JAY'S POV — WHEN THE DOOR CLOSES
The door clicks shut.
Soft.
Final.
That's when my legs give out.
I slide down against the wall like my bones forgot their job, palms pressed flat to the floor, breath tearing out of me in sharp, ugly gasps. I don't scream. I don't sob loud.
I break silently.
My chest hurts in a way no bullet ever caused. Like something is clawing outward, desperate to escape.
"I hate you," I whisper to the empty room.
Then—
"I love you."
The words collide inside me.
I curl inward, knees to my chest, forehead against them like I can fold myself small enough to disappear. My hands fist into the fabric of the hoodie I'm still wearing.
His hoodie.
I press it to my face.
That's when the sound escapes.
A broken, animal sob.
"I trusted you," I whisper. "I trusted you with my whole life."
Images crash into me without mercy.
Him smiling like the world was safe.
Him holding my hand like it was instinct.
Him looking at me like I was home.
Then—
Cold words.
Cruel distance.
I used you.
My stomach twists violently. I gag, barely making it to the bathroom before retching over nothing. There's nothing left in me to throw up except pain.
I sit there on the floor, shaking.
"They would've killed you."
The excuse echoes.
Maybe it's true.
Maybe it isn't.
But the damage is.
I press my forehead to the cool tile.
London taught me how to bleed quietly.
Tonight—
Manila teaches me that love is the most efficient weapon ever made.
---
DAMIAN FINDS OUT — AFTER THE DAMAGE
Damian knows something's wrong the second I don't answer his call.
He comes anyway.
Doesn't knock politely.
Doesn't joke.
He finds me sitting on the floor, back against the bed, eyes hollow, hoodie sleeves pulled over my hands like armor that failed.
He stops short.
"Jay…"
I don't look up.
"He came," I say.
Silence.
Then, quietly, dangerously calm:
"…Keifer."
I nod once.
Damian swears under his breath and crouches in front of me, eyes scanning me for wounds that aren't there.
"What did he do."
"What he should've done months ago," I whisper. "He told the truth."
That gets his attention.
I tell him.
Everything.
The elders.
The inheritance.
The blurred photo.
The protection.
The lie.
By the time I finish, Damian's jaw is clenched so hard a muscle jumps in his cheek.
"And he thought that justified it?" he asks.
I laugh weakly. "He thought it made him a hero."
Damian stands.
"I've had enough," he says flatly.
I grab his wrist. "Don't."
He looks down at me.
Not angry.
Protective.
"He broke you," he says. "And then had the audacity to call it love."
I don't answer.
Because some part of me still understands Keifer.
And that might be the cruelest part.
Damian gently removes my hand from his wrist.
"I'm going to class," he says.
I look up. "Damian—"
"He needs to hear this," he cuts in. "And I need to say it before I do something worse."
Then he leaves.
---
DAMIAN'S POV —
The classroom buzzes like nothing's wrong.
Like the world didn't just crack open someone's heart.
Keifer is there.
Sitting.
Alive.
That alone feels insulting.
I walk straight in.
No hesitation.
No warning.
Section E feels it immediately.
Keifer looks up.
Our eyes lock.
And something feral crosses his face.
"Where's Jay," he demands.
I laugh.
Not amused.
"You don't get to ask that anymore."
He stands. "What did you say to her."
I step closer.
"Nothing," I say. "You did all the damage yourself."
His hands curl into fists. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, I do," I snap. "Because unlike you—I stayed."
The room goes deathly quiet.
"You left her drowning," I continue. "Then came back when it was convenient for your conscience."
"You think I wanted this?" he growls. "You think I wanted to hurt her?"
"Yes," I say coldly. "Because you chose to."
His eyes flash. "I chose to keep her alive."
"And who made you God?" I shoot back.
He flinches.
"She knew," I continue. "She knew your fucking I'll make her fall in love then break her plan. The danger. The reason."
That surprises him.
"But here's the part you don't get," I say, voice sharpening.
"Somewhere in between the threats and the protection and the plans—she forgot everything."
His breath stutters.
"She forgot the plan," I continue. "Forgot the danger. Forgot the reasons."
I step closer, low enough only he can hear.
"And the first time—the only thing—Jay knew was how to love someone."
His face drains of color.
"That was you," I finish quietly. "And you crushed it."
Silence roars.
"You don't get forgiveness just because your intentions were good," I add. "Especially when your execution destroyed her."
I straighten.
"You wanted to be a shield," I say. "Congratulations."
"You became the weapon."
I turn to leave.
At the door, I stop.
"For what it's worth," I say without looking back, "she still loves you."
Then—
"And that's the part you don't deserve."
I walk out.
And behind me—
Keifer Watson stands in a room full of people
feeling more alone than he ever has in his life.
KEIFER AND JAY JAY----
It's raining again.
Manila has a cruel sense of timing.
Keifer doesn't remember how he gets there—only that his lungs are burning and his legs won't stop moving. He runs like something is chasing him, like if he slows down even for a second, whatever chance he has left will die.
Her building. Her floor. Her door.
He pounds on it.
Once. Twice. Again.
Not polite. Not controlled. Desperate.
"Jay," he chokes out, forehead dropping against the wood. "Please—open the door. Please."
Inside—
Jay is already on the floor.
Her back pressed to the door, hands covering her mouth to keep the sound in. Her shoulders shake violently, breath breaking apart in sobs she doesn't want anyone to hear.
The knock rattles her bones.
"Jay," his voice cracks again, louder now. "I know you're there. I know you can hear me."
She presses her forehead harder against the door.
Go away.
Please go away.
"I won't leave," Keifer says, voice hoarse. "I swear to God, I won't. You can call the guards. You can call Damian. You can call anyone—but I'm not leaving."
Silence.
Then—
A sound slips out of her before she can stop it.
A broken, aching sob.
Keifer freezes.
His hand lifts slowly, palm flattening against the door like he can feel her through it.
"That's you," he whispers. "That's my Jay."
Her breath stutters violently.
"I didn't come to fight," he says quickly, panic threading every word. "I didn't come to explain or justify or fix it—I just—"
His voice breaks.
"I can't lose you like this."
Jay slides down fully now, knees pulled to her chest, tears soaking into her sleeves.
"You already lost me," she whispers.
Her voice is soft.
But it destroys him.
"No," he says immediately. "No, don't say that. Don't say it like it's done."
He presses his forehead to the door harder, knuckles white.
"I know I don't deserve forgiveness," he says. "I know I don't deserve to touch you or look at you or even stand outside your door—but Jay, I will stay here. All night. All week. I don't care."
Her hands shake.
"You can scream at me," he continues. "You can tell me you hate me. You can tell me I ruined you. I'll take it. I deserve it."
A tear slips down her chin and drops onto the floor.
"But don't shut me out," he pleads. "Don't disappear from me. I've already lived that once and it almost killed me."
She squeezes her eyes shut.
"You should've let me choose," she cries suddenly, voice breaking free. "You should've trusted me enough to choose."
The words hit him like a bullet.
"I know," he sobs. "I know. God, I know."
His shoulders shake now. Full-body. Uncontrolled.
"I was scared," he admits. "I was a coward. I thought loving you meant protecting you from everything—including the truth. And I was wrong."
Jay presses her palm flat against the door.
Right where his hand is.
Neither of them realizes it at first.
They both freeze when they do.
Separated by inches. By wood. By everything they've done to each other.
"I still love you," he whispers, like a confession and a sin. "I don't know how to stop. I don't want to."
Her sob turns silent, breath hitching painfully.
"I hate that I still love you," she whispers back.
For a moment, the world holds its breath.
Then—
"Please open the door," he begs one last time. "Not because I deserve it. Because you do. Because you shouldn't have to cry alone."
Her hand trembles against the wood.
Her body leans forward.
And then—
She pulls away.
"No," she says, voice wrecked but firm. "If I open that door right now… I won't survive it."
His eyes squeeze shut.
"I'll be right here," he says. "I'm not going anywhere."
She curls in on herself again.
On one side of the door—
A girl who loved so deeply she had to become dangerous to survive.
On the other—
A boy who thought protection meant destruction and learned too late.
The rain keeps falling.
And the door stays closed.