JAY'S POV —
Night falls without asking permission.
The city outside my window glows the same way it always does — neon, careless, alive. Cars move. People laugh somewhere below. The world keeps going, unaware that something has finally ended inside me.
I sit on the edge of my bed.
Alone.
No Percy. No Damian. No voices trying to ground me. Just the soft hum of the city and the weight of everything I know now.
I replay it all.
The elders.
The Watson name.
Kaizer.
Blood paid for blood.
Power taken so it couldn't be used again.
Every enemy that once circled me is gone.
Not threatened. Not delayed.
Destroyed.
There is no one left who can reach me.
And for the first time, I let myself admit the rest of the truth.
There is no one left who can reach him either.
Keifer is safe.
Because I made it so.
The thought doesn't bring pride.
It brings clarity.
I've been telling myself a lie — that staying away was protection, that silence was mercy, that distance was love.
It isn't.
It's cowardice dressed as sacrifice.
I stand and walk to the window, pressing my palm against the cool glass. My reflection stares back at me — sharper than the girl I used to be, steadier than the woman who broke on the floor last night.
"I'm not ruining us anymore," I whisper to no one.
I didn't survive all of this to keep choosing fear.
If we were going to walk away from each other, it will be with the truth in his hands — not shadows, not half-answers, not lies meant to keep him breathing.
I pick up my phone.
My thumb hovers for a long moment over his name.
Keifer.
I expect my chest to tighten.
It doesn't.
It steadies.
I type.
Jay:
I wanna meet you.
The typing bubble appears instantly.
Gone just as fast.
Then—
Jay:
Our old spot. 5 a.m.
A pause.
Short.
Too short for hesitation.
Then his reply lights up my screen.
Keifer:
Okay. I'll be there.
No questions.
No bargaining.
No fear.
Just trust.
I lock my phone and set it face down on the bed.
Outside, the city keeps glowing.
Inside, I lie back and close my eyes.
Not to sleep.
Just to breathe.
Tomorrow, the last lie ends.
Tomorrow, I stop protecting him from me.
And let him decide
what loving me really costs.
KEIFER'S POV — 4:12 A.M.
The phone lights up.
I don't even have to read the name.
I already know.
My breath stutters when I see it anyway.
Jay.
For a second, I just stare. Like if I blink, it'll disappear. Like this is my mind being cruel again.
Then I read the message.
I wanna meet you.
Our old spot. 5 a.m.
My hands start shaking.
I sit up so fast the room spins, heart slamming into my ribs like it's trying to get out first.
"Oh—" I whisper, voice breaking. "Thank God."
I don't mean it metaphorically.
I mean it like a prayer ripped straight out of my chest.
She didn't shut the door forever.
She didn't erase me.
She's giving me a chance.
I type back immediately, fingers clumsy, terrified of the silence.
Okay. I'll be there.
The moment it sends, I lock the phone like it might burn me.
Then I look at the time.
4:12 a.m.
Forty-eight minutes.
I start counting.
Not because I don't know how long that is—
But because counting is the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
Forty-eight minutes until I see her.
Forty-seven minutes until maybe I breathe again.
Forty-six minutes until I find out if love survives truth.
I don't lie back down.
I just sit there in the dark, eyes fixed on the clock,
Counting every second like it's a heartbeat.
Like if I stop—
I'll lose her again....
— THE OLD SPOT
I reach the park before the sky fully decides what it wants to be.
Dawn hangs uncertain — not night, not morning. The air is cool, damp with leftover rain, carrying that familiar smell of wet grass and metal benches and memories that never learned how to leave.
Our spot looks the same.
The same quiet corner.
The same worn path.
The same old table tucked beneath the trees like it's been keeping secrets for us all this time.
I stand there, hands in my pockets, heart beating too loud in my ears.
She asked me to come at five.
I came earlier.
Of course I did.
I don't sit at first. I pace once, then stop. I look at the path she always used to take, like my eyes might summon her faster if I stare hard enough.
Then—
I see her.
Jay.
Walking toward me through the thin morning fog like the world parting just enough to let her through.
Her hair is tied up in a neat bun, exposing the line of her neck. She looks… fresh. Awake. Like she didn't spend the night breaking herself open. Like she chose clarity over collapse.
It almost hurts.
She's wearing something simple. Dark. Clean lines. No armor, no softness — just herself.
My chest tightens.
She doesn't rush.
She doesn't hesitate either.
She walks like someone who already made her decision and isn't afraid of where it leads.
When she reaches me, neither of us speaks.
For a second, I forget how.
Then she gestures toward the table nearby, and we sit across from each other — the space between us small, deliberate, loaded.
I open my mouth.
So many things fight to come out at once.
Her name.
An apology.
A thank you.
A confession.
A plea.
But before I can say a word—
She lifts her eyes to mine.
Steady. Clear. Devastatingly calm.
"Keifer," she says softly.
My heart stops listening to reason.
"There are things you should know about me."