JAY-JAY POV
My day started as usual.
Keth woke me up before the alarm, bouncing on the bed with his dinosaur toy clutched in one hand.
"Breakfast, Mama!" he shouted, like it was the most important mission in the world.
I laughed, even though my eyes were heavy.
Four years in, I'd learned that mornings with him were never quiet.
He wanted pancakes.
Then mangoes.
Then lollipops—because in his mind, candy counted as breakfast.
We settled for toast and eggs.
He sat at the table, swinging his legs, asking "why" about everything.
Why the sun was up?
Why the toaster made smoke?
Why lawyers had to wear suits?
I answered what I could.
Made up the rest.
Because sometimes being a mother meant inventing truths that kept the world gentle.
After breakfast, I packed my files for court.
Keth packed his crayons.
He insisted on carrying his own backpack, even though it was almost bigger than him.
It was ordinary.
Routine.
Safe.
But as I watched him scribble dinosaurs on scrap paper, I felt it again—
the shadow of Keifer in his eyes.
The reminder that no matter how much I tried to build a new life, the past was always waiting.
And today, for reasons I couldn't name, I had the feeling that ordinary wouldn't last
I was going to the café that was ten minutes from us.
It was routine.
Drop Keth at daycare.
Go to work.
Pick him up.
Then we create chaos together—dinosaurs on the living room floor, chocolate smudges on the couch, bedtime stories that never end when they're supposed to.
"Keth hon, please stay here. I will go order," I said, brushing his hair back from his forehead.
"Why?" he asked in his baby voice, eyes wide, clutching his little dinosaur like it was his shield.
I turned to him, crouching so we were eye-level. "Because it's crowded, and you might get lost," I explained gently.
He pouted, lips pressed tight. "Fine. But hurry up," he said, crossing his arms like a tiny grown-up.
He was in the car, humming to himself, probably imagining dinosaurs marching across the dashboard.
I slipped inside the café, ordered a coffee for myself and a hot chocolate for Keth.
He's obsessed with hot chocolate ever since Lily made him drink it.
Now it's a headache—every outing, every café, every grocery run, it's the first thing he asks for.
"I'd like the hot chocolate a little cooler," I explained to the barista, lowering my voice. "It's for a four-year-old."
They nodded, understanding immediately.
Luckily.
I exhaled, relieved.
Because the last thing I needed was Keth burning his tongue and crying in the backseat.
He was stubborn enough to demand another cup, and I was tired enough to give in.
I waited at the counter, tapping my fingers against the wood, trying to shake off the unease that had been following me all week.
The café was crowded, voices overlapping, laughter spilling across tables.
But beneath it all, I felt something shift.
Like the past was pressing closer.
Like the silence I'd built was about to break.
The barista called my name. "Japsher Jean."
Thank God it was early.
I was already running late—court files waiting, daycare pickup timed down to the minute.
I grabbed the coffee and the hot chocolate, careful with the lid.
eth would pout if it was too hot, and I didn't have the patience for tears today.
I turned toward the door, weaving through the crowd, my mind already on the clock.
But something felt off.
The air shifted.
Like eyes were on me.
Like the past was pressing against my back.
I didn't look up.
Didn't dare.
I just tightened my grip on the cups and pushed outside.
Keth was waiting in the car, tapping the window with his dinosaur toy.
I smiled at him, forcing my heartbeat to steady.
Routine.
Normal.
Safe.
But deep down, I knew— this morning wasn't ordinary anymore.
Not with my name echoing in a room full of voices I once called family.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Keifer POV
We all went back to the house.
The air was heavy, like everyone was holding their breath.
As soon as we stepped inside, I didn't waste time. "Rory, Edrix—track her car. See where she lives," I said.
"On it, Keif," they replied in unison, already pulling out laptops and phones, fingers flying across keyboards.
Yuri leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his voice low.
"Keifer… what if she hides again?"
I turned to him, jaw tight. "Well, we find her again," I said.
Simple.
Final.
Because I wasn't letting her slip away.
Not this time.
The room went quiet.
Everyone knew what was at stake.
It wasn't just about Jay—our sunshine, the girl who held us together when chaos threatened to tear us apart.
It was about the child too.
The one only Percy and her parents knew about.
The secret that hung between us like a storm cloud.
"Did you find her?" Aries asked, his voice sharp, impatient.
"Almost," Edrix muttered, eyes locked on his laptop screen, fingers flying across the keys.
"Well hurry up," Angelo snapped. "If she knows we found her, she might hide again."
The room went silent.
We all knew he was right.
Jay had always been good at disappearing—slipping through cracks, building walls no one could climb.
If she sensed us closing in, she'd vanish.
I clenched my fists, forcing my voice steady. "She won't get away. Not again. Not ever."
Rory glanced at me, worry flickering in his eyes. "Keif… what if she doesn't want to be found?"
I swallowed hard.
That was the question none of us wanted to face.
But I already knew my answer.
"Then we remind her," I said quietly. "Remind her she's ours. Remind her she's family. And remind her that I'm not leaving without her."
"Found it," they said in unison, high-fiving each other, grins breaking across their faces.
The room erupted—chairs scraping, voices rising, the tension snapping like a wire pulled too tight.
My heart slammed against my ribs. Four years of searching. Four years of silence. And now, finally, we had her.
"Where?" I demanded, stepping closer, my voice low but urgent.
Edrix spun the laptop around, the screen glowing with coordinates, addresses, numbers that meant everything.
Rory leaned back, smug, like he'd just cracked the code to the universe.
Aries exhaled, relief and disbelief tangled together.
Angelo muttered, "About damn time." Percy just stared, his smile gone, his eyes heavy with something I couldn't name.
"She's here," Edrix said, tapping the screen. "Massachusetts. Ten minutes from this café."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Everyone knew what it meant.
No more rumors.
No more ghosts.
Jay-Jay was real.
Alive.
Close enough to touch.
I clenched my fists, forcing the words out. "Then let's go."
Because I wasn't waiting another second. N
Not when my sunshine—and our child—were finally within reach.
"We should go tomorrow," Rory said, leaning back against the couch, his tone steady but firm.
"Why?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
"Because today is Friday," he explained. "She might be at work. Tomorrow is Saturday, which means she'll stay at her house."
The room went quiet.
Everyone knew he was right.
Jay was careful, always moving, always building routines that kept her hidden.
If we showed up today, we might miss her. But tomorrow… tomorrow there would be no escape.
Angelo crossed his arms, muttering, "I don't like waiting." Aries nodded, though his jaw was tight.
Even Percy looked uneasy, his hand resting on Honey's shoulder as if grounding himself.
I clenched my fists.
Waiting felt like torture.
Four years of searching, and now we had her address.
Her life.
Her trail.
But Rory was right.
If we wanted to see her—really see her—we had to be patient.
We had to strike when she couldn't slip away.
"Fine," I said at last, my voice low. "Tomorrow. First thing."
The silence that followed was heavy, charged with anticipation.
Because tomorrow wasn't just another day.
Tomorrow was the day we'd finally face Jay-Jay.
And the truth she'd been hiding all along.