JAY'S POV — 31st December
The next morning didn't arrive quietly—it settles into my bones the moment I open my eyes, heavy and undeniable, like the universe itself is reminding me that by the end of today, nothing about my life will belong only to me anymore.
As I sit in the bridal suite surrounded by voices, movement, laughter, and soft chaos, I let them build the bride everyone expects while I try to hold onto the version of myself that still feels real beneath it all.
The dress is the first thing that makes it harder to breathe—not because it's tight, but because it's perfect.
White silk cascading down like it was designed to carry meaning, delicate embroidery catching the light every time I move, the fabric hugging me just enough to feel intimate but flowing enough to feel untouchable, and when they finally help me into it, adjusting the veil, fixing the last details,it felt surreal.....
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I look at my reflection and for a moment I don't see Jay—I see her, the woman everyone has already decided I am.
"Don't cry,"
James says immediately from behind me, voice unusually soft despite everything, standing there in his suit like he's trying to hold himself together, while Sam squeezes my hand.
Lily whistles dramatically, Lucy and Clea start arguing about how I'm "unfairly pretty," and Luna just looks at me like she knows this moment is bigger than I'm letting on, and I laugh—because that's what I do—
But it trembles at the edges in a way I can't fully hide.
The walk down the aisle feels endless and instant at the same time, my father's arm steady beneath my fingers as the doors open and the entire room rises, a sea of faces turning toward me—family, power, legacy, expectation.
Somewhere in the front I see Lola, fragile but glowing with quiet triumph, Serina beside her with soft pride in her eyes, my mother holding herself together in a way that makes my chest tighten, and for a second I wonder if they can hear how loud my heart is beating.
And then—him.
Keifer stands at the altar like he was carved into that moment, sharp lines, controlled presence, black suit sitting on him like power itself.
Jace beside him calm and observant, the rest of the world fading the second my eyes meet keifer's.
Because he isn't looking at me like a woman playing a role—he's looking at me like I've already become something real to him, and that realization hits harder than anything else so far.
When my father places my hand into his, there's a shift I can't explain—his fingers close around mine, warm, steady, grounding in a way that feels dangerously natural.
When the priest begins speaking, the words echo around us—vows, promises, forever—but they don't feel like noise anymore, they feel like something pressing against my chest, asking me if I understand what I'm stepping into.
"Do you, Jasper Jean Mariano, take Mark Keifer Watson as your lawfully wedded husband and stand beside him in all phases of life, in sickness and in health..."
The question hangs in the air, and for a moment everything slows—not the people, not the room, just me—and I look at him, really look at him, at the way he's watching me without hesitation, without doubt, like there was never another outcome for him, and something inside me shifts just enough to make my voice softer than I expect when I say,
"I do."
"Do you, Mark Keifer Watson, take Jasper Jean Mariano your lawfully wedded wife and stand beside her in all phases of life, in sickness and in health..."
"Yes,I do"
he says before the priest can even finish, the word immediate, certain, carrying something deeper than performance, something that makes a ripple move through the crowd but lands directly in my chest, because that didn't sound like part of the agreement—it sounded like truth.
The rings feel heavier than they should when they slide into place, cold at first and then warm against my skin, like they're settling into something permanent whether I'm ready or not, and when the priest finally says,
"You may kiss the bride,"
The entire room leans into the moment, waiting, expecting, celebrating something they believe is about to become real.
He steps closer, and the world narrows to just him—his presence, his breath, the space between us shrinking until I can feel it, until my pulse stutters in a way I can't control.
And for one second I think he's actually going to kiss me, actually cross the line we drew so carefully—but then his thumb lifts, resting gently against my lips, soft but deliberate, creating an illusion so perfect no one else notices, and when he leans in, it looks real, it feels real, everything about it convinces the world that we've sealed something sacred.
The room erupts—cheers, applause, flashes of light—but all I can focus on is how close he is, how his touch lingers for just a second longer than necessary, how my breath hasn't steadied yet, and how that almost-kiss… feels more intimate than if he had actually taken it.
Because it wasn't just restraint.
It was a choice.
And standing there, with his hand still wrapped around mine, the weight of his presence anchoring me to something.
I can't fully define, I realize with a quiet, unsettling clarity—this was supposed to be controlled, structured, safe… but somewhere between the vows we spoke and the kiss we didn't share, something shifted.
And I don't know if I'm ready for what that means.....
KEIFER'S POV
The moment she walks in, everything else disappears—not fades, not blurs—disappears—because there she is, in white, unreal in a way that feels almost cruel, like something this perfect shouldn't exist in a world like mine, and for a second I forget the crowd, the vows, the rules…
I just see her walking toward me like she was always meant to end up here.
When she stops in front of me and her hand slides into mine, I feel it—the slight tremor she's trying to hide, the hesitation buried beneath all that control—and when the priest asks me, I don't wait, I don't think, I don't measure the moment.
"Yes,I do."
Because for me, there was never another answer.
And when I lean in at the end, close enough to feel her breath falter, I see it again—that flicker of uncertainty in her eyes—and that's why my thumb comes up, resting gently against her lips, shielding her from a moment she's not ready for, even if the world thinks I've claimed it.
Because this… this isn't about proving anything to them.
It's about her.
And as the room erupts around us, one promise settles deep, unshakable, absolute in my mind—
No matter what this started as, no matter what she believes this is…
I will protect her from every darkness she doesn't see coming.
I will stand between her and anything that tries to break her.
And even if she never needs my love—
I will still give it to her completely,silently, irrevocably because now she's mine....
And I'm never letting her go again.....