Keifer POV
She told me she forgave me, and god… I swear I'd take another bullet if it meant she kissed me like that again. Her lips were fire, her forgiveness a miracle, and for a moment I thought maybe the world had finally given me a break.
But of course, it didn't last long. Jay pulled back, her eyes narrowing, and shoved the medicine into my hand like a drill sergeant.
"Take it," she said firmly.
I groaned, staring at the pills. "You ruin every romantic moment."
She crossed her arms. "I keep you alive. That's better than romance."
Keth popped his head around the corner, grinning. "Papa, Mama's right. You gotta take it or you'll be weak forever."
I sighed, swallowing the medicine, then muttered, "You two are a nightmare."
Jay smirked, leaning closer. "A nightmare that loves you."
And damn it, she was right.
By the second day, Keth had decided he was my personal trainer.
He found a whistle somewhere — god knows where — and blew it every time I sat down.
"Papa, you need to walk! Doctor Keth says so!"
Jay groaned from the kitchen. "Doctor Keth is going to lose that whistle if he doesn't stop."
I laughed, even though my legs ached. "Fine, bud. Ten steps."
He counted loudly, cheering like I'd just won a marathon.
Jay leaned against the doorway, arms folded, but I saw the smile tugging at her lips.
For the first time in four years, I was happy.
Not the fake kind of happy I used to pretend with — the kind where you laugh just to hide the pain.
This was real.
Raw.
It was in Keth's voice, echoing through the hall like victory.
It was in Jay's eyes, soft but steady, watching me like she finally believed I could make it.
I stopped walking, catching my breath, and looked at them both.
Keth ran up, grabbing my hand. "Papa, you're strong again!"
Jay shook her head, smiling despite herself. "Not strong yet. But stronger."
I laughed, pulling them both close. "You two don't even realize… you're the reason I'm still here."
Jay's arms tightened around me, her voice low. "We know. And we're not letting you forget it."
Keth squeezed my hand, grinning. "Papa, you can't quit. You have to keep walking. Next time, we'll race!"
I groaned, chuckling. "Race? Bud, I'll lose."
Jay smirked. "Then you better keep practicing."
And right there, surrounded by their laughter, I realized something I hadn't felt in years:
I wasn't alone anymore. I wasn't broken beyond repair.
I was healing.
And for the first time in four years, I wanted tomorrow.
Day three Jay had me eating healthier.
No excuses, no shortcuts. She cooked, hovered, and glared every time I tried to sneak bread or coffee.
"Keifer," she warned, catching me mid‑reach.
I grinned. "Taste test."
She narrowed her eyes. "You're not dying on my watch. Sit down and eat properly."
Keth stuffed broccoli into his mouth, puffing his cheeks like a little soldier. "Papa, if I can eat it, you can eat it!"
I groaned, but obeyed. Because honestly, how could I argue with both of them?
By day four I managed to walk around the mansion without collapsing.
Keth clapped like I'd just climbed a mountain.
"Papa's strong again!" he shouted, running ahead of me.
Jay followed behind, steadying me when I stumbled.
"Don't push too hard," she said softly.
I looked at her, my chest tightening. "You're the reason I'm still standing."
She shook her head. "No. We're the reason. All three of us."
And for once, I didn't argue.
Day five Keth insisted we play board games.
He cheated every round, grinning proudly.
"Papa, you're too slow!" he teased.
Jay smacked his shoulder lightly. "Don't bully your father."
Keth gasped, clutching his shoulder like she'd just wounded him. "Mama! I wasn't bullying, I was motivating!"
I laughed, even as I lost again. "It's fine. He's right. I'm slow."
But the laughter filled the room, louder than the silence of sickness.
And I realized recovery wasn't just medicine — it was joy.
Day six I woke up feeling lighter.
My chest didn't ache as much, my steps were steadier.
Jay noticed first — she always did.
"You're recovering fast," she said, handing me my medicine.
I took it, then pulled her close, wrapping my arms around her waist. "Because you didn't let me give up."
She softened, her eyes warm. "Family doesn't give up on each other."
Keth barreled into us, hugging my leg. "And I helped too! Papa's better because of me!"
I laughed, ruffling his hair. "You're right, bud. You both saved me."
That night, lying in bed with Jay beside me and Keth snoring in his own room for once, I realized something.
Recovery wasn't just about medicine or rest.
It was about love.
About Jay's stubborn care, Keth's chaotic cheerleading, and the way they refused to let me face it alone.
One week.
One family.
One second chance.
I turned to Jay, whispering, "You're stuck with me now."
She smiled faintly. "Good. Because I'm not letting go."
And for the first time in years, I believed her.
I kissed her soft, and she kissed me back. For a moment, the world was quiet.
"So when are we gonna give Keth a sibling?" I asked, half‑teasing, half‑serious.
"Keifer," she said, punching my chest lightly, her cheeks flushed.
"What? Remember, he asked for one," I grinned.
She narrowed her eyes, but there was laughter hiding in them. "Maybe when you put a ring on my finger."
That hit me harder than any medicine ever could. I started to get up, determination burning through me.
"Where are you going?" she asked, grabbing my wrist.
"To buy a ring and put it around your finger and call you mine forever," I said without hesitation.
Her eyes widened, stunned, and for a second I thought she might scold me again. But instead, she smiled — soft, real, the kind of smile that made me believe in tomorrow.
"Keifer…" she whispered, her voice trembling just enough to tell me she meant it.
I pulled her close, wrapping my arms around her waist. "I'm not waiting anymore, Jay. You forgave me. You gave me a second chance. I'm not wasting it."
She rested her forehead against mine, her hands tightening around my neck. "Then don't just promise me forever. Prove it."
And in that moment, with her in my arms and Keth's laughter echoing faintly from the other room, I knew — this wasn't just recovery.
This was a rebirth.