(Jay's POV)
He left.
Just like that.
And the room—
felt quieter.
Too quiet.
I looked at the book again.
Opened it.
Tried to read.
One line.
Then again.
And again.
But this time—
it didn't stick.
The words—
blurred slightly.
My head felt—
heavy.
Not painful.
Just—
full.
Like everything I studied was still moving inside.
Too much.
Too fast.
I blinked.
Tried again.
Focused.
But my eyes—
kept closing for a second longer than normal.
I shook my head slightly.
"No."
I whispered.
Pulled the book closer.
Tried to push through it.
Because stopping—
still felt wrong.
Like losing time.
But my body—
wasn't listening now.
My hand slowed.
The pen slipped slightly.
And before I could correct it—
I just—
leaned forward.
Rested my head on the table.
Just for a second.
Only a second.
Cold surface.
Quiet.
Still.
And for the first time—
everything stopped moving.
(Keifer's POV)
I was halfway through cooking—
when I looked out.
Just once.
Habit.
And there—
she was.
Head down.
On the table.
Not studying.
Not moving.
Just—
still.
I didn't move immediately.
Just watched.
Because I wanted to be sure.
Not assuming.
Not rushing.
But then—
she didn't lift her head.
Didn't reach for the book.
Didn't even shift.
And that—
was enough.
I turned off the stove.
Walked back slowly.
No noise.
No rush.
Reached the table.
Stood beside her.
Looked down.
Her hair slightly covering her face.
Her hand still near the book.
Pen loose in her fingers.
And her breathing—
slow.
Too slow for someone who said—
"I'm fine."
I leaned down slightly.
"Jay."
No response.
Of course.
I didn't wake her immediately.
Didn't need to.
Because this—
this was exactly what I was talking about.
And now—
she didn't even have the energy to argue.
I leaned a little closer.
Careful.
Not to startle her.
Not to rush her out of it.
Just enough—
to reach.
My fingers moved first.
Slow.
Brushing a few strands of hair away from her face.
Tucking them behind her ear.
Her skin—
warm.
Too warm.
I didn't like that.
"Jay…" I said softly.
No response.
Of course.
She was out.
Not deep sleep.
Just—
exhausted.
I lowered my voice even more.
Gentle.
Almost a whisper.
"Jay baby…"
That word always reached her.
Somewhere.
Even like this.
Her fingers twitched slightly.
Good.
I let my hand move to her head.
Rested it there.
Light.
Not forcing.
Just there.
"Hey…"
Still soft.
"Wake up, baby."
A small movement.
Her brows furrowed slightly.
Like she was trying to come back.
Slowly.
I didn't rush her.
Just stayed there.
Hand steady.
Voice calm.
"You're gonna get a headache like this."
A quiet pause.
Then—
her head shifted just a little.
Not fully lifting.
Just enough to show she heard me.
"Jay…" I murmured again.
This time—
my thumb brushed lightly near her temple.
Slow.
Grounding.
"I told you to slow down."
Not scolding.
Just stating.
Soft.
She let out a faint breath.
Almost like a sigh.
Then—
very slowly—
she lifted her head.
Not fully.
Just enough to rest it against my hand.
Eyes still half closed.
Heavy.
"…five minutes," she whispered.
Barely audible.
I almost smiled.
Even now.
Still bargaining.
"You already took more than that," I said quietly.
She didn't argue.
Didn't have the energy to.
Just blinked slowly.
Trying to focus.
I shifted slightly—
sat beside her instead of standing.
Closer.
So she didn't have to hold herself up properly.
"Sit up," I said gently.
She tried.
Slow.
Unsteady.
I helped without making it obvious.
One hand lightly on her arm—
guiding.
Not forcing.
She leaned back into the chair.
Eyes still not fully open.
Breathing uneven.
Tired.
Too tired.
"You didn't even realize when you fell asleep," I said.
No reply.
Just a small nod.
I watched her for a second.
Then reached for the water.
Held it near her.
"Drink."
She looked at it.
Then at me.
No argument this time.
She took it.
Drank slowly.
Like even that took effort.
I didn't look away.
Didn't stop watching.
Because this—
this is what happens when she pushes too far.
And still says—
"I'm fine."
I leaned back slightly.
Still close.
"Food's almost ready," I said.
She blinked again.
Trying to process.
"…you made it?"
"Yeah."
A pause.
Then—
a very small, tired smile.
Barely there.
But real.
"Good," she whispered.
Of course.
Even like this—
food matters.
I exhaled quietly.
Then looked at her again.
Properly.
"You're eating first," I said.
Not a question.
She didn't argue.
Didn't have the energy to.
Just nodded again.
Slow.
And this time—
I knew—
she wouldn't fight it.
Not tonight.
Because right now—
she was too tired to pretend anymore.
And I wasn't letting her push past this point again.