The transition from "campus partners" to "housemates" was jarring.
To the rest of the university, nothing had changed, but inside the SUV on the way to MSU, the air was thick with a new kind of energy.
Keifer sat in the driver's seat, glancing at Jay.
She was staring out the window, her fingers tracing the strap of her bag.
She looked beautiful, but she also looked like she was bracing herself for an impact.
"You know," Keifer said, breaking the silence as he navigated the busy Manila traffic. "We're supposed to be 'happily married.'
If we walk into the building looking like we're going to a funeral, people will talk."
Jay snapped her head toward him, her "Sunshine" mask clicking into place instantly.
"Oh! You're right. I'm sorry, Keifer. I'll be more careful."
Keifer groaned, though he was smiling. "That's not what I meant, Jay. I'm saying we should act like... well, like us. But better."
When they reached the campus, Keifer didn't just walk beside her.
He leaned in close, his shoulder brushing hers.
When they sat on their usual bench, he didn't stay on his side.
He leaned over her shoulder to look at her laptop, his face inches from hers.
"What are you doing?" Jay whispered, her heart doing a frantic dance.
"I'm being a normal husband," Keifer teased, his voice dropping into that smooth, flirty tone that usually made girls melt.
"I'm flirting with my wife. Is that against the rules, Mariano no sorry watson?"
"The invisible tape doesn't exist in public," Jay replied, trying to focus on her notes, though her hands were trembling.
"Good to know," Keifer smirked. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind her ear.
His fingers lingered for a second too long, his touch warm and surprisingly steady. "Because I've been wanting to do this since we first met."
He kept it up all day—bringing her a coffee without her asking, sitting close enough that their knees touched, and flashing her that "Golden Boy" grin that felt a little more real when it was directed at her.
He wanted to show her that he wasn't a threat. He wanted her to see that "normal" life involved laughter and light touches, not fear.
But every time he got too close, he felt Jay's body stiffen. She would smile, she would banter back, but she kept a mental distance that was harder to cross than any physical boundary.
She was enjoying the attention—he could see it in the way her eyes brightened—but she was also waiting for the other shoe to drop.
As they walked back to the car at the end of the day, Keifer caught her looking at him with a soft, confused expression.
"What?" he asked, grinning.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked softly. "The deal is already signed. You don't have to pretend when your parents aren't watching."
Keifer stopped by the car door, his expression turning serious. "Who said I'm pretending, Jay?"
Jay looked away, her smile returning like a shield. "You're a good actor, Keifer. Let's go home."
Keifer sighed, realizing he had a long way to go. He wasn't just fighting a contract; he was fighting years of shadows that told Jay she didn't deserve to be chased.