Keifer's POV
She's drinking like she's trying to forget how to breathe.
That's the first thing I notice.
Not the glass. Not the alcohol. The rhythm.
Too fast. Too desperate. Like if she pauses, everything will catch up to her.
I move before thinking.
"Jay," I say quietly, placing my hand over the rim of her glass.
She looks at me like she doesn't recognize the sound of my voice—but her eyes betray her. They always do.
"Don't," she says, slurring just enough to hurt. "Tonight's not for you."
"It's not for this either," I reply, gently sliding the glass away. "You'll regret it."
She laughs—broken, hollow. "I regret a lot of things, Keifer."
That one lands.
I don't argue. I don't push. I simply hold her wrist when she sways, grounding her before she can fall.
"Come with me," I murmur. "Just air. Five minutes."
She scoffs. "You always wanted five minutes."
"I wanted a lifetime," I say.
That shuts her up.
I guide her out before she can change her mind—past whispers, past eyes full of fear and curiosity. Outside, the night is cool, merciful.
She leans against the wall, breath uneven.
And then—
She breaks.
"I loved you," she says suddenly, voice cracking open. "I loved you when I had nothing. When I was still trying to survive."
I freeze.
"You disappeared," she continues, words tumbling now. "One week after graduation. No calls. No explanations. Just—nothing. Like I meant nothing."
"I was trying to keep you alive," I whisper.
She laughs again—angrier this time. "Alive? You killed me, Keifer."
My chest caves in.
"There was a gun," I say, voice shaking despite myself. "Pointed at you. I saw it. I heard your name come out of mouths that don't forgive."
Her head snaps up. "What?"
"My father," I say. "Kaizer. He knew. About us. About you. About how much power you'd have someday."
I swallow. "He told me if I didn't end it—end us—you wouldn't make it to twenty."
Silence crashes between us.
"I chose your hatred," I continue, tears burning now, "over your funeral."
She stares at me, eyes glassy. "You should have told me."
"I know," I say. "And I hate myself every day for not trusting you with the truth."
Her knees buckle.
I catch her.
She sobs into my chest like she's been holding it in for years. I don't stop her. I hold her like that—one hand in her hair, one at her back—like she's fragile and infinite at the same time.
"I was so lonely," she whispers. "Even as a Queen."
"I see you," I say. "Always."
She shouldn't be this close to breaking me.
Jay stumbles, the city lights blurring behind her, and when I steady her—when my hands close around her arms—it's like touching a wound that never healed.
"Don't look at me like that," she whispers.
"Like what?"
"Like you never stopped loving me."
I let out a breath that sounds like surrender."I didn't."
Her laugh is soft, shattered. "Liar."
I tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my eyes. "I loved you in silence. I loved you in exile. I loved you while watching you become something the world feared."
Her lips part.
"And it destroyed me," I add.
She doesn't pull away.
Instead, she steps closer.
"Why didn't you fight harder?" she asks. "Why did you let me believe I was nothing to you?"
"Because if you hated me," I say hoarsely, "you wouldn't come looking for me. And if you didn't come looking—he couldn't use you against me."
Her breath trembles against my mouth.
"You don't get to decide my pain," she says.
"I know," I whisper. "But I chose it anyway."
That's when she breaks—not crying, not screaming—just cracking. Years of restraint sliding off her like armor.
"You ruined me," she says, gripping my coat. "And I loved you through it."
I kiss her.
The first kiss is hesitant—like memory testing reality. Soft. Questioning.She exhales into it, and my chest tightens.
"You're real," she murmurs.
I kiss her again.
The second kiss is deeper, slower—years of restraint pressing forward.Her hands clutch my shirt like she's afraid I'll vanish.
"I dreamed of this," she admits. "Hated myself for it."
I brush my forehead to hers. "I dreamed of not deserving you."
She laughs weakly, then looks up at me with that fire—the one that crowned her Queen.
"You still don't."
I kiss her a third time.
The third kiss is desperate—teeth, breath, urgency.Not hunger for flesh—hunger for belonging. For proof.
She pulls back, eyes blazing. "Don't kiss me like you're leaving."
"I'm not," I say, voice rough. "Not ever again."
She cups my face, thumbs brushing my scars.
"Then stay."
She kisses me.
The fourth kiss is hers—claiming, fierce, angry with love.It tastes like grief and power and survival.
When she pulls away, she's shaking.
"I waited," she says. "I waited for you to come back. Every damn night."
"I was watching," I whisper. "Every victory. Every loss. Every time you smiled like you didn't feel anything."
Tears spill now—hers and mine.
I pull her into my chest. She sobs once, sharp and broken, then stills.
"Don't leave me again," she whispers.
"Never," I swear.
I kiss her temple.
The fifth kiss is reverent—slow, protective, like a vow.
She cries like she's been holding it in for years.
Not loud. Not dramatic. Just quiet, broken breaths against my chest, like her body finally remembers it's allowed to fall apart.
"I hated you," Jay whispers, fingers gripping my shirt."I know," I say softly.
"I loved you," she adds, voice cracking."I know that too."
Her forehead presses into my collarbone. I wrap my arms around her fully now, no space left for doubt. She fits like she always did—like she was carved into my memory and never left.
"I thought you chose power over me," she says."I chose you," I answer immediately. "In the worst way possible."
She pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes red, shining."Promise me something," she says.
"Anything."
"No more disappearing. No more silence. No more pretending we're strangers."
I nod, my throat tight."I promise. I swear it on everything I am."
She exhales, like that vow finally lets her breathe.
Her knees buckle a little then—exhaustion winning. I catch her before she can fall.
"Hey," I murmur, brushing her hair back. "I've got you."
She doesn't argue. Just lets herself sink into me.
She sinks into me, exhaustion finally winning. In the car, her head rests on my lap, fingers still fisted in my coat like she doesn't trust sleep.
I carry her inside the car. She stirs slightly as I lay her head on my lap caressing her, eyes half-open.
"You're warm," she murmurs.
"Sleep," I say softly. "I'm here."
She reaches for me. I hold her, careful, close but not crossing the line she doesn't ask me to cross.
She turns, pressing her forehead to my chest.
"Keifer?"
"Yes, love."
She tilts her head up, barely awake—and kisses me once more.
The sixth kiss is slow, tender, unfinished.A promise, not a demand.
"I'm not done loving you," she whispers.
"Neither am I," I reply.
She falls asleep with my arm around her, breathing steady, finally safe.
And for the first time in years—
So am I.
She falls asleep against me soon after—tears dried, breathing slow. Her head rests on my lap as I settle her into the car.
I dial Percy with my free hand.
He picks up on the second ring."Where the hell is Jay?"
"She's with me," I say calmly. "She's safe."
A pause. Then a sigh."Of course she is," Percy mutters. "Is she okay?"
I glance down at her—how peaceful she finally looks."She will be."
Another pause. Then, softer, "Take care of her, Keifer."
"I always have," I reply.
He doesn't argue. He just hangs up.
Jay shifts slightly, curling closer, her hand finding mine like it's instinct.
The car ride is quiet.
Jay lies across the back seat, her head resting on my lap, eyes closed but not fully asleep. Every bump in the road makes her frown slightly, and without thinking, I run my fingers through her hair until she relaxes again.
She hums softly."You're still doing that," she murmurs.
"Doing what?"
"Calming me down without asking permission."
I smile despite myself. "Some habits refuse to die."
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At the mansion, I carry her inside.
She stirs as I lift her, arms instinctively wrapping around my neck."Don't drop me," she murmurs.
"Never," I say quietly.
In my room, I lay her down gently. She reaches for me immediately, eyes half-open.
"Stay," she says, not asking.
I lie beside her, pulling the blanket over us both. She turns on her side, pressing her face into my chest, one leg draping over mine like she's afraid I'll disappear if she lets go.
"You feel real," she whispers.
"So do you."
Her fingers trace slow, lazy circles on my arm."I don't want nightmares tonight."
"You won't have any," I promise. "I won't let them touch you."
She yawns, then looks up at me again, suddenly shy."Keifer?"
"Yes, love."
"Thank you… for coming back."
I press a gentle kiss to her forehead, then her hair."I never truly left."
She smiles—small, tired, real—and finally lets her eyes close.
Within minutes, her breathing evens out, warm and steady against me. I hold her like something sacred, adjusting the blanket when she shivers, tucking her closer when she sighs in her sleep.
She murmurs my name once.
I answer, even though she's already dreaming.
And for the first time in years, I don't feel like I'm surviving.
I feel like I'm home.