One evening, the house was quiet. Too quiet.
Keifer sat on the edge of the couch, shoulders heavy, eyes unfocused.
Jay watched him, silent, knowing that look. The one he wore when his chest was too full to breathe properly.
Finally… he spoke.
"I… I can't do it anymore," he admitted, voice low, almost breaking.
Jay's heart tightened. She stayed still, letting him gather himself.
"I can't move on from you," he said again, clearer this time, as if saying it once wasn't enough to make it real.
Jay's hands twitched. She wanted to reach for him, to comfort him—but she didn't.
He looked at her, eyes raw, unguarded. "No matter what I do… no matter who I'm with… I keep coming back to you."
The words hung in the air. Heavy. True.
Jay's throat was tight. She swallowed. "Keifer… you—"
"I'm not asking for anything," he interrupted, voice trembling. "I can't… I can't take you now. Not properly. Not fully. But I had to tell you. Because… because pretending I'm over you… it's killing me."
Jay stepped closer. Slowly. Carefully. Her fingers brushed his arm.
"I know," she whispered. "I've always known."
Keifer's breath hitched. He wanted to pull her in. Hold her. Confess all the nights he had spent thinking about her, all the moments he had made excuses to be near her.
"I chose wrong," he admitted softly. "I chose… what I was supposed to choose. And it was the worst mistake I've ever made."
Jay's eyes shimmered. "You don't get to choose what your heart wants, Keifer. You never did."
He looked at her then. Really looked.
Like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
"I don't care about anyone else," he said, almost a growl, almost desperate. "Not my family. Not… anyone. It's always been you."
And in that moment, Jay knew something had shifted.
Not a promise. Not a claim. Not even a plan.
Just truth.
And for Keifer, that was enough… for now.
Because admitting it… finally… made the weight of pretending a little lighter.