Chapter 16: Dinner and Dissonance
Jay's POV:
The dining room felt bigger tonight — not because of its size, but because of who sat across the table.
Ella and Kaiz were now living with us. Living. In the same mansion. The same walls that once echoed only Keifer's silence and my footsteps now carried the sound of her laughter and Kaiz's little voice.
Keifer said it was temporary. "They have nowhere to go," he told me this morning. "Kaiz doesn't deserve to suffer for our mistakes."
And as much as I wanted to argue, I couldn't. Because he was right — Kaiz was innocent.
But Ella… she was a different story.
Dinner was quiet, except for Kaiz's small giggles. Ella kept smiling that polite, fragile smile she wore like perfume. Her tone soft and sweet — too soft, too sweet — as if she were trying to rewrite her own history.
"This place hasn't changed," she said, glancing around. "Still so warm. So… you, Keifer."
I looked up from my plate. "And so his wife, Ella."
Her smile didn't falter. "Of course. You've done wonders with it, Jay."
I stabbed at my food harder than necessary.
Kaiz started babbling something about school, and Keifer leaned in to listen. The way he smiled at his son made something twist inside me — a mix of admiration and ache. He looked like a father. Like the man I'd fallen for when I didn't even want to.
But then Ella laughed, her hand resting too comfortably on her wine glass as she added softly,
"I'm glad you're both getting along again. I heard you two had a fight… because of me."
The fork froze in my hand.
I lifted my head, slow and deliberate. "Where did you hear that?"
Her expression softened — the picture of guiltless innocence. "Oh, Kaiz mentioned something he overheard. I just… felt bad, Jay. I never meant to come between you and Keifer."
I smiled, even though I wanted to throw the entire plate across the table.
"You didn't come between us, Ella. You just walked back in."
Keifer cleared his throat — sharp, warning — but I didn't care.
The rest of dinner passed in tense silence. Kaiz kept talking, Ella kept pretending, and Keifer kept trying to make everything look normal.
By the time I got up, my smile had cracked in half.
"I'll be upstairs," I said, my voice brittle.
Jay's POV (continued):
I sat by the window, watching the garden lights blur into the night. My chest ached from everything I hadn't said.
She was under our roof now. Her perfume lingered in the halls, her laughter in the kitchen, her history sitting right between us at dinner. And I was supposed to pretend it didn't bother me.
When the door opened, I didn't turn.
Keifer's quiet footsteps stopped behind me.
"You're angry," he said.
I let out a dry laugh. "No, Keifer. I'm thrilled your ex and her son are our new roommates."
"She and Kaiz have nowhere to go," he said softly. "It's just until she finds work again."
"She's found comfort here fast enough," I snapped. "She's playing the saint, and you don't even see it."
He exhaled sharply, rubbing his neck. "Jay…"
"What?" I turned, eyes sharp. "Do you think it's easy for me to sit there and pretend this doesn't hurt?"
He stepped closer. "Then don't pretend."
I frowned. "What?"
"Don't act like it doesn't matter to you." His eyes softened. "You're jealous."
"Jealous?" I scoffed, crossing my arms. "Of what? Her perfect little guilt trip at dinner?"
He smirked faintly, stepping closer again. "Exactly that."
"Keifer—"
He didn't let me finish. His hand came up, fingers brushing against my jaw like he was afraid I'd disappear.
"She's just Kaiz's mother," he said quietly. "But you… you're my wife. And I'm not letting you forget that."
I stared up at him, my pulse betraying me. "You can't fix this with words."
He tilted his head. "Then maybe this will do better."
And before I could breathe, his lips were on mine.
Soft. Slow. Unapologetic.
The anger in me cracked — not gone, but melting into something else entirely.
He pulled me closer, whispering against my lips,
"Don't ever think she could take your place."
My fingers curled into his shirt, holding on tighter than I meant to.
When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against mine.
"I hate you sometimes," I murmured.
He smiled faintly. "That's fine. As long as you don't stop loving me."
The words stayed in the air like a secret we were both too scared to admit.
That night, we didn't solve anything.
But for once, the silence between us wasn't a war — it was a truce.