Keifer's POV
When the bathroom door finally clicked open an hour later, I was waiting right beside the frame, ready to fulfill my duties as the royal carriage.
Jay Jay emerged like a very angry, very fresh-scented cloud. She had swapped her damp bathroom towel back for her ultimate fortress: the massive, heavy white duvet. She was bundled so tightly that only her flushed face, her damp dark hair, and her two perfectly bare shoulders were visible. Her bottom lip was tucked into her signature pout, her eyes shooting daggers at me.
Without giving her a chance to launch another verbal missile, I swept her up into my arms. She let out a predictable, sharp huff but didn't fight me. Her legs were clearly still killing her from standing in the tub. I carried her across the room and laid her gently back into the center of the massive circular bed.
She immediately fell back into the pillows with a dramatic, breathless groan, letting her sore legs stretch out beneath the safety of the blanket.
"My lower half is completely dead," she announced to the ceiling, her voice dripping with world-ending tragedy. "If a fire breaks out in this villa, Keifer, you are legally obligated to throw me over your shoulder like a sack of premium potatoes. Do you understand?"
"Understood," I chuckled, sitting down on the very edge of the mattress beside her hip. I reached out, my palm gently resting against the curve of her covered waist, feeling the comforting warmth of her body heat radiating through the thick fabric.
Jay Jay's eyes snapped toward me. She didn't move away, but her gaze dropped significantly to my wrist, where my watch sat. "The clock is ticking, kwanan."
I looked down at her, taking a slow breath. The playful bickering was fun, but I was starving for her. I wanted to just hold her against my chest without a timer counting down in her head. I wanted to run my fingers through her damp hair, press my lips to her forehead, and let her know how deeply sorry I still was for the pain I had caused her.
"Jay," I murmured, my voice softening as I leaned a fraction closer. "Let's change the rules. Let me hold you. At least for 1 minute."
"No," she snapped instantly, her chin lifting defiantly against the pillows.
"Come on," I pleaded, giving her waist a tiny, gentle squeeze. "Sixty seconds is nothing. You can't even microwave a decent snack in sixty seconds. Just 1 minute."
"Absolutely not," she declared, her tone completely unyielding. "One minute is a slippery slope. First, it's a minute, then it's five minutes, and before I know it, you're suffocating me with your giant limbs like an oversized golden retriever."
I let out a helpless laugh, shaking my head. "Fine. Let's negotiate. How about 50 seconds?"
"No," she said, her eyes narrowing into a sharp, stubborn glare.
"Jay Jay, please. Be reasonable," I teased, trying to coax that adorable smile out of her, though she was fighting it hard. "Look at me. I am practically begging. At least make it 40."
"No!" she yelled, a wicked, triumphant spark suddenly lighting up her dark eyes. She sat up slightly, clutching the duvet tighter to her chest as she delivered her final verdict. "Because you are being greedy and challenging my royal authority, your privileges are officially revoked. From now on, you will touch me just for 20 seconds!"
I blinked, completely stunned by her reverse logic. "Twenty seconds? Jay, that's barely enough time to say hello!"
"Then you better say hello very quickly!" she countered loudly, her nonsense talk reaching peak levels. "And stop looking at me with those sad, puppy-dog eyes! It won't work. The decree has been signed. Twenty seconds is the maximum capacity for a criminal of your caliber."
"A criminal?" I gasped, clutching my chest in mock offense. "I literally just carried you across No Man's Land so your sore legs wouldn't have to endure the agony of the floorboards. I am an international hero."
"An international hero who let soap get in my cornea!" she threw back, her voice echoing through the bedroom as she pointed an accusatory chin at me. "My left eye is still recovering from the trauma, Keifer. Your sentence has been passed. Twenty seconds. Starting... now!"
I looked down at my watch, then back at her stubborn, beautiful face. If I only had twenty seconds, I wasn't going to waste a single tick of the clock.
I leaned over her, shifting my weight onto my hands on either side of her shoulders, effectively trapping her against the pillows. Her breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly as my shadow fell over her.
"Ten seconds," she whispered, her voice losing a bit of its bravado as I hovered inches away.
"I love you, Jay Jay," I murmured softly, my eyes locking onto hers. I reached up, using the tips of my fingers to gently tuck a stray, damp lock of hair behind her ear, my thumb brushing the soft skin of her cheekbone. "I'm going to keep trying. Every single day."
"Fifteen seconds," she stammered, her cheeks instantly flushing a deep, radiant pink. She tried to maintain her fierce pout, but her lower lip trembled just a little. She bit down on it, her eyes darting away from mine because she knew she was losing the battle against her own feelings.
"And twenty," I whispered against her cheek, pressing a slow, lingering kiss right below her ear before I reluctantly pulled my hands back and sat upright, completely breaking contact.
"Time's up. See? I respect the law."
Jay Jay sat frozen in her bundle of blankets, her chest heaving slightly as she stared at me. For a few seconds, the room fell completely silent, the heavy air of our unresolved past briefly settling over us. She looked so small sitting there, still protecting herself with her tantrums and her rules, and my heart ached with the burning desire to just tear down the walls between us.
But then, right on cue, she aggressively cleared her throat and pointed a shaky finger toward the glass balcony doors.
"The... the sunlight is shifting," she mumbled loudly, frantically diverting the topic away from the tension. "And because you wasted your twenty seconds on emotional manipulation, you now owe me a fresh bowl of those mangoes you were chopping. Go. Shoo. Before I banish you to the living room couch."
I let out a rich, breathless chuckle, standing up from the bed and smoothing down my shirt. "Going, your majesty. Mangoes are on the way."
As I walked out of the bedroom, I could hear her shifting under the heavy sheets behind me, grumbling nonsense about my twenty-second limit. I smiled to myself. She was stubborn, she was furious, and she was keeping me at arm's length—but she hadn't kicked me out of the room completely. And for now, that was more than enough.
Jay Jay's POV
Twenty seconds is nothing.
It is a completely useless, insignificant blink of time. I sat huddled in the center of the massive circular bed, the heavy white duvet gripped tightly in my fists, staring furiously at the empty doorway where Keifer had just disappeared. Twenty seconds wasn't even enough time to properly breathe in his scent. It wasn't enough time for the warmth of his large, comforting hands to fully seep through this stupid blanket and chase away the deep, biting winter chill that rattled the villa's glass windowpanes.
My lips tingled where his skin had briefly brushed mine. A stupid, weak part of my chest ached, practically begging me to scream his name and demand he come back to reset the clock.
But then the bitter, freezing air of reality slapped me across the face.
Forty-five seconds.
That was the exact number I couldn't erase from my brain. I closed my eyes, and my mind instantly dragged me back to that horrific day weeks ago. The day he lost his memory. I remembered standing in front of him, my heart laid entirely bare, and for forty-five agonizing, endless seconds, Keifer had looked at me with absolute, unadulterated hatred. His eyes had been so cold, so entirely void of the love he usually showered me with, that it had felt like a physical blade ripping through my ribs. Forty-five seconds of pure malice from the only man who was supposed to protect me.
If he could look at me like that for forty-five seconds, then he only deserved twenty seconds of my softness.
Underneath the thick duvet, my skin was entirely bare. I hadn't put on a single scrap of clothing since we arrived at this winter island. The biting cold outside matched the heavy, crushing guilt sitting in the pit of my stomach. This wasn't just a tantrum. It was a punishment.
I was punishing myself in secret. Every time I looked at his exhausted, fiercely devoted face, I remembered how much my own mistakes and past actions had made him suffer before we got here. I didn't deserve to feel fully comfortable or safe yet. So, I stayed naked beneath the linen, letting the chill remind me of the mess we were trying to fix, keeping him at arm's length because I didn't know how to tell him that my heart was still terrified of breaking again.
A heavy, grounding scent of sizzling garlic and butter drifted into the bedroom, snapping me out of my dark thoughts.
I carefully bundled the massive duvet around my torso like a shield and stood up. My thighs screamed in agony, the muscles tight and burning as I forced myself to walk out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
In the open-concept living area, the villa's fireplace was crackling loudly, throwing long shadows across the room. Keifer was standing at the kitchen island, his back to me as he expertly tossed a pan of steaming pasta.
He looked devastatingly handsome, his broad shoulders filling out his dark sweater, completely focused on making me dinner.
Avoiding the kitchen entirely, I waddled over to the large living room sofa and aggressively threw myself onto the plush cushions. I tucked my bare feet securely beneath the duvet, staring at him with a heavy pout.
"The royal stomach is growling, Keifer," I announced loudly, my voice bouncing off the high ceiling. "The mangoes were just a teaser. Where is the main event?"
Keifer turned around, a soft, instant smile breaking across his face the moment he saw me. He set the pan down and walked around the island, carrying a plate of freshly cut mangoes I had demanded earlier. But as he got closer, his eyes dropped to the bare skin of my shoulders and the fact that I was still completely clutching a blanket instead of wearing clothes in the dead of winter.
His smile faltered, replaced by a deep, worried frown. "Jay, please. It's freezing outside. Wear something. Just put on a sweater."
"Do not order me around, kwanan, or I will completely finish your twenty seconds for the entire day!" I yelled back, lifting my chin defiantly.
Keifer stopped in his tracks, letting out a helpless, breathless laugh as he set the plate on the coffee table. He sat on the opposite end of the sofa, strictly keeping his distance to respect the boundaries.
"Jay, let's be very clear about the rules of engagement here," he murmured, his dark eyes dancing with a mix of amusement and exhaustion. "The twenty-second deal is only for my personal touching. My own selfish privileges. It does not include me scooping you up when your legs hurt, washing your hair in the tub, carrying you across the room, or feeding you. You gave me permission to touch you for exactly twenty seconds, two times a day. That's it."
"Yes! And you used your first twenty seconds upstairs to emotionally manipulate me with a kiss!" I countered loudly, pointing an accusatory finger from beneath the duvet. "You have one twenty-second slot left, Keifer. If you keep nagging me about clothes, I will confiscate it as a tax!"
"Fine, my remaining twenty seconds are finished. Take them," he said softly, his voice dropping into that intensely serious, protective register that always made my heart flutter. He leaned forward, his gaze locking onto mine with absolute sincerity. "I don't care about the timer right now, Jay Jay. Please. Just wear something. It's winter. You're going to catch a cold."
"No!" I snapped, pulling the heavy white fabric tighter around my neck until I looked like a stubborn snowman. "The duvet is a superior garment. It has superior insulation. Clothes are an illusion created by the bourgeoisie."
Keifer stared at me for a long beat, clearly realizing that my nonsense talk was just a fortress to keep him from pushing further. He let out a slow, heavy sigh, the familiar remorse washing over his features. He knew I was diverting the topic. He knew I was still deeply upset and protecting myself, and I could see the painful guilt in his eyes—the silent admission that he believed he deserved this torture.
"Alright," he whispered gently, standing up from the sofa. "I won't force you. But I'm turning the villa's heater up."
He walked back to the kitchen to plate the food, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I looked down at my tightly wrapped hands, a heavy lump forming in my throat. I hated making him sad. I hated the shadow of pain that crossed his face when I pushed him away. But as I watched his tall figure move under the warm kitchen lights, I squeezed the duvet tighter, silently praying that twenty seconds at a time would be enough to heal us both.
The rich, savory aroma of the hot garlic and butter pasta filled the living room as Keifer walked over from the kitchen island. He carried a perfectly presented plate in one hand and a fresh glass of water in the other. He carefully set the food down on the coffee table right in front of me, making sure it was close enough so I wouldn't have to strain my sore leg muscles.
Instead of sitting back down on the far end of the sofa, he knelt on the plush rug right by my knees. He kept a respectful distance, his large hands resting on his own thighs, totally mindful of the strict boundaries I had set.
"Your dinner is served, my queen," Keifer said softly, his dark eyes searching my face with that deep, unwavering devotion that always made my chest ache. "Careful, it's hot."
"It better be delicious, Keifer," I mumbled, peeking out from my heavy white duvet fortress. I cautiously slid one bare arm out of the blanket cocoon, grabbing the fork and twirling a massive web of pasta. "If the noodles are mushy, I am going to dock your pay. And by pay, I mean your final twenty-second slot."
"The pasta is perfectly al dente, I promise," he chuckled, a helpless, tender smile breaking across his handsome face. He watched me take a huge bite, his shoulders visibly relaxing when a soft, involuntary hum of satisfaction escaped my lips. "Good?"
"Acceptable," I lied loudly, even though it was literally the best thing I had ever tasted. I chewed aggressively, pointing the fork at him. "You may live to see another day."
We ate in a comfortable, quiet rhythm. The crackling sounds from the fireplace filled the silence, throwing a warm, golden glow over the freezing winter room. Every time the chilly wind rattled the large glass windows, I shrank a little deeper into my duvet, burying my chin in the plush fabric. I kept my eyes fixed on my plate, deliberately avoiding his gaze.
In my head, those forty-five seconds of his past hatred still played on a loop, a cold reminder of why I had to keep my guard up. I could feel him watching me, his eyes heavy with the silent apologies he kept trying to give me, but I just kept eating, using the food to flawlessly divert the topic before things could get too emotional.
By the time the fire had burned down to glowing red embers, the clock on the wall neared midnight. The day was officially ending.
I was lying down flat on the sofa now, completely buried under the massive white mound of the duvet, my eyes heavy with sleep. My bare feet were tucked tightly away from the winter air, and my sore legs finally felt numb.
Keifer stood up from the armchair where he had been quietly reading, walking over to stand right beside the sofa. He looked down at me, his dark sweater making his broad frame look even more imposing in the dim firelight.
"The day is almost over, Jay Jay," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, incredibly rich baritone that vibrated right through my blanket. "I believe I still have one twenty-second slot left in the royal ledger."
I blinked up at him through the darkness, my heart doing a sudden, violent flip against my ribs. I pulled the duvet up to my nose, my voice sounding small and muffled. "You... you want to use it now? It's late. You should just go to sleep."
"I'm not wasting my currency," Keifer whispered, a dangerously playful smirk tugging at his lips.
He didn't wait. He leaned over the sofa, his large shadow completely engulfing me.
Instead of reaching for my face or my shoulders, his massive, incredibly warm hands slid directly beneath the bottom edge of the duvet. He found my bare, freezing ankles, his long fingers wrapping securely around them.
I let out a sharp, high-pitched gasp. "Keifer! Cold! My feet are cold!"
"I know," he muttered, his thumbs immediately starting to rub slow, firm, heavy circles against my sore, aching soles.
The heat from his palms was instantaneous, bursting through the freezing chill of my skin like a localized wildfire. The intense, deep pressure of his hands completely melted the stubborn tension in my cramped calf muscles.
A long, helpless sigh rushed out of my mouth, my eyes fluttering shut against my will. It felt too good. It felt so incredibly safe.
"Three seconds," I stammered weakly, trying to force the anger back into my voice, but failing miserably. "Four seconds..."
"Shh. Just let me warm you up," Keifer whispered.
He didn't listen to my counting. He kept his eyes locked onto my face, his hands moving with a slow, rhythmic, agonizingly perfect pressure. While his thumbs continued to work out the tight knots on my soles, he suddenly leaned lower. His warm lips pressed a soft, lingering kiss directly onto the sensitive skin of my left ankle, followed immediately by another gentle kiss on my right ankle.
The warmth of his breath against my bare skin sent a wild, electric shiver straight up my spine, making my breath hitch sharply in my throat. It was incredibly intimate, a silent, reverent gesture that proved he treasured even the coldest, sorest parts of me.
"Fifteen seconds," I whispered, my chest squeezing with that familiar, heavy guilt. I looked at the fierce, exhausted dedication in his eyes as he looked up from my ankles, and a tear nearly slipped out. I wanted to tell him to stop punishing himself. I wanted to tell him I didn't hate him.
"And twenty," Keifer murmured softly right on cue.
The exact millisecond the timer hit, his hands instantly slid out from beneath the duvet. He pulled back completely, standing up straight and breaking all physical contact, respecting the law of my kingdom down to the very last fraction of a second.
I lay there frozen under the heavy white blanket, my ankles and feet tingling with the residual, burning heat of his touch and the soft pressure of his lips. The sudden loss of his warmth made the winter air feel ten times colder.
Keifer smoothed down his sweater, looking down at me with a soft, triumphant smile.
"Goodnight, your majesty. Sleep well."
He turned and began walking toward the stairs, leaving me alone in the dim living room.
I stared at his retreating back, my fingers clenching the duvet so tightly my knuckles turned white. Twenty seconds was too short. It was entirely, painfully too short. But as I tucked my warm feet closer to my chest, I knew I was the one who had written the law—and I was the one trapped inside it.