The night before Jay married Kiefer
Jay-Jay (POV)
"I'm leaving for Manila."
The words left my mouth before I could second-guess them.
I didn't wait for anyone to respond. I ran out immediately, heart pounding, with only one thought burning inside me—Kiefer.
I needed to see him. I needed to prove that I wasn't leaving him behind… that I wouldn't walk away after everything he had asked me to believe.
He asked me to trust him. To stay.
And I will. No matter what it takes.
I already had everything arranged—my passport and a private plane. I knew my Kuya would eventually agree; they always softened after the anger passed. They just needed time… and I intended to bring Kiefer with me to New York after I proposed to him.
The thought didn't even allow space for doubt.
I couldn't imagine him refusing.
And if he did… I would find a way to make him understand. I would keep trying until he chose me too.
Because right now, my entire world was reduced to one name—Kiefer.
When I reached the driveway, I signaled for the car—but my breath caught.
The tire was flat.
Of course.
A bitter laugh escaped me as I realized I had no time to fix it. If I went back inside, I knew they would stop me.
So I didn't hesitate.
I turned away from the car and called a taxi instead, refusing to let anything delay me—not even for a second.
Kiefer was the only destination I cared about now.
Everything felt normal… until it didn't.
"Sir, I'm going to be late for my flight," I said quickly. "Please, can you go faster?"
The driver nodded and pressed harder on the accelerator.
The city blurred outside the window—lights, buildings, and people fading into streaks of color. I was restless. My mind wasn't even on the road anymore. It was already ahead… already with Kiefer.
Then—
It happened in a second.
A car came out of nowhere.
Impact.
A sharp jolt threw me forward, my forehead hitting the front seat hard. Pain exploded through my head instantly.
For a moment, everything went white.
Car lights flashed through the windshield, distorting, spinning—
My breathing stopped.
And then—
It started—
with a voice.
Faint at first… like it was breaking through something thick and distant.
"Jay… I'm here."
My breath caught.
I knew that voice.
Kiefer.
My vision blurred with tears, but I could see him—his hands holding me, his face so close, so real.
"Didn't you promise me you'd stay with me?" he asked, his voice shaking.
He was crying.
Kiefer… was crying for me.
"Then why… why would you do this to yourself?"
My chest tightened.
"Did… did Kiefer know me before…?" I whispered, clutching my head as pain pulsed through it.
"Ma'am… you don't look well. Should we go to a hospital?" the driver's voice cut through everything.
I blinked.
The world snapped back.
The car had stopped.
I didn't even realize when.
"I'm okay, sir…" My voice came out weak. "Please… just take me to the airport."
He hesitated.
I could feel his eyes on me through the mirror—but I kept asking.
Again.
And again.
Until finally… he sighed and started driving.
And then—
Another memory hit.
"I have never regretted loving you, Kiefer…"
My own voice.
Clear.
Certain.
Like a promise carved into something deeper than memory.
My fingers dug into my temples.
Why don't I remember this?
Why don't I remember him?
"Come on…" I whispered to myself, almost desperate now. "Think, Jay… use your brain… remember."
I forced it.
Pushed harder.
Like dragging something buried too deep, too heavy—
And then it broke free.
Memories.
Sharp.
Unforgiving.
Painful.
I gasped as they came rushing in, each one cutting deeper than the last.
And I started crying.
Silently at first.
Tears slipping down without a sound.
But then—
I couldn't stop.
Because it all hurt.
Every single piece of it.
It came back as it had never left me at all.
Just waiting.
Waiting for the moment I'd be weak enough to feel it again.
My head throbbed.
My chest ached.
But it wasn't the kind of pain that made it hard to breathe—
It was worse.
It was my memory.
They hurt.
Too much.
"I…" My voice broke as the world tilted.
Everything spun.
And then—
Darkness.
When I opened my eyes again—
white.
Bright lights.
The sharp smell of antiseptic.
A hospital.
I was lying in the ER.
For a second, I didn't move. Didn't think. Just stared at the ceiling, trying to understand how I got here.
Then the curtain shifted.
"Ma'am… how are you feeling?" the taxi driver stepped in, worry written all over his face. "You suddenly collapsed, so I brought you here. Are you okay?"
I swallowed, my throat dry.
"Did you… Call anyone? My family?"
He shook his head. "No, ma'am. I was about to."
"Don't," I said immediately, forcing myself up slightly. "Don't call them. I'm okay."
I wasn't.
But I couldn't let them know.
Not now.
The doctor walked in a moment later, his expression serious.
"Miss, have you had any head injury or surgery before?" he asked. "Are you trying to force yourself to remember something?"
I froze.
He noticed.
"You're putting extreme stress on your brain," he continued. "This can trigger another panic episode. You also have a high fever. Your body is already weak—you're shaking, and you can barely stand."
His voice softened, but it didn't change the weight of his words.
"It would be best to call your family. We need to discuss your condition with your guardian."
I nodded slowly.
But my mind was already somewhere else.
If I stay here…
They'll call Kuya.
And I'm not ready.
Not yet.
Not like this.
"I need to leave…" I muttered under my breath.
Before I could stop myself, I pushed the blanket aside and stood up.
The moment my feet touched the floor—
My legs gave out.
I collapsed hard.
Pain shot up as my knees hit the ground, my body trembling uncontrollably.
"Damn it…" I whispered, gripping my leg, forcing it to be steady.
The curtain snapped open.
"Ma'am! What are you doing? You need rest!" the driver rushed in, trying to help me up.
I grabbed his arm, desperate.
"Sir… please…" My voice shook, but my eyes didn't. "I need to go to the Philippines. Right now."
He hesitated.
"I don't want my family to know," I added, softer this time. "I'll be okay. I know my body."
That was a lie.
But I didn't care.
"Please… It's important."
He looked at me for a long second.
Then—
He nodded.
Everything after that felt like a blur.
The hospital.
The drive.
The lights.
The noise.
When I stepped out of the taxi, my hands trembled as I gave him everything I had.
All my cash.
Because he saved me.
Because he got injured… because of me.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
And before I could break again—
I turned and ran toward the flight.
"Ma'am, why are you so late?" the pilot asked as soon as he saw me.
"Sorry…" I whispered. "I have something I need to do."
That was all.
I stepped inside the plane.
Took my seat.
It all came back.
The memories I buried for four years—
every single one of them.
I sat there on the plane, frozen, unable to move as they kept coming back, one after another, without mercy.
My stepfather.
The abuse.
The nights I thought I wouldn't survive.
Aries… the stabbing, the betrayal.
And Kiefer's accident.
The moment everything broke.
Everything I tried so hard to forget—
came rushing back as it had never left me.
I couldn't stop it.
I couldn't breathe through it.
And I cried.
Not quietly.
Not softly.
I cried like everything inside me was finally breaking open.
Like all the pain I locked away had been waiting for this moment—
to be felt again.
My hands trembled in my lap as tears kept falling, uncontrollably.
Because it wasn't just memories.
It was everything I lost.
Everything I ran from.
Everything I never healed from.
And now—
I had to face all of it.
At once.
With shaking hands, I wiped my tears roughly, trying to steady myself—but it didn't work.
Because now…
I understood.
"That's why…" I whispered, my voice cracking. "That's why they didn't want me to go to Manila…"
It wasn't controlled.
It wasn't selfishness.
It was fear.
"They weren't trying to trap me…" I murmured, my chest tightening painfully. "They were trying to protect me…"
Protect me from this.
From remembering.
From breaking all over again.
A broken laugh escaped me, weak and trembling.
"They were scared I'd… do it again…"
My fingers clenched tightly into my clothes.
"Because they love me."
That realization hurt more than anything else.
More than the memories.
More than the past.
"They really love me…"
And here I was—
falling apart in a plane seat, shaking, barely holding myself together.
Broken.
"What they tried to hide…" I whispered, my voice barely there. "It finally broke me anyway…"
Tears kept falling, softer now, but heavier.
Because now I remembered everything.
Every piece.
Every ugly, painful part of my life, I tried to erase.
And yet—
through all of it—
There was one truth I couldn't ignore.
"I have everything now…"
My voice trembled, but there was something else in it this time.
Something fragile.
Something real.
"A family…"
Not the one I was born into.
Not the one that hurt me.
But the one that stayed.
The one who chose me.
The one who fought for me even when I didn't understand why.
"And I almost ran away from them again…"
My lips trembled.
Because this time—
I knew.
"I'm not alone anymore."
My eyes fell to my hand.
The scar.
Faded—but still there.
A reminder.
I traced it slowly with my fingers, my breathing uneven.
"I'm not that weak girl anymore…" I whispered.
Not the one who couldn't fight back.
Not the one who only knew how to run.
"I was loved…" my voice trembled, softer now. "I am loved…"
By the family I have now.
The one that stayed.
The one who chose me.
Then—
My gaze shifted.
And everything inside me stilled.
The tattoo.
His name.
Kiefer.
My fingers froze over it.
And just like that—
I remembered.
Not the soft moments.
Not the way he held me.
But the words.
The ones that broke me.
"I used you… and the whole Section E knows."
His voice.
Cold.
Sharp.
Even after four years—
It sounded like he had just said it.
My breath hitched.
"So… it was me…" I whispered.
They weren't talking about someone else.
They were talking about me.
"C-in said they lost me…"
"Kiegen said I ran away from my problems…"
A bitter smile formed on my lips.
"They weren't wrong…"
Silence settled around me, heavy and suffocating.
But my heart—
It didn't listen.
"I still fell for him…" I admitted quietly.
My fingers tightened slightly over his name.
"Again…"
A tear slipped down.
"Even deeper than before."
I closed my eyes, shaking my head as I could stop it.
"I don't want to lose what I have now…"
My family.
Their love.
The life I finally built.
"I can't change my past…"
My voice broke.
"So I can't ruin my present happiness."
Because if I told him—
If I told all of them—
They would look at me differently.
With pity.
With pain.
With something I couldn't bear to see.
"I don't want that look…" I whispered. "Not from them…"
Not from him.
But even then—
even knowing all of it—
My heart refused to let go.
"I still want him…"
The truth came out fragilely.
Honest.
Unavoidable.
"Even when I forgot… I still chose him…"
I let out a shaky breath.
And then—
I made a choice.
"If everyone is happy with this version of me…"
My hand dropped from the tattoo.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
"Then I'll bury it again."
The words felt heavy.
Wrong.
But easier.
Safer.
"I'll pretend I don't remember…"
I wiped my tears quickly, almost aggressively.
"Then everyone can be happy."
I tapped my cheeks lightly, forcing myself to be steady.
"Come on…" I muttered under my breath. "Don't break now…"
Not here.
Not again.
"I can't break."
But even as I said it—
My fingers curled slightly against my palm.
Right over his name.
Like something inside me refused to let go completely.
My phone rang again.
I answered without thinking.
"Ma'am," the bartender said, "I found the person who came looking for you on Feb 29… the one you called your husband."
My breath caught.
Feb 29.
"Husband…" I whispered.
"I totally forgot about that…"
"That day," he continued, "there was a birthday celebration here. Your picture got captured in their photos. I contacted them and asked them to send it."
A message came in.
Photos.
My fingers trembled as I opened them.
And the moment I saw—
Everything went still.
It was us
Kiefer
and Me.
I was leaning on his shoulder.
So naturally.
So close.
Like I belonged there.
But it was his face that broke me.
His eyes.
They were wet.
Broken.
And yet—
They were still looking at me like I was everything.
A sharp breath left me.
"I know that look…" I whispered.
And in that moment—
I understood something my memories couldn't erase.
"He loves me…"
Not past tense.
Not something that ended.
Still.
Even when I didn't remember him—
He stayed.
Beside me.
My fingers tightened around the phone.
"But why…?" My voice cracked. "Why did you lie, Kiefer…?"
Why say those words?
Why make me believe I meant nothing?
"If you loved me…" my voice trembled, breaking under the weight of it, "even in silence…"
"Then why would you use those words to hurt me?"
Tears blurred my vision.
"Why go so far… just to break my heart?"
My chest ached with something deeper than pain now.
Something heavier.
Because if this was love—
Then why did it feel like destruction?
I closed my eyes, holding the phone tightly against my chest.
Trying to steady myself.
Trying to choose.
"Rather than living in grief…" I whispered.
My voice wasn't shaking anymore.
"I'll choose you."
A tear slipped down.
But this time—
I didn't feel like I was breaking.
"I'll live in your arms…"
My lips curved into the faintest, most fragile smile.
"…with a smile."
And just like that—
for the first time since everything came back—
My heart stopped running.
It chose him.
We always say the people we love would never hurt us.
But we know the truth—
The deeper we fall, the more power we place in their hands.
They can hurt us just as deeply as we love them.
And even when they do—
We don't stop choosing them.
Again.
And again.
Because that's what love does.
It erases boundaries.
It ignores limits.
It doesn't ask how much is too much.
So yes—
He may hurt me again.
And I'm still willing to give him everything I am.
Happily.
Without hesitation.
Because I love you—
Mark Kiefer Watson.
And this time—
I'm not walking away.
I'm choosing you.
And I'm making you mine.