KEIFER POV
I stepped away from her, my hands still trembling. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the frantic pounding on the other side of the wood.
"Kuya! Open the door! Keifer, open this damn door right now!" Keiran was banging his fists against the mahogany, his voice high and cracked with a fear I had put there.
Jay-jay didn't say a word. She didn't even look at me. She stood up on shaky legs, her head bowed, and walked straight into the bathroom. I heard the water run—harsh and cold. I stood there like a statue, the weight of my own actions crushing the air out of my lungs. I had crossed a line. I had become the monster I always promised I wouldn't be.
Minutes later, she came back out. Her face was scrubbed clean, though her eyes were still slightly rimmed with red. She walked past me
As soon as the door swung open, Keiran and Keigan practically fell into the room.
"Ate! Are you okay? Did he—?" Keiran's voice died in his throat as he looked at her, then tried to peer past her at me. I kept my back turned, staring out the window, unable to face the judgment in my little brother's eyes.
"Ha! You guys totally fell for it!"
I froze. My heart, which had been sinking into my shoes, skipped a beat.
I slowly turned my head. Jay-jay was standing there, a wide, slightly manic grin on her face. She was even letting out a loud, boisterous laugh
"What the hell are you talking about?" Keigan asked, his voice flat with confusion. He looked from her flushed face to my rigid back.
"The prank! The 'Dramatic Jealous Husband' prank!" she said, slapping her knee and laughing even harder. She looked as if she hadn't just been sobbing on the floor two minutes ago. "We practiced it in the car! I told Keifer we should see if we could actually scare you guys. It's for my drama club at school! I needed to see if the 'fear' was realistic!"
Keiran blinked, his mouth falling open. "A prank? But… you were crying! We heard you! And Kuya yelled!"
"Method acting, Keiran! It's all about the Science of human emotion!" Jay-jay chirped, though I could hear the faint, microscopic tremor in her voice. She stepped forward and ruffled Keiran's hair. "Look at your faces! Pure horror! Ten out of ten, Watsons! You guys are so easy to trick."
Keigan narrowed his eyes, his gaze shifting to me. I didn't say a word. I couldn't. I just stood there, watching her protect me. After I had dragged her, yelled at her, and forced her into a kiss she didn't want... she was lying to my brothers to protect my reputation.
"That wasn't funny, Ate," Keiran muttered, though the tension was finally leaving his shoulders. "I almost had a heart attack."
"Yeah, yeah, go back downstairs," Jay-jay said, gently shooing them toward the door. "I need to give Keifer his Best Actor award"
Once they were finally out and the door was closed again, the laughter died instantly.
The silence returned, but this time it was different. It was heavy with a debt I knew I could never repay. Jay-jay didn't look at me. She just walked toward her bag, her shoulders slumped.
"Why did you do that?" I rasped, my voice barely a whisper.
She stopped, her back still to me.
"They look up to you, Keifer," she said, her voice small and devoid of the fake cheer from seconds ago. "I don't want them to see the version of you that I just saw."
She finally turned around, and the look in her eyes—the cold, distant disappointment—hurt worse than any physical blow.
"Don't touch me again," she said quietly. "Not like that. Never again."
I watched her walk to the bed and sit on the edge, as far away from me as possible.
"I'm sorry" I said to her she looked at me and didn't say anything and went to the bathroom
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JAY-JAY POV
I locked the bathroom door and leaned my forehead against the cool tiles. My heart was still hammering against my ribs, but it wasn't the good kind of kilig—the kind that makes your toes curl. It was the heavy, shaky kind.
I turned on the faucet, letting the water run loud so he wouldn't hear me if I made a sound. I looked at myself in the mirror. My lips were a little swollen, and my eyes were definitely puffy.
Gago. Truly.
How could he do that? One minute he's the sweet, sickly puppy I'm nursing back to health, and the next he's a literal mountain of jealousy dragging me around? He looked so scary. Like a stranger wearing my husband's face.
I splashed cold water on my face, over and over, trying to wash away the feeling of his hands pinning me to the door. I'm a teacher. I deal with rowdy teenagers and complex Science equations every day—I'm supposed to be the one in control. But with him? I feel like a chemical reaction that's gone completely wrong.
I stayed in there for a long time, just sitting on the edge of the tub. I wasn't even crying anymore; I was just... tired.
When I finally gathered enough courage to come out, I moved slowly. I opened the door and saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, his head down, looking like the weight of the whole Watson empire was crushing his shoulders.
"I'm sorry," he said again, his voice cracking.
I didn't say anything. What was I supposed to say? "It's okay, Watson, thanks for the heart attack?" No.
I just walked toward the bed, keeping as much distance as possible. I crawled under the covers on my side—the very edge, nearly falling off. I turned my back to him, pulling the duvet up to my chin like a shield.
The silence was even worse than the yelling. It felt like there was a giant wall made of ice between us, and even though he was just a few feet away, he felt miles across the ocean.
"Jay-jay..." he whispered into the dark.
"Don't, Keifer," I muttered, my voice sounding small even to my own ears. "Just... go to sleep."
I closed my eyes tight, trying to ignore the way my chest hurt. I wanted to be mad at him, but mostly, I was just sad. I wanted the Keifer who teased me about spiders back. I wanted the one who asked for extra gravy.
I didn't realize it until I felt the bed shift
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KEIFER POV
I heard her breathing go shallow and steady, but I knew she wasn't asleep. She was just avoiding me.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her flinch in the foyer. I heard the way she lied to my brothers—the way she sacrificed her own dignity and her own feelings just to protect the peace of this house.
I'm the one who's supposed to be the protector. I'm the one who makes sure my brothers have a stable life. But Jay-jay... she's the one who actually holds us together. And I just broke the most important part of her.
I stayed awake, staring at the moonlight hitting the curtains. I wanted to reach out. I wanted to apologize until my voice gave out. I wanted to tell her that seeing her with someone else makes me feel like I'm losing the only thing that actually matters in this mansion.
But I knew that if I touched her now, she'd probably jump. And that thought hurt more than any fever I'd ever had.
"Don't touch me again," she had said.
I gripped the edge of my pillow, my knuckles turning white.
"I'll make it up to you, Jay," I whispered so softly that only the shadows could hear. "Even if I have to buy every fried chicken wing in the city... I'll make you feel safe again."
But for now, I just lay there in the cold, realized that being a billionaire didn't mean anything if I couldn't even manage the heart of the girl lying two feet away from me.
I woke up before the sun even hit the windows. I lay there for a long time, watching the steady rise and fall of Jay-Jay's shoulders. She was still sleeping on the very edge of the mattress, a clear, silent border drawn between us.
My chest tightened. I needed to do something. I couldn't just sit in a boardroom today while she was still afraid of me.
I got ready, skipping the suit and opting for something casual. I wasn't going to the office. I had a much more difficult mission to accomplish.
I went down to the kitchen, and the staff immediately scurried into action like I was a general inspecting the troops.
"Morning, Sir! What would you like today? Omelets? Tapa? French toast?" the head maid asked, already grabbing a pan.
"Nothing. I'm making breakfast today. You guys can take the morning off," I said, rolling up my sleeves.
The kitchen went dead silent. The maids looked at each other, then back at me with wide, blinking eyes.
"But sir..." one of the younger girls started, her voice trembling slightly.
"But what?" I asked, my voice instinctively dropping into that cold, authoritative tone. I immediately winced—I needed to stop doing that.
"Ma'am Jay-Jay... she gave us very strict orders, Sir," she explained, clutching a spatula like a shield. "She said you're only supposed to drink soup. She said you weren't supposed to do anything active because your brain might 'overheat' again. She said if we let you out of bed, it's on our heads."
I almost felt a smile tugging at my lips despite the heavy mood. Typical Jay-Jay. Even when she's mad at me, she's still trying to manage my health like a classroom project.
"I'm fine now," I said, more gently this time. "Consider her orders overruled by the person paying the bills. Go on. I've got this."
They hesitated, but seeing the look in my eyes—the one that wasn't dangerous, just determined—they bowed and scurried out.
I stood alone in the massive, high-tech kitchen. I didn't know much about "home-cooked" style, but I knew what she liked. Comfort. Sugar. And probably enough calories to power a small city.
I started pulling ingredients out of the fridge. Bacon. Eggs. Pancake mix. And strawberries. I remember her mentioning she liked the ones dipped in chocolate.
I was in the middle of whisking the batter—trying to remember the "Science" of fluffiness she once ranted about—when I heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
My heart, usually as steady as a clock, skipped a beat.
it wasn't her. It was just Keiran and Keigan.
"Are you making breakfast?" Keiran asked, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the CEO of Watson Group wearing an apron and holding a whisk like it was a legal contract.
I nodded, focused on the pan. "I'm making pancakes," I said, flipping one with a practiced flick of the wrist.
"Sweet! I haven't had your pancakes in a while!" Keiran chirped, already pulling out a chair and sitting down at the kitchen island, looking like a hungry fledgling waiting for a worm.
"It's not for us, Keiran. It's for Jay," Keigan said, his voice flat as he leaned against the counter. He looked at me, his gaze still holding a trace of that sharp, watchful judgment from the night before.
"Ate Jay," I corrected him immediately, my voice firm.
"Same thing," Keigan said . "She said it's fine for us to just call her Jay sometimes! Besides, I'm only four years younger than her. We're practically in the same generation."
Keiran hopped up and tried to reach for the bowl of batter. "Here, let me help. You're putting too much butter in the pan, Kuya."
"I can do this by myself," I said, shifting my body to block his hand. This had to be perfect. Every bubble in the batter, every golden-brown edge—it was all part of the apology I didn't know how to put into words.
"Kuya, you're sick. Or at least, you were yesterday," Keigan said, stepping forward and taking the spatula out of my hand before I could protest. "Let me help. You look like you're about to pass out, and if you drop the pan, Ate Jay will kill us all for ruining the floor."
I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell them that I needed to do this alone to prove I could take care of her. But looking at my brothers—the way they were circling around me, trying to lighten the heavy air I had created—I realized they were trying to help me fix things, too.
"Fine," I grumbled, stepping back to let Keigan take over the stove. "But the chocolate-dipped strawberries are mine. I'm doing those."
"Fine, fine. Only the strawberries, Mr. Romantic," Keiran teased, though his smile was softer than usual.
We worked in a strange, rhythmic silence for a few minutes. Keigan handled the pancakes, Keiran started on the bacon, and I meticulously dipped strawberries into a bowl of melted dark chocolate. It was the first time in a long time that the three of us had been in the kitchen together without a maid in sight.
"Kuya?" Keiran asked quietly, his eyes fixed on the sizzling bacon.
"Hmm?"
"Are you guys... okay?"
I stopped, a half-dipped strawberry in my hand. I thought about the way she had flinched. The way she had lied for me. The ice-cold wall that was currently sitting between us in the master bedroom.
"I made a mistake, Keiran," I said, my voice low. "A big one."
"We know," Keigan muttered from the stove, not looking up. "We heard everything, Kuya. Even the parts that weren't for a prank.'"
I closed my eyes for a second, the guilt hitting me all over again. "I'm going to make it right."
"You better," Keigan said, finally looking at me. "Because if you lose her... I'm not sure who's going to keep this family from falling apart. Not even your billions can buy another Ate Jay."
I nodded slowly, carefully placing the last strawberry on a plate. He was right.
Just as I was about to reach for the tray to bring everything upstairs, we heard a soft, hesitant sound from the hallway.
Squish. Squish. Squish.
The sound of Jay-Jay's favorite oversized penguin slippers.
I froze, the tray in my hands suddenly feeling heavier than a skyscraper.
"Ate Jay!" Keiran called out, his voice instantly turning bright and cheery to mask the tension. "Come here! Look! The Watson Chef Academy is officially open for business!"
I turned around, my heart doing that chaotic, uneven thumping again.
There she was. Standing by the kitchen archway, wearing an oversized hoodie and her hair tied in a messy, lop-sided bun. She looked small, tired, and her eyes immediately landed on me—then moved quickly to the mountain of food on the counter.
"What's all this?" she asked, her voice sounding small and raspy.
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Hi guys!
Sorry I couldn't upload yesterday — I actually had the next chapter ready, but I got busy. I had to go to a friend's birthday, then me and my brother rearranged my whole room, AND I had a game (which we won, so yay 🎉⚽).
But here it is now!
Hope you guys enjoy the chapter 🤍📚✨