KEIFER'S POV —
I shouldn't have gone in.
The moment I saw him touch her hand, I knew I shouldn't have crossed that street.
But my feet moved anyway.
Because jealousy doesn't shout when it's dangerous—
it whispers logic and calls it concern.
From the sidewalk, I watched through the glass.
The way she laughed.
The way she leaned in without thinking.
The way he looked at her like she was the center of whatever universe he'd built for himself.
That wasn't a stranger's familiarity.
That was history.
Cin muttered something behind me. Felix went dead silent. Rory shifted like he wanted to bolt. Edrix crossed his arms, eyes sharp.
None of them said it.
They didn't need to.
I felt it in my ribs—tight, deliberate, painful.
Then he held her hand.
Not gripping.
Not claiming.
Just… natural.
Like it was allowed.
Something ugly twisted in my chest. Not rage. Not fear.
Displacement.
I didn't belong in that picture, and my body knew it before my brain caught up.
That's when I stepped inside.
The air changed immediately.
Jay felt it—I saw it in the way her shoulders stilled before she even looked up.
That's the thing about her.
She always knows where I am.
I said her name. Calm. Neutral. Measured.
And she looked at me like nothing was wrong.
That hurt more than if she'd flinched.
The guy stood up. Offered his hand. Smiled like this was polite society and I wasn't standing there imagining every possible meaning behind his fingers on hers.
"Keifer," I said.
Short. Controlled.
"Percy," he replied.
The handshake was brief. Firm. Evaluating.
Not a threat.
Worse.
He wasn't intimidated.
He didn't need to be.
Jay said she was fine.
Said they were just catching up.
Her voice didn't lie.
Which somehow made it worse.
Because that meant whatever this was—it wasn't a mistake.
When Percy walked away, the guys rushed in like idiots, whispering too loud, staring too obviously.
I stayed quiet.
Watched Jay.
I searched her face for guilt. For hesitation. For anything that meant I was losing ground.
Instead, I found steadiness.
"Friend," she said. "Family."
The word landed clean.
No drama.
No over-explaining.
Something in my chest eased—just enough to breathe.
But the jealousy didn't leave.
It never does all at once.
I told the guys we were leaving.
Not angry.
Decided.
Outside, the night air hit like cold water.
I walked a few steps ahead of them, hands clenched in my jacket pockets, forcing my breathing to stay even.
Cin jogged to catch up. "You good?"
"Yes."
Felix frowned. "You sure?"
"Yes."
Rory opened his mouth, thought better of it. Edrix studied me like he was filing the moment away for later.
I didn't look back at the restaurant.
Didn't need to.
I could still see her in my head—smiling, relaxed, whole in a way I hadn't caused.
And that scared me.
Because wanting someone means wanting to be the reason they smile.
And tonight—
I wasn't.
I unlocked the car. Everyone piled in quietly. No music. No jokes.
The engine started. The streetlights blurred as I pulled away.
My grip tightened on the steering wheel.
I trusted her.
I did.
But trust doesn't cancel fear.
It just teaches you how to live with it.
I replayed everything in my head—the way she laughed, the way he leaned in, the way she didn't pull away.
Then I remembered the way she looked at me when I walked in.
Calm.
Present.
Unashamed.
That mattered.
Still—
I wasn't ready to ask questions.
Because the answers might force me to admit something I wasn't prepared to say out loud.
That I cared too much.
That losing her—even hypothetically—felt like losing gravity.
I drove in silence, jaw tight, heart loud, telling myself the same thing over and over—
You don't own her.
You don't control her.
You just stand where you're allowed and hope she chooses you anyway.
And somewhere behind that logic—
Jealousy waited.
Patient.
Watching.
Just like I was..
JAY'S POV —
By the time Percy finally shut up and collapsed face-first onto my couch, it was already past ten.
Jet lag had taken him out like a sniper.
I stood in the kitchen for a moment, staring at my phone.
No notifications.
I'd texted Keifer once.
Then twice.
Then—fine—four times.
Nothing.
I knew that silence.
Keifer didn't ignore people unless he was hurting or trying very hard not to show it.
And tonight?
Yeah. This was the second one.
I sighed, grabbed my keys, and glanced at Percy—already asleep, one arm flung dramatically over his face like he was auditioning for a tragic role.
"Don't steal my blanket," I muttered.
He snored in response.
Good enough.
The drive to Keifer's place was quiet. Manila at night always felt like it was holding secrets—streetlights humming, roads stretching just long enough for thoughts to catch up to you.
By the time I pulled into the driveway, I'd made my decision.
I wasn't letting this sit.
The housekeeper recognized me immediately.
"Oh—Miss Jay," she said, surprised but smiling. "Do you need—"
"Could you let me in?" I asked gently.
She nodded without hesitation. "Of course."
Inside, the house was dim and quiet. Calm in that heavy way that meant someone upstairs was anything but.
I took the stairs two at a time.
Halfway up, I nearly collided with Keigan.
He stopped short, blinking. "Ate Jay?"
"Hey," I said, lowering my voice. "Is Keifer—"
"In his room," Keigan answered immediately, then hesitated. His expression softened. "Not in a great mood."
I nodded.
I knew exactly what that meant.
"Be careful," he added gently.
I smiled, small but sure. "I will."
I walked the rest of the way slowly.
Keifer's door was at the end of the hall.
Closed.
Light spilling faintly from underneath.
I stopped in front of it, hand hovering for a second longer than necessary.
This wasn't about explanations.
It wasn't about proving anything.
It was about showing up.
I knocked once.
No answer.
I knocked again, softer. "Keifer?"
Silence.
Then footsteps.
The door opened just enough for me to see him.
Hair damp like he'd just showered—or maybe just needed something to keep his hands busy. Shirt loose. Jaw tight. Eyes dark and tired and very, very awake.
He froze when he saw me.
"What are you doing here?" he asked quietly.
I didn't flinch.
"You weren't answering," I said. "So I came."
His gaze dropped to my hand still curled near the doorframe. Then back to my face.
"You shouldn't have," he said.
"I know," I replied. "But I wanted to."
For a moment, he looked like he was deciding whether to shut the door or pull me in.
The tension was thick. Unsaid words pressed between us.
Finally, he stepped aside.
"Come in."
I did.
The door closed behind me with a soft click that sounded louder than it should've.
His room was dim, lit only by a lamp near the bed. Everything was neat—but untouched. Like he'd been pacing instead of resting.
I turned to face him.
He leaned against the door, arms crossed, every inch of him guarded.
"Are you mad at me?" I asked softly.