Jay-Jay (POV)
When I woke up, Kiefer wasn't beside me.
His side of the bed was cold… and his car keys were gone too.
He must've gone out.
I waited.
One hour.
Every minute felt longer than it should have.
When he finally came back, something was… off. His face—tense, distant… angry.
Before I could even ask anything, he walked straight to me and kissed me.
Not soft. Not gentle.
It wasn't love—it was urgency. Possession.
Like he needed to prove I was still his.
I could taste alcohol on his lips.
When the kiss broke, we were both breathless.
"Kiefer…" I whispered.
He looked at me.
"Hm."
"Where did you go?"
"Just outside… something important came up," he said, pulling me into his arms.
"Why are you awake?"
"I can't sleep when you're not next to me," I said softly, holding him tighter.
He hugged me back… but something in it felt heavier than usual.
"Kiefer… what happened?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he buried his face in my neck, lifted me, and sat down with me in his lap.
I couldn't see his face—only feel his uneven breath against my skin.
"Hey… tell me. Is everything okay?"
"…Hm."
That was it.
I wanted to ask more… but I wanted him to tell me on his own.
Then—
"Wife…"his voice was low, almost breaking.
"What if I die? Will you marry someone else?"
I froze.
"What the fuck did you just say?"
I tried to pull back, to see his face—but he hid it.
"Jay… please," he said, tightening his hold on me.
My heart twisted.
"Why would I even be alive after that?" I said, my voice trembling but firm.
"If death takes you, it won't take just you… I'll come find you. Heaven, hell—I don't care… I'll be there."
"Jay…" he whispered.
"When I say I love you… I mean it. Even death doesn't get to separate us," I said.
And then—
I felt it.
His tears.
"Kiefer…"
I gently cupped his face, forcing him to look at me. His eyes… they scared me.
So I kissed him. Softly this time.
"If you die," I murmured against his lips, trying to lighten the weight between us,"and if I marry someone else… you'd haunt them as a ghost, wouldn't you?"
A faint smile touched his lips.
"My wife knows me so well," he said softly.
We both smiled.
A small, broken breath left him.
And this time when we kissed…
it wasn't desperate.It wasn't possessive.
It was… us.
Quiet. Deep. Real.
Like we were reminding each other—we exist because we're together.
He lowered me onto the bed, his lips brushing mine, then my neck…
My arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer—closer—like distance itself was unbearable.
And then suddenly he stopped.
"Jay… we need to stop," he said, his voice strained.
"Why?"
"You're pregnant… and I won't be able to control myself if we continue."
I smiled softly.
My careful, overthinking husband…
I pulled him closer, whispering near his ear,
"It's okay… it's still early. Just… be gentle."
His breath hitched.
His eyes darkened—not with anger, but something deeper.
"Come here, hubby," I teased, opening my arms.
His ears turned red.
And then he came back to me—slow this time.
What we shared after that…
It wasn't about need.
Or hunger.
It was about everything we couldn't say out loud.
Every fear.
Every promise.
Every piece of love we had carried in silence.
"I fucking missed you…" he muttered against my skin.
"Me too… I missed you," I whispered back.
"You're mine… only mine," he said.
Then he bent down and bit my neck—slow, deliberate—leaving a mark like a seal… like I belonged to him.
A soft breath escaped me as I pulled him closer, kissing him—my fingers tightening against his bare skin.
And he held me tighter in return.
I smiled softly and kissed his forehead.
And I held him tighter—
because something inside me knew…
This wasn't just about missing me.
Something had shaken him.
And he still hadn't told me what.
When I woke up… he was gone.
But something felt different.
My body was warm and clean.
He must have given me a bath after I fell asleep.
I looked down.
I was wearing his clothes.
Slowly, I lifted my hands to my face and breathed in.
It smelled like him… like Kiefer my husband..
A small smile formed on my lips.
When I stood in front of the mirror, my breath hitched.
My collarbone… my neck…
Marked in soft reds.
I traced them gently, my fingers lingering for a moment—
and I smiled.
Then, quietly, I covered them.
I changed into a dress that hid everything… every mark, every memory.
And went downstairs.
Kiran and Kiegen were already at the table, having breakfast.
Both of them looked up the moment I walked in.
Kiran raised an eyebrow immediately.
Kiegen just stared… then slowly smirked.
"Good morning," I said, trying to act normal as I walked toward the table.
"Is it?" Kiran asked, dragging the words, his eyes scanning me like he already knew something.
I frowned. "What does that mean?"
Kiegen leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "Nothing… just wondering why someone who never wakes up early is suddenly here before us."
"I always wake up early," I lied, pulling a chair and sitting down.
Kiran chuckled. "Yeah? And you always wear high-neck dresses for breakfast too?"
My hand instinctively went to my neck.
Damn.
"I just felt like it," I said quickly, picking up the glass of juice.
Kiegen leaned forward slightly, his voice teasing but sharp. "Or… you're hiding something?"
I looked at him, trying to keep my face steady. "You both are acting weird."
"We're acting weird?" Kiran laughed. "You walked in smiling to yourself like you've got a secret."
I froze for a second.
Was I smiling?
I looked down at my glass, trying to hide it.
"I'm just in a good mood," I said quietly.
Kiegen didn't respond this time. His eyes softened just a little, like he understood more than he was saying.
Kiran, on the other hand, wasn't done.
"So…" he said, leaning his chin on his hand. "Where's kuya?"
My heart skipped.
"I don't know," I replied, a little too quickly. "He wasn't there when I woke up."
"hmm," Kiran hummed, clearly not convinced.
Before he could say anything else,
"I'm dropping you both at school," I said, sitting down. "So eat slowly—we have time."
They nodded and continued eating.
After they finished, they went upstairs to get ready.
I cleaned up a bit and waited.
Kigen came first.
Then Kiran.
His hair was a mess.
Just like mine most days.
I smiled a little and walked up to him, fixing his tie.
"Stand still," I muttered.
He didn't argue.
As I adjusted it—
I saw it.
A bruise.
Near his collar.
He immediately pulled his shirt up, trying to cover it.
My hand stilled.
"What is that?" I asked.
"Nothing," he said quickly.
Too quickly.
I didn't push.
Not yet.
We got into the car.
Kigen sat beside me.
Kiran sat in the back.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
I dropped Kigen first.
He got out calmly, like always.
Kiefer once said Kigen was sharp—like someone who sees everything.
But unlike Kiran…
He never showed it.
Then I drove to Kiran's school.
The moment the car stopped—
He got out fast.
Didn't even look back.
Suspicious.
Very suspicious.
I watched him walk away.
Fast.
Like he didn't want me to follow.
I frowned.
But I let it go.
For now.
I drove back home.
But as I stepped out of the car—
Something caught my eye.
A pen drive.
On the back seat.
I picked it up.
Kiran's.
He must've forgotten it.
And knowing him—
He probably worked hard on whatever was inside.
I didn't even think twice.
I got back in the car and drove to his school again.
This time—
Something felt off.
Too quiet.
I walked toward the admin office.
"Excuse me, which section is Mike Kiran Watson in?" I asked.
They told me.
I thanked them and walked down the corridor.
When I reached his classroom—
He wasn't there.
"Do you know where Kiran is?" I asked one of his classmates.
"Go to the guidance office," she said.
"Guidance office?" I repeated, frowning.
I nodded and turned.
As I walked—
I started hearing voices.
Whispers.
I ignored them.
Until—
I heard his name.
Kiran.
My steps slowed.
"Kiran," I said.
"Are you his mother?"
The voice came from behind me.
I turned.
I didn't recognize him.
"I'm Kiran's friend," he said quickly. "You don't look like his mother… but—"
He hesitated, glancing past me like he didn't know how to say it.
"…he got into a fight," he said in a low voice. "They're blaming him… but he was protecting himself."
My chest tightened.
"What do you mean—"
Before I could finish—
A voice cut through the air.
Loud.
Sharp.
Accusing.
Then stopped.
"…Doesn't this school have a reputation?" a woman's voice said sharply.
"If you don't even have a mother to teach you manners, no wonder you're picking fights with my child."
Something inside me—
Snapped.
My grip tightened around the pen drive.
My chest burned.
Before I even realized it—
I had already kicked the door open.
The sound echoed.
Everyone turned.
Parents.
Teachers.
Students.
And Kiran.
Standing there.
Alone.
My voice came out before I could stop it—
"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to like that—about my son?"I roared
Silence.
Complete.
Utter.
Shock spread across the room.
Kiran's eyes widened.
"J—"
I didn't let him speak.
I stepped forward.
Slow.
Controlled.
But every step carried weight.
"You don't get to stand here," I continued, my voice low but sharp.
"And talk about my son like he doesn't have anyone."
The woman stiffened.
"I was just—"
"No," I cut her off.
"You weren't."
My eyes didn't leave hers.
"If your child has a problem—teach your child first before questioning someone else's upbringing."
The room stayed silent.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Then—
I reached back and placed a hand on Kiran's shoulder.
Firm.
Protective.
"He's not alone," I said.
And this time—
my voice didn't shake.
It didn't rise either.
It just… cut through the noise.
"Who are you to talk to us like that?" another woman snapped.
The words barely reached me.
I let out a quiet breath… slow, measured.
"Me?" I asked softly.
A pause.
"Are you that dense?"
The air shifted.
Not loud.Not sudden.
But heavy.
Uncomfortable.
My gaze slid to Kiran for a second—just enough—before my hand tightened on his shoulder, steady, grounding.
When I looked back at them, there was nothing soft left in my eyes.
No hesitation.No warmth.
Just certainty.
"I'm his mother."
Silence.
It didn't fall.
It stopped everything.
No whispers.No movement.
Even the ones who were ready to argue—
froze.
Because it wasn't the words that hit them.
It was the way I said it—
like a warning.
Like a line no one should cross twice.
A few of them exchanged looks.
"You look young," someone muttered. "Maybe he was born out of—"
"Careful," I cut in.
Silence.
Sharp.
Uncomfortable.
I stepped forward slightly.
"Now tell me—why are all of you surrounding my son like this?"
"He bullied my child," one parent said quickly. "He punched him."
They pulled their child forward.
I looked.
Bruises.
Not severe.
But visible.
I turned to Kiran.
"What happened?" I asked quietly.
"They hit me first," he said, his voice tight.
"They said I don't have parents."
Something inside me went still.
Dangerously still.
"What the—" I stopped myself, my voice dropping instead.
"…Who said that?"
Kiran pointed.
I followed his finger.
For a second—
Everything went silent inside me.
I turned slightly and drove my fist into the wall beside me.
The sharp sound echoed through the room.
Gasps followed.
I didn't even feel the pain.
"How dare you say that to him?" I said, my voice low and steady.
"What are you doing?" one woman snapped. "You teach your kid to fight? You're even hitting things now!"
"I hit a wall," I said calmly, not looking at her.
"Control."
Then I lifted my gaze.
"And if my husband were here…" I added, my tone turning colder,
"you wouldn't be speaking like this."
Murmurs spread.
"Both parents are crazy," someone muttered."No wonder your kid is—"
My hand moved before I could think.
I stepped forward—
—but Kiran caught my wrist.
"No…" he said under his breath, a warning. A plea.
For a second, I stilled.
Then my gaze shifted.
I saw it.
The vase.
I picked it up—calmly.
Too calmly.
And threw it.
Not at her.
Beside her.
The crash ripped through the room—
glass shattering against the floor, sharp and violent.
She flinched.
Everyone did.
Silence followed instantly.
Heavy. Suffocating.
My hand dropped slowly to my side.
I took one step forward.
Then another.
"Finish that sentence," I said quietly.
Not loud.Not angry.
Worse.
"I dare you."
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Because now—
they understood.
This wasn't a scene.
It was a warning.
"So your child thought it was acceptable to question someone's family," I said.
No one answered.
"He defended himself," I continued. "That is not bullying."
"You're just taking his side," one woman argued.
"Of course I am," I said, without hesitation. "I'm his mother."
A pause.
Then I looked around the room.
At every adult standing there.
"And all of you," I added, "stood here and let this happen?"
That hit.
I could see it.
They didn't expect that.
"Instead of correcting your children," I continued, "you chose to blame mine."
"Watch your tone," someone said.
I smiled.
But there was nothing warm in it.
"No," I said quietly. "You should watch yours."
The room went silent again.
I turned toward the staff.
"I was told this school values discipline," I said.
"So tell me—does that apply only to students… or to parents as well?"
The staff exchanged uneasy glances.
"This issue needs to be addressed properly," I continued. "Because if my son is being targeted for something like this—"
I paused.
Then finished, clearly:
"—I will not let it go."
No shouting.
No chaos.
Just certainty.
The air turned thick.
Heavy.
"Let's not waste time on these people… let's file a case," one of the women said, pulling the other back.
I tilted my head.
Then I smiled.
Not wide.
Just enough.
"Oh?" I let out a soft laugh. "Finally… a brain cell showed up."
Kiran's grip on my wrist tightened slightly.
He knew that smile.
"Go ahead," I said, almost sweetly.
"File it."
I stepped forward—slow, almost curious.
Like I was watching something interesting unfold.
"I'll file one too," I added casually.
"For harassment."
I paused, tapping my finger lightly against my chin like I was thinking.
"For defamation…"
My eyes moved across each of them.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like I was memorizing faces.
"And I won't stop at just that."
Silence.
Complete.
I let it stretch.
Then my gaze dropped—to the kids.
A pause.
And then… their parents.
The shift was subtle.
But it landed.
"If anyone touches my child again…" I said, my voice almost gentle,"I won't be this nice."
No anger.
No raised tone.
That made it worse.
"Pray," I added softly, tilting my head just a little,"that his father never gets involved."
A faint smile touched my lips.
"Because then…" I paused.
"Our next meeting won't be in court."
My eyes held theirs.
"Maybe in a hospital."
No one spoke.
No one even breathed properly.
I turned, just as calmly, looking at the guidance office staff.
"I'm taking my son home."
I didn't wait for permission.
Didn't need it.
I turned back to Kiran, my hand finding his shoulder again—firm, grounding.
Everything about me softened.
"Come," I said quietly.
"Are you threatening us now? In front of the school?" someone snapped.
They still had the nerve.
I stopped.
Slowly—
I turned.
And I smiled.
Not angry.
Not loud.
Just… amused.
"Threatening?" I repeated softly.
A small shake of my head.
"No…"
I took a step toward them.
"I'm not threatening you."
Another step.
My eyes locked onto theirs—bright, unsettling.
"I'm informing you."
A pause.
Long enough to make them uncomfortable.
"To know who you're dealing with."
My smile widened just a fraction.
"Or…" I tilted my head, voice dropping into something almost playful—
"do you want me to show you what I'm really like?"
Silence.
No one answered.
Because suddenly—
that didn't sound like a question anymore.
This time—
No one tried to stop us.
I followed his finger.
Locked eyes with the boy.
Then with his parents.
When I spoke again—
My voice was calm.
Too calm.
"Jay"
Kiran's voice.
Soft.
Low.
Only for me.
His hand closed around my wrist again—stronger this time.
Not panicked.
Not harsh.
Just… certain.
"That's enough."
I didn't move at first.
Didn't look away from them.
For a second, it felt like I might say something else—
do something worse.
Then I exhaled.
Soft.
Almost bored.
"Fine," I murmured.
Like they weren't even worth it anymore.
Kiran gently pulled me back.
I let him.
The moment broke—
just like that.
But the silence didn't.
It followed us.
Clung to us.
No one tried to stop us this time.
No one said a word.
Because even as I turned away—
I could feel it.
Their eyes.
Their fear.
And the question they were too scared to ask.
What would have happened…
if he hadn't stopped me?