Two weeks. That was how long it had been since they returned from the coast. Two weeks of heavy oak doors closing behind Keifer early in the morning and opening late into the night.
At first, the return to the estate had felt like a fortress of safety. But slowly, the fortress had turned into an echo chamber.
Jay stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of the master suite, watching the rain streak down the glass. Down in the courtyard, the headlights of Keifer's car swept across the stone wall as he finally returned home, well past midnight. It was the same routine they had fallen into for fourteen days straight.
She heard the heavy front door click shut, followed by the low, muffled murmur of Keifer speaking with the security chief in the foyer. Then came the soft, deliberate footsteps climbing the grand staircase, careful and quiet so as not to wake the house.
When the bedroom door opened, Keifer slipped inside, loosening his tie. He looked exhausted, the sharp angles of his face etched with the unrelenting weight of the corporate boardrooms and the Watson legacy. He paused when he saw Jay sitting awake in the dark armchair.
"You're still up," Keifer said softly, his voice a tired rasp. He crossed the room and leaned down to press a quick, perfunctory kiss to the top of her head. "I told you not to wait up for me. The merger meetings are running long. I have to be back at the office by seven."
"I know," Jay replied quietly, her voice barely a whisper in the silent room. "I just... it's late."
"Yeah. Long day." He already had his suit jacket off, tossing it over the back of a chair, his mind already drifting to the stack of files waiting on his desk. He didn't notice the way her fingers clutched tightly at the fabric of her sleeve, nor the hollow look in her eyes. "How were Keira and Jayden today?"
"They're fine. They missed you."
"Tell them I'll make it up to them this weekend," Keifer murmured, heading straight for the adjoining bathroom without waiting for an answer. The click of the bathroom door closing sealed off the rest of the conversation.
Jay sat there in the dim light, a cold, familiar knot twisting in her chest.
She hadn't said anything to him. She hadn't complained about the empty nursery chair beside her during the endless 3 AM feedings, or the meals eaten alone at the grand dining table while her phone buzzed with notifications of Keifer's delayed flights and urgent board calls. She kept telling herself that he was doing it for them—that this was what protecting the family looked like.
But the warmth they had found back in the beach villa, the raw, unfiltered promise that they were a team against the world, felt like a lifetime ago.
She looked toward the bathroom door, listening to the sound of running water. Keifer was right there, just a few feet away, yet she had never felt more invisible. The fortress walls were back up, and somewhere between the corporate boardrooms and the safety of the estate, the gap between them had started to widen.
And for the first time since the twins were born, Jay kept it all to herself, burying the ache deep inside while the silence between them grew heavier by the day.