few days later, the mansion felt restless.
Jay was halfway down the stairs when her mother called out, "Keifer, take Jay to college today."
Jay stopped.
Keifer looked up from where he was checking his phone. He didn't argue. Didn't tease. Just nodded once.
"Okay."
The drive was quiet.
Not the sharp, irritated silence they used to share—but something thinner, careful. Jay sat curled against the window, fingers twisted together in her lap. Keifer drove with both hands on the wheel, eyes forward, steady.
He noticed things without meaning to.
The way she flinched when a bike passed too close.
The way she kept checking the mirrors.
The way her breath never quite slowed.
He didn't ask.
The college gates came into view, already crowded with students. Laughter. Voices. Movement everywhere.
Jay lifted her head—then froze.
Cyrus stood near the entrance.
Talking to someone. Smiling. Hands in his pockets like he belonged there. Like the world had never once told him no.
He hadn't seen her yet.
Jay's body reacted before her mind caught up.
Her fingers went numb. Her chest tightened. Her vision tunneled, every sound dulling except the rush of blood in her ears. She shrank back into the seat, like if she stayed small enough, she might disappear.
Keifer felt it.
The sudden stillness.
The way the air in the car changed.
He followed her gaze.
Saw Cyrus.
Then he looked back at Jay.
Her hands were shaking.
Not violently. Just enough.
Keifer parked—but didn't unlock the doors.
Jay swallowed hard. "Keifer?"
"Yeah."
Her voice came out thinner than she wanted. "Can I… can I stay with you today?"
He turned fully toward her.
Didn't ask why.
Didn't look toward Cyrus again.
"Okay," he said immediately.
The word landed like a hand pressed gently against her spine—steadying.
"Really?" she asked, almost afraid to believe it.
"Yeah," he repeated. "You can stay."
Her shoulders sagged slightly, like something heavy had finally been set down. She nodded, unable to speak.
Keifer pulled the car back into motion, circling the campus instead of stopping. Cyrus remained behind, unaware—still laughing, still untouched by the moment he'd nearly shattered.
Jay watched him fade from view.
Only then did she breathe.
They drove to a quieter side of campus, a place shaded by old trees. Keifer parked there this time.
"You want to sit here," he said, "or come with me inside?"
"With you," she said instantly—then hesitated. "If that's okay."
"It's okay."
They walked side by side through the building Keifer usually kept to himself. Jay stayed close—not clinging, not touching—but close enough that she could feel his presence beside her, constant and real.
Keifer noticed how she scanned rooms before entering.
How she chose seats near walls.
How her gaze flicked back to doors again and again.
And he noticed something else too.
Every time she realized he was still there, her breathing eased.
He didn't comment on it.
He didn't say Cyrus' name.
But he understood something without needing the full story:
Jay wasn't afraid of the college.
She was afraid of being found.
They sat in a lecture hall together, Jay tucked into the seat beside him. She didn't take notes. She barely looked at the board.
Keifer leaned back slightly, not invading her space—just close enough.
When someone walked past their row, Jay tensed.
Keifer shifted, just a fraction, blocking her line of sight to the aisle.
It was subtle.
But Jay noticed.
Her fingers unclenched.
At lunch, she didn't eat much. Keifer slid his water bottle toward her without comment. She drank from it like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Later, as they walked back to the car, Jay finally spoke.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.
"For what?"
"For… asking you to stay. For being like this."
He stopped walking.
She stopped too, heart jumping.
"Don't apologize," Keifer said, firm but calm. "You didn't do anything wrong."
She looked at him then—really looked.
"You didn't even ask why."
"I didn't need to," he replied.
That did something to her.
Not dramatic. Not explosive.
Just a small, aching crack inside her chest.
When they reached the car, Jay hesitated before opening the door.
"Keifer?"
"Yeah."
"Thank you."
He nodded once. "Anytime."
As they drove back home, Jay rested her head against the window, eyes finally closing.
For the first time since seeing Cyrus, her body wasn't braced for impact.
Keifer kept driving, eyes on the road, hands steady.
And though he didn't say it out loud, one thing was clear to him now—
Jay didn't need saving.
She needed someone who didn't leave when she was afraid.
And today, that was him.