(Keifer's POV)
I didn't speak.
Not immediately.
Just drove.
Let the words settle.
"I want to keep up with you."
That wasn't what I expected.
Not exactly.
I glanced at her.
She wasn't looking at me now.
Looking ahead.
But not really seeing anything.
Thinking.
Too much.
Of course.
"You're not in a race," I said finally.
She shook her head.
"It feels like one."
"It's not."
"It is for me."
I exhaled.
Short.
Controlled.
"That's your problem."
She turned to me immediately.
"What?"
"You turned it into something it's not."
"I didn't—"
"You did."
Silence.
She didn't argue right away.
Good.
"Keeping up with me isn't a requirement," I continued.
"I know."
"Then act like it."
"I am."
"No, you're not."
She looked away again.
Frustrated now.
Good.
At least she was reacting.
"I just don't want to be left behind," she said quietly.
That—
was different.
I slowed the car slightly.
Looked at her properly this time.
"You think I'm leaving you?"
"No."
"Then what are you doing?"
She didn't answer.
Because she didn't have one.
I looked back at the road.
"You're not behind," I said.
"You're just making it harder for yourself."
Silence.
Then—
"…I'm thinking of taking law."
That got my attention.
I glanced at her.
"Because you want to?"
A pause.
"…because I need to be good enough."
Wrong answer.
I didn't say it immediately.
Just let it sit.
Because if she believed that—
this wasn't going to stop.
And I could already see it—
where this was going.
Late nights.
Skipped meals.
Pushing too far.
Too fast.
For the wrong reason.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel slightly.
"Don't choose something just to prove a point."
"I'm not."
"You are."
She didn't reply.
And that silence—
said enough.
Because she wasn't doing this for herself.
She was doing it—
to keep up.
And that—
was going to break her.
If I didn't stop it.
By the time we reached—
the house was quiet.
Too quiet.
No noise.
No chaos.
No Cin.
No one.
Just us.
The door closed behind us with a soft sound.
And that was it.
Silence settled instantly.
She didn't stop.
Not even for a second.
Walked straight in—
dropped her bag near the couch—
sat at the table—
pulled her book out—
and started reading.
No pause.
No break.
Like the exam never ended.
Like she was still inside that classroom.
I stood there for a second.
Watching.
Then moved.
Dropped my own bag.
Took out my notes.
Sat across from her.
Same table.
Facing her.
Close enough to notice everything.
Far enough to let her think she had space.
I opened my book.
Started studying.
Normal.
Steady.
Focused.
Not rushing.
Not dragging.
That's how it should be.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
Pages turned.
Pens moved.
The only sound in the room.
And her—
she was too fast.
Page after page.
Highlighting lines—
almost every line.
Which meant—
she wasn't filtering anything.
Her pen moved quickly—
but not cleanly.
Her handwriting—
slightly uneven now.
Her focus—
forced.
Wrong.
I didn't say anything immediately.
Let it go for a while.
Watched.
Measured.
She didn't stop once.
Not to drink.
Not to think.
Not to rest.
Just—
kept going.
"Jay."
No response.
Of course.
"Jay."
Still nothing.
I reached forward—
closed her book.
She looked up instantly.
"What are you doing?"
"Pause."
"I don't need a pause."
"You do."
"I don't."
"You're not even reading properly anymore."
"I am."
"You're rushing."
"I'm not."
"You are."
She tried to open the book again.
I held it.
"Five minutes."
"No."
"Five."
"No."
I looked at her.
Properly.
Flat.
She stared back.
Stubborn.
Then—
she looked away first.
"…fine."
I let go.
She didn't touch the book immediately.
Good.
Small progress.
I pushed the water bottle toward her.
"Drink."
She didn't argue this time.
Just took it.
Drank.
Slow.
But enough.
I leaned back slightly.
Still watching her.
She wasn't calm.
Not even close.
Her fingers tapped lightly on the table.
Her eyes—
still scanning the page in her head.
Even without the book open.
"You're thinking again," I said.
"I'm not."
"You are."
Silence.
She didn't deny it again.
Because she couldn't.
I exhaled.
Slow.
Controlled.
"This isn't how you study."
"It works."
"It doesn't."
"It does for me."
"No," I said, "it exhausts you."
"I'll manage."
"You're not managing."
Her jaw tightened.
She looked away.
And that—
was answer enough.
(Jay's POV)
He closed my book.
Again.
And I hated it.
Not because he was wrong—
but because he was right.
And I didn't have time to be right.
I had to be better.
Faster.
Ahead.
I looked at the table.
My notes.
Chapters left.
Time running.
Too fast.
"Five minutes," he said.
I nodded.
But my mind—
was still moving.
Still reading.
Still solving.
Still not stopping.
Because if I stopped—
even for a second—
it felt like everything would fall apart.
Like I would fall behind.
And I couldn't.
Not when he was—
so sure.
So clear.
So ahead.
"I just need to keep up," I said quietly.
He didn't reply immediately.
I looked up.
He was already looking at me.
That same expression.
Sharp.
Focused.
Not soft.
"Keep up with what?" he asked.
"With you."
There.
Again.
Clear.
Honest.
And this time—
I didn't look away.
Because I meant it.
Every word.
"I don't want to be behind," I added.
Silence.
Heavy.
But not loud.
Just—
there.
And I knew—
this wasn't over.
Not even close.
Because whatever this was—
it was only getting worse.