Keifer's POV
Morning came slower than usual.
I woke up expecting to feel Jay's warmth beside me, her breathing steady, her fingers curled into my shirt like always. Instead, the space next to me felt empty.
I sat up instantly.
Jay was sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapped in the blanket, her back slightly hunched. She looked small like that—strong as always, but tired in a way that worried me.
"Jay?" I said gently. "What's wrong?"
She turned her head toward me, eyes soft but strained. For a second she didn't say anything, like she was deciding whether to speak or not.
"I got my periods," she finally said. "And… it hurts more than usual."
Something in my chest tightened.
I was out of bed in a second. "Why didn't you wake me?"
She gave a weak smile. "You barely slept. I didn't want to add more to your stress."
I crouched in front of her, holding her hands carefully. They were cold.
"Jay," I said firmly but softly, "you are not 'more stress.' You're my priority."
She looked away, blinking fast.
I helped her lie back down and tucked the blanket around her properly, like I was afraid even air might hurt her.
"Stay here," I told her. "Don't move. I've got you."
I went to the kitchen, made warm water, asked the maid quietly for a heating pad and some light food. I didn't care that I was a Watson or that danger was circling us—right now, my world was one person in pain.
When I came back, she was curled up, breathing shallowly.
I placed the warm pad on her stomach and sat beside her, rubbing her arm slowly.
"Better?" I asked.
She nodded slightly. "Yeah… a little."
I brushed her hair back. "You're not doing anything today. No packing. No worrying. Nothing."
She smiled faintly. "You sound like a doctor."
"No," I said. "I sound like someone who refuses to let you suffer alone."
She closed her eyes, her grip tightening around my fingers.
Jay's POV
My body felt heavy, like every bone ached at once.
But what hurt the most wasn't the pain—it was the guilt.
Keifer already had so much on his shoulders. Dan Kaizer. His brothers. The unit. The danger. And now me.
I hadn't planned to tell him so soon, but he noticed everything. He always did.
When he sat beside me, his presence alone made me feel safer. The way he looked at me—not annoyed, not distant—just concerned.
"You don't have to hover," I said quietly.
He looked at me like I'd said something ridiculous. "I want to."
That simple sentence hit harder than any painkiller.
I watched him text Erdix, his tone short and serious. Then he went to check on Keigan and Kieran.
When Keigan found out I wasn't feeling well, he immediately said,
"Ate needs soup. I'll make it."
My eyes burned.
I wasn't their mom. I wasn't even officially family. But they treated me like I already belonged.
When Keifer came back, I whispered, "You don't have to cancel everything because of me."
He leaned closer. "I'm not canceling. I'm choosing."
I swallowed hard. "Keifer…"
He rested his forehead against mine. "You take care of everyone else all the time. Let me take care of you today."
That was it.
Tears slipped out quietly, not dramatic, just tired and emotional. He didn't panic. He didn't ask too many questions. He just pulled me gently into his arms and let me cry.
Keifer's POV
She cried silently, like she didn't want to disturb the world.
I held her carefully, like she was something precious and fragile—not weak, just human.
"You don't always have to be strong," I told her. "Especially with me."
She nodded against my chest.
Later, Keigan brought soup. Kieran stood awkwardly at the door, holding a glass of warm water like it was a treasure.
"Ate," Kieran said softly, "Kuya said warm things help."
Jay smiled at them, and I swear something healed inside all of us at that moment.
The danger outside didn't disappear. Dan Kaizer was still out there. The threat was real.
But inside that room, with Jay resting, my brothers nearby, and the door locked—
This was my reason to fight.
Jay's POV
As the day passed, the pain slowly eased.
Keifer never left my side. Not once.
When I finally fell asleep again, my last thought wasn't fear or worry.
It was this:
No matter how dark things get, I'm not alone anymore.
And that made all the difference.