Keifer's POV
The next three days were a masterclass in psychological warfare, masterminded entirely by a naked girl wrapped in a heavy white duvet.
Ever since the shampoo incident, Jay Jay had officially declared the circular bed her sovereign territory and the duvet her imperial armor. She refused to wear clothes, citing that the island heat was "oppressive to her skin chemistry," which essentially meant she had a bulletproof excuse never to leave the mattress. She hadn't put on a single piece of clothing since we arrived at the villa.
Because of this, she made a very strict deal with me. If I tried to sit next to her, she would immediately set a silent mental timer. The exact second my hand rested on her waist or my fingers brushed her shoulder for longer than thirty seconds, she would swat me away like an annoying horsefly.
"Time's up, Keifer. The borders are closed," she would announce with terrifying gravity.
You can't touch me more than thirty seconds.
Whenever I tried to bring up what happened before we arrived at the villa—whenever I tried to properly beg for her forgiveness for the mess I had made of us—she would flawlessly redirect the topic. She would suddenly demand a glass of ice water with exactly three lemon slices, or claim she heard a rare bird on the balcony that I needed to go identify.
She was still deeply upset with me. I knew it, she knew it, and honestly, I deserved every bit of the cold shoulder. I had broken her trust, and rebuilding it meant playing by her chaotic rules. So, I did my best. I cooked, I served, and I accepted the thirty-second touch limit like a man starving for crumbs.
Until this afternoon, when she decided she absolutely needed to take a bath.
I was downstairs in the kitchen chopping fresh mangoes when I heard the first thump. Then a sharp gasp. Then a string of very colorful, highly unregal curses echoing down the stairwell.
I dropped the knife and practically took the stairs three at a time, my heart slamming against my ribs. I burst into the master bedroom, expecting a medical emergency.
Instead, I found Jay Jay stranded exactly halfway between the circular bed and the bathroom door. She was trapped inside her signature white cocoon, the heavy fabric bunched clumsily around her knees. Her left foot was lifted off the ground, her toes curling inward, and her face was twisted into a scowl of pure agony.
"Jay! What happened?" I rushed toward her, instantly reaching out to scoop her up.
"Don't touch me!" she shrieked, waddling backward like an angry penguin and clutching the duvet tightly to her chest. "Do not violate my personal airspace! I am managing the situation!"
"You're hobbling," I said, dropping my hands but staying close enough to catch her if she toppled. "Did you twist your ankle?"
"No! My muscles are staging a strike!" she huffed, her lower lip extending into a furious pout. She glared down at her own legs as if they had personally betrayed her. "My thighs feel like they're full of hot cement. Every step is like walking on broken glass and Lego bricks, Keifer!"
I blinked, processing her words, and then the realization hit me. I let out a soft, helpless breath. "Jay... your legs hurt because you haven't walked more than ten feet in these days. You've been living like a beautiful, stationary mollusk. Lactic acid is building up."
"Do not use science to minimize my suffering!" she yelled, her eyes flashing with indignant fire. She shifted her weight to her other foot, winced dramatically, and nearly lost her balance. "This is a direct result of your negligence! You broke your holy vow!"
"My vow?" I asked, completely bewildered.
"Yes! The sacred treaty of the villa!" She pointed a trembling, accusatory finger at my face from beneath the folds of the blanket.
"When we got here, you explicitly stated, and I quote, 'I will carry you wherever you need to go so your royal feet never have to touch the tile.' Those were your words, Keifer! And where were you just now? Downstairs! Ignoring me! Forcing me to embark on a perilous trek to the bathroom all by myself!"
"Jay, you told me thirty minutes ago that if I breathed in your direction you'd throw your slipper at my head," I countered, a twitch of amusement tugging at my jaw.
"That was then! This is now!" she argued loudly, her voice echoing off the high ceiling. "A good subject anticipates when the queen needs to take a bath! I shouldn't have to draft a formal request for transportation! Now look at me. I am paralyzed in No Man's Land. I have to walk 10 long steps just to get to the tub, my skin is entirely naked under here, and my lower limbs have ceased to function."
"Alright, alright," I chuckled, stepping forward to finally end her misery. "I'm sorry for breaching the contract. Let me carry you."
"No!" she snapped, suddenly turning her face away and sniffing dramatically. "The moment has passed. The insult is logged in the royal ledger. I will walk these 10 long steps myself, even if my legs fall off and roll out into the ocean."
She took one agonizingly slow, stiff-legged step forward, letting out a pathetic little "ow" with every millimeter of progress. She looked so ridiculously stubborn, wrapped up like a giant burrito, refusing my help out of sheer pride.
"Jay Jay," I said softly, my voice dropping the playful edge. I stepped right into her path, blocking her route to the bathroom. I looked down at her, letting her see the genuine, heavy remorse I kept locked away behind my smiles.
"I really am trying. I'm sorry I wasn't right here when you needed me. For everything."
She froze. Her dark eyes met mine, and for a split second, the bratty, dramatic facade dropped. A flicker of real, vulnerable hurt crossed her face—the remnant of the past two months that we still hadn't fully talked about. My chest tightened. I wanted so badly to wrap my arms around her and never let go.
But true to form, the second the moment got too heavy, Jay Jay blinked and aggressively cleared her throat to divert the topic.
"Apology rejected on the grounds of insufficient flattery," she announced, her voice bouncing right back to its loud, commanding register. She lifted her chin haughtily.
"Furthermore, you are currently blocking the trade route to the tub. Move aside, kwanan."
I stared at her for a beat, a slow smile spreading across my face. I loved her. God, I loved her so much it felt like a physical ache in my chest.
"I don't think I will," I murmured.
Before she could protest or start her thirty-second countdown, I bent down and slid one arm behind her knees and the other around her lower back. I hoisted her up effortlessly. She let out a loud, undignified squawk as the duvet bunched up, her naked feet dangling in the air.
"Keifer! Unhand me! This is a kidnapping!" she yelled, though her hands instinctively clamped around my neck to keep herself steady.
"It's emergency transport," I corrected, carrying her the remaining distance into the bathroom and gently setting her down on the plush rug by the tub, making sure her precious duvet remained securely wrapped around her.
She glared up at me, her cheeks flushed, her breath coming a little fast from the sudden movement. She pointed to the door. "Out. You have five seconds before I declare a state of war."
"I'm going," I laughed, raising my hands in surrender as I backed out of the room. "Let me know when the royal carriage is required for the return trip."
"Do not speak to me!" she yelled as the door swung shut.
I stood in the bedroom, staring at the closed wood panel, my heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. She was still mad, and I still had a long way to go to fix what I had broken—but as long as she was yelling at me, I knew we were going to be just fine.