JAY'S POV — 31st December, almost midnight
By the time everything ends—the ceremony, the reception, the endless congratulations, the smiles that started to feel stitched onto my face—
It's almost midnight, and the city feels quieter in a way that doesn't match the chaos still echoing inside me, and now it's just us.
Standing outside the penthouse that's supposed to be home, the word feeling unfamiliar as it settles between us like something we haven't agreed on yet.
The silence is strange after everything, heavy but not uncomfortable, and when Keifer finally speaks, his voice is calm, almost businesslike again, like we've stepped back into the rules we built.
"So… this is it,our marital home." he says, unlocking the door before adding,
"There are three rooms upstairs. You can take the master bedroom. I'll use one of the guest rooms."
I blink at him immediately, shaking my head. "No. You take the master room, Keifer."
He looks at me like that makes no sense. "Jay—"
"I'm serious," I cut in. "It's your place."
"It's ours now," he corrects quietly.
That word—ours—lingers for a second too long, and I look away first. "Still. You take it."
"And I said you take it."
We go back and forth like that for a few seconds, tired but stubborn, both refusing to give in, until finally he exhales, dragging a hand through his hair like he's choosing his battles. "Fine," I mutters. "I'll take the master bedroom.Are you okay with that?" I ask, softer now.
"I'll manage," he replies simply, but there's something in his tone that makes it sound like more than just a room.
We move upstairs after that, the quiet stretching again as we carry our suitcases down separate paths, like even now we're keeping distance, keeping things defined, and I'm just about to step into my room—when his voice stops me.
"Jay hold on.."
I turn, and he's closer now, walking toward me with something in his hand, his expression unreadable but not distant, not the way it used to be.
"This is for you," he says, holding out a small velvet box.
I hesitate for half a second before taking it, my fingers brushing his, and the contact lingers longer than it should.
"Also Happy New Year, Jaybird."
The nickname catches me off guard—but before I can react, before I can even process it—he leans in, and his lips press softly against my forehead.
Gentle.
Unexpected.
Gone before I can understand it.
And just like that—he steps back, turns, and walks into his room, closing the door behind him like nothing just happened—
I stand there for a second.Still.Confused.
Heart doing something it definitely shouldn't be doing.
Then I walk into my room slowly, closing the door behind me, the silence wrapping around me again, but this time it feels different—quieter, heavier, more real.
I look down at the box in my hand before opening it—and my breath catches.
The ring inside isn't just beautiful.
It's breathtaking.
A rare pink diamond, soft but striking, set perfectly like it was chosen with intention, with thought, with something deeper than obligation, and for a moment I just stare at it, because this doesn't feel like part of a deal.
There's a small note tucked inside.
I unfold it carefully.
~Happy Married life, Mrs. Watson.
My lips curve into a smile before I can stop them.Not a full smile.But not nothing either.
I slip the ring onto my finger slowly, watching how it fits—perfect, like it was always meant to be there—and then I look up at my reflection.
It's midnight.
Somewhere outside, the world is celebrating the new year—fireworks, noise, beginnings.
And here I am—standing in my wedding dress, in a house that isn't fully mine yet, wearing a ring given by a man I'm supposed to hate.
But the girl in the mirror?
She doesn't look like she hates anything.
She looks… different.
Like something shifted tonight.
Like something started, whether I wanted it to or not.
And as the first seconds of the new year settle quietly around me, one thought lingers, soft but undeniable—
This could either be the worst year of my life or the one that changes everything.