Jay-Jay (POV)
I walked along the beach with no destination in mind.
Just… walking.
The sand shifted under my feet, the waves rolling in and out like they always did—
steady.
Unbothered.
Like nothing in the world had ever been broken.
Like hearts didn't shatter.
Like, people didn't leave.
My chest tightened.
Because I wasn't like that.
I was breaking—
quietly,
slowly,
with every step I took.
The wind brushed against my skin, cold and restless, but it didn't help.
Nothing did.
Not the silence.
Not the distance.
Not even time.
Because no matter how far I walked—
I could still feel him.
Behind me.
Close enough to reach.
Far enough to hurt.
"Jay… talk to me."
His voice cut through the sound of the waves.
Low.
Careful.
Like he was afraid I'd disappear if he spoke too loudly.
I didn't turn.
Didn't slow down.
I kept walking—
Like, I didn't hear him.
Like, I didn't feel him there.
But my fingers curled slightly at my sides.
Because I did.
I always did.
I kept walking.
Like, I didn't hear him.
"Talk to your face, asshole!" I snapped without turning.
"Jay—if you're thinking about divorce, I'm not giving it to you," he shouted.
That stopped me.
I turned instantly.
And walked straight toward him—fast.
"You have the nerve to bring up divorce?" I shot back. "Who said I'm divorcing you?"
I grabbed his collar and pulled him closer.
"Don't even think about it."
My voice dropped, sharp and steady.
"If I wanted a divorce… I would've never married you in the first place."
I tightened my grip.
"You're tied to me until I die," I said, kicking his knee lightly.
"Ow—" he muttered, holding his knee.
"And I'll make sure you suffer for what you did to me."
But he was smiling.
Like he got exactly what he wanted.
Like I had just confessed something he'd been waiting to hear.
"Tss,"
I turned away, walking off again.
"Jay, don't go too far—you'll get tired," he called after me.
I rolled my eyes without turning.
"What if I do?" I shot back.
"Then I'll have to come carry you."
I snorted under my breath. "In your dreams."
But my steps didn't slow.
"…I'll probably get hungry," I muttered a second later, quieter—like it wasn't important.
"I'll cook," he replied instantly. "Come back, and it'll be ready."
I paused.
Just a little.
This jerk…
Why does he know me so well?
"Don't overthink it," he added, like he could hear my thoughts. "I know my wife."
I clicked my tongue. "Stop saying that."
A beat.
"Why?" he asked, voice dropping just slightly. "It's true."
I finally glanced back—
And there he was, already watching me.
Too calm.
Too confident.
And then—
He winked.
I turned away so fast it almost looked suspicious, pressing my hand lightly against my chest.
"Shameless," I muttered.
"Still yours," he called back.
My grip tightened slightly against my shirt.
Don't fall, Jay.
Don't fall for his stupid flirting.
…Idiot.
When I finally came back, I slowed near the house.
Something felt… different.
Quieter.
Too quiet.
I stepped inside.
And stopped.
The kitchen was clean.
Everything I had messed up earlier—
gone.
No chaos.
And dinner…
was already waiting on the table.
My gaze shifted slowly.
And then I saw him.
Kiefer.
Asleep on the couch.
Still in the same clothes.
One arm resting over his stomach, the other hanging loosely at his side.
It was the first time I was seeing his face clearly after three days.
I had been avoiding it… afraid that if I looked too long, I would forget everything else.
But now—
He was right there.
And I couldn't look away.
His face looked tired.
Too tired.
Dark circles sat heavily under his eyes—ones I hadn't noticed before.
Like he hadn't really slept in days.
My chest tightened without permission.
This jerk… he must have come straight from Australia just to meet me. Like he hadn't really slept in days.
My chest tightened without permission.
This jerk… he must have come straight from Australia to meet me. He didn't just fix the mess.
He cleaned everything.
I stood there for a moment, just watching him.
The anger I was holding earlier…
didn't feel as sharp anymore.
It felt… heavier.
Different.
I took a slow step closer.
Then another.
And stopped right in front of him.
He didn't wake.
Just breathe slowly.
Still.
Exhausted.
My fingers curled slightly at my side.
"…You really don't know how to stop, do you?" I whispered. I stood there for a moment, just watching him.
My voice wasn't angry.
Not fully.
Just soft.
Conflicted.
I looked away for a second… then back at him.
This stupid man…
pushing himself like this.
My chest tightened again.
I moved closer without thinking and sat down near the couch.
My gaze stayed on him.
For a moment, I didn't even realize I was staring.
The sunlight slowly shifted across his face.
Warm.
Too bright.
Without thinking, I reached up and pulled the curtains halfway closed.
…There," I muttered quietly, stepping in front of the window so my shadow blocked the sunlight from reaching his face.
"Jay… what are you doing?"
His voice came low.
Rough from sleep.
My eyes flicked down.
He was still lying there, eyes half closed.
"…Nothing," I said quickly.
A pause.
Then his voice again—lower this time.
"Jay… why?? Won't you even let me explain?"
My breath stilled.
His jaw tightened slightly as he continued.
"It's fucking torture," he muttered. "Standing near you… where I can't kiss you… can't touch you…"
Silence.
Heavy.
My fingers twitched.
"You knew, why??" I finally admitted.
The words came out quieter than I expected.
Raw.
Honest.
"Jay…" he groaned softly.
And then—
I saw it.
His face.
Pale.
Too pale.
His lips are slightly dry… almost white.
My heart dropped instantly.
"…Kiefer?"
Before I even fully thought—
My body moved.
I reached out and placed my hand on his forehead.
And froze.
Burning.
He was burning.
"Asshole… you have a fever?" I said, my voice rising.
My frown deepened.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"It's not like I'm going to die from a fever," he replied, calm as ever.
That only made it worse.
"Come with me," I said, grabbing his arm.
I pulled him up—
But he stumbled, his weight dropping suddenly against me.
"Hey—!"
My breath hitched as I caught him, his body pressing into mine.
Too close.
Too warm.
His arm instinctively tightened around me, like even half-conscious, he knew where to hold.
"Stand properly," I muttered, trying to steady both of us. "Otherwise we're both going to fall."
But he didn't fully pull away.
His forehead brushed lightly against my temple for a second—
burning.
His breath was uneven against my neck.
Hot.
Slow.
Too real.
"Jay…" he murmured, his voice rough, barely there. "I need to talk to you."
My fingers tightened against his arm without meaning to.
"Not now," I said, sharper than I felt.
I shifted slightly, trying to move him—but he leaned into me again, like his body refused to listen.
"You can talk after your fever goes down," I added, quieter this time.
A pause.
"…Right now, you can't even stand."
My grip didn't loosen.
If anything—
It tightened slightly.
Without giving him a chance to argue, I dragged him toward the bed.
He didn't resist this time.
Just followed.
Too weak to fight me.
I helped him sit down, steadying him as his weight shifted again.
Then I hesitated.
Just for a second.
Before reaching for his shirt.
"…Don't make it weird," I muttered under my breath.
It's not like I hadn't seen him like this before.
But still—
I couldn't get used to it.
He didn't respond.
Didn't tease.
Didn't move.
That alone made my chest tighten.
I pulled his shirt off carefully—
and froze for half a second.
His skin was burning.
Heat radiating off him, too strong, too real.
Muscles tense.
Exhaustion was written all over him.
Like his body was holding on by force.
I swallowed and quickly looked away, grabbing a towel.
"Stay still," I said.
Quieter this time.
I soaked it in cold water and started wiping his skin gently, trying to bring the fever down.
He stayed quiet.
Too quiet.
That alone made me uneasy.
After a while, I stood up.
I walked downstairs quickly.
Opened the refrigerator.
And started searching for anything I could cook for him.
My eyes landed on abalone.
Then I remembered something—
Kiran had mentioned once that Kiefer liked porridge made from this.
I didn't think twice.
I took it out and started cleaning it.
But the moment the fishy smell hit me—
My stomach turned.
I froze.
"…Ugh."
I leaned over the sink and threw up once, quickly wiping my mouth after.
My hand moved to my stomach instinctively.
"Hey, baby…" I whispered softly, rubbing it. "Your dad is sick… I need to take care of him. Don't make me feel sick right now…"
I paused, exhaling slowly.
"Be good, okay?"
I stayed there for a second longer before trying again.
This time, slower.
Careful.
And somehow—
The smell didn't hit as hard.
Maybe it was passing.
Maybe I was just getting used to it.
"…Good job," I murmured, gently patting my stomach.
A small, tired smile slipped through.
"You must really love your dad… making it easier for me like this."
I shook my head softly.
"That jerk doesn't even know you exist yet… and you're already on his side."
The words came out quieter.
Softer.
But warmer than anything I had said all day.
I turned back to the stove, focusing on the porridge as it simmered on a low flame.
Slow.
Steady.
Careful—
just like everything else right now.
And after a while—
It was done.
I placed the bowl carefully on a tray and went upstairs.
Kiefer was already awake.
I searched the room slightly when I entered.
The moment his eyes landed on me, his expression softened.
"Where did you go?" he asked hoarsely.
I didn't answer.
Instead, I adjusted his pillow and sat beside him.
"Eat," I said, lifting the spoon.
He stared at me for a second.
Then leaned back slightly.
"Jay… I feel weak," he said softly. "Can't you feed me?"
I narrowed my eyes immediately.
"You're acting weak on purpose."
He didn't deny it.
That made me even more annoyed.
But… his fever was still there.
And he really did look exhausted.
I exhaled.
"…Fine."
I scooped the porridge, blew on it gently to cool it down, then brought it to his lips.
He ate quietly.
His gaze never left my face.
"It's delicious," he murmured after a moment.
I blinked slightly.
"…Good," I said, looking away. "Then eat and get better soon."
A small smile appeared on his lips.
Like that was all he needed to hear.
The room turned quiet again.
Too quiet.
He finished everything, and I picked up the empty tray.
I stood up—
But before I could take another step, his hand caught my wrist.
In one sudden pull, he drew me back.
My breath hitched as his arm wrapped around my waist, guiding me off balance.
"Hey—!"
Before I could react, he pulled me fully onto the bed.
We landed sitting—
But I barely had time to process it.
Because in the next second—
He was behind me.
Warm.
Close.
Too close.
His arm wrapped firmly around my waist, holding me in place like he wasn't willing to let even the smallest distance exist between us.
Like letting go—even a little—wasn't an option anymore.
And in the next second—
He was behind me.
Warm.
Close.
His arm stayed firmly around my waist, holding me in place like he wasn't willing to let even a small distance exist between us.
My back pressed against his chest.
"Are you insane?" I snapped immediately, turning my head slightly. "You said you had no strength."
A faint exhale brushed against my neck.
"Jay…" he said quietly.
My body stiffened.
"Please… listen to me."
"Leave me, you asshole—"
My voice broke as my hands hit his arm—again and again—before I even realized I was crying.
"I hate you, Kiefer… I hate you…"
I tried to push him away.
Tried to create distance.
But my chest tightened so badly it hurt.
My hand pressed against my heart, like I could ease it somehow.
"I can't—" I gasped.
"Jay… breathe."
His voice changed instantly.
Soft.
Steady.
"Slowly… breathe."
His arms tightened around me.
Not forcing.
Just… holding.
"I'm here."
A pause.
"I'm not leaving you."
My breath stuttered.
I felt his lips press gently against my head.
And I hated it.
Hated how something so small—
made the pain ease, even just a little.
"Don't cry," he murmured, his hand brushing my tears away.
Too carefully.
Like I might break if he touched me wrong.
He pulled me closer, wrapping me fully in his arms this time—
like he was trying to shield me from everything.
Even himself.
"Your Kiefer is here," he whispered.
His lips pressed softly against my eyes.
And something inside me—
Finally gave up.
My hands, still weakly pushing against him, slowly lost their strength.
Dropped.
My fingers curled into his shirt instead.
Tight.
Like, I didn't know how to let go anymore.
A broken sound slipped out of me before I could stop it.
Not words.
Just… pain.
"I hate you…" I whispered again—
But it didn't sound the same.
It wasn't anger anymore.
It was breaking.
My forehead fell against his chest as my body gave in, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
"I hate you so much…" I choked out, gripping him harder. "Why would you do that to me…?"
My voice cracked completely.
"Do you even know how much it hurt…?"
His arms tightened around me instantly.
Stronger.
Like he was holding me together.
"I know you're scared, please listen to me," he said softly.
My fingers curled faintly against the bedsheet.
And something inside me finally cracked open.
"Good," I said quietly, almost bitterly. "So you knew I was scared."
A sharp, broken laugh escaped me.
"Wow, Mr. Kiefer…"
I turned my head slightly, eyes burning.
"…Then why don't you know the reason too?"
My voice dropped softer but more painfully.
"I don't even know if what I'm hearing from you is real… or just something I want to believe because I miss you."
His breath hitched.
"Jay—" he called again.
But I didn't stop.
"Why?" I whispered, my voice shaking now. "I don't even know my husband anymore."
My throat tightened.
"Why do you hide things from me and act like nothing is wrong?"
A shaky breath.
"You should've been an actor, Kiefer…"
My lips trembled into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"…you would've made me believe everything was fine. You would've won an Oscar."
My eyes glistened, but I refused to break.
"Is it nice?" I whispered. "Pretending everything is okay… while I'm the only one breaking?"
He was still holding me tightly from behind.
My back pressed against his chest.
Like I couldn't escape him—
or the way I felt.
My breath trembled.
"It's hurting, Kiefer…" I whispered, pressing my hand lightly against my chest.
"Right here."
A pause.
"Loving you is easy… like breathing."
My voice cracked.
"But hating you…"
I swallowed hard.
"…it feels like hell."
His arms tightened slightly.
I closed my eyes.
"It hurts living like this with you… not knowing what you're hiding."
A shaky breath left me.
"And I still remember everything you did to me."
Silence.
Heavy.
"I thought maybe… You had a reason."
My fingers curled into the bedsheet.
"So I convinced myself."
"I told myself it was in the past… that I could still be happy with you."
My throat tightened.
"I knew from the beginning you had a plan."
A pause.
"But I still chose you."
Because I wanted him.
Because I needed him.
"I tried to forget it…"
My voice broke.
"But it keeps coming back."
"…like it's clawing its way out of me."
I finally closed my eyes.
"I don't know, that your same Kiefer I once knew."
Silence.
Then—
"Jay… you know me. I'm here."
His voice was soft.
Too close.
Too real.
I buried my face in my hands as if hiding could somehow hold everything together.
He was hurting.
I could feel it.
I knew my words were cutting into him, even without seeing his face.
But his arms didn't let go.
He was still holding me from behind… still listening.
Still staying.
And that somehow made it worse.
My voice broke as I spoke again.
"You think I forget everything… that you're just a part of my past that doesn't matter anymore."
A shaky breath.
"But it's not like that, Kiefer."
My fingers curled into the pillow.
"I only forget the details…"
My throat tightened.
"…but I never forgot you."
Silence.
Heavy.
"I don't have anything without you," I whispered.
"You're my everything."
My voice softened, trembling now.
"If it's not you… I don't even know what my past is supposed to mean."
A pause.
"You were my happiness…"
My breath hitched.
"The only real happiness I had before I turned eighteen."
My eyes burned.
"I never had a family…"
A small, broken exhale.
"…or someone who loved me the way you did."
My grip tightened.
"And I loved you."
My voice cracked completely.
"You knew how much I loved you."
Silence.
Then softer—
"I'm scared, Kiefer."
A pause.
"Scared that one day I'll wake up and we won't be okay anymore."
My voice trembled harder.
"That you'll push me away… and say you don't love me anymore."
A breath.
"That I was just something temporary… something you used to feel less alone."
His voice cut through immediately.
"Don't even finish that sentence."
Cold.
Sharp.
Final.
My body went still.
And then he spoke again—lower, but firmer.
"How can you even think I'd fall for someone else, Jay?"
A pause.
"It's you."
His grip tightened slightly.
"Only you."
"I will love you no matter what."
My breath shook.
But the fear didn't leave.
"What if you leave me again?" I whispered anyway.
"I can't take it anymore, Kiefer…"
My voice broke completely.
"I can't…"
Silence swallowed the room.
Then I whispered one last thing—smaller now.
"I'm not stupid…"
A shaky inhale.
"I believe every word you say… because I love you."
My chest tightened.
"And you don't even understand how much that means…"
Silence.
But not empty.
I could feel it—
the way his body stilled behind me.
And then—
Something warm touched my back.
My breath faltered.
Tears.
He wasn't saying anything.
Wasn't trying to defend himself.
Wasn't interrupting.
He was just… there.
Holding me.
And crying.
Quietly.
Like he didn't think he had the right to make a sound.
"I do, Jay…"
A pause.
His voice cracked slightly.
"I understand."