Keifer didn't act immediately.
He waited two days.
Watched Jay move through the house like she was constantly listening for something. Watched how she paused before leaving rooms, how she checked her phone too often, how relief softened her face every time she realized he was nearby.
That was enough.
That evening, Keifer knocked once before stepping into Jay's father's study. The room smelled like old books and coffee, the windows open to the garden.
"I need to ask you something," Keifer said.
Jay's dad looked up, surprised. "Sure. What is it?"
"I want Jay's classroom shifted," Keifer said calmly. "Into my section."
There was a pause.
"Why?" her father asked, not unkindly—just curious.
Keifer didn't fidget. Didn't overexplain.
"She's not comfortable where she is," he said. "And she doesn't have to be."
Her father studied him for a long moment. Then nodded slowly.
"I'll ask her."
Jay was in her room when her father knocked.
"Yes?" she called, pulling her sweater tighter around herself.
He stepped in, closing the door behind him. "Keifer asked me something today."
Her heart stuttered. "What?"
"He wants your classroom shifted into his."
The words barely settled before she answered.
"Yes."
Instant. Certain.
Her father blinked. "You didn't even ask why."
Jay swallowed. Her voice was quiet but steady.
"I know why."
Another pause—longer this time.
"Is this what you want?" he asked gently.
Jay nodded. "Yes."
Not because she needed protection.
Not because she was weak.
But because with Keifer, she didn't feel like she had to be alert all the time.
Her father sighed softly, then smiled. "Alright. I'll make the arrangements."
When Keifer heard, he didn't react much. Just a slight release in his shoulders, like something had settled into place.
Jay found him later in the hallway.
"It's done," she said.
He nodded. "Okay."
That was it.
No big conversation.
No promises made.
But the next morning, when Jay walked into the classroom and saw his name on the same roster as hers, something loosened inside her chest.
She took the seat beside him without hesitation.
Keifer noticed.
Didn't comment.
Didn't tease.
He just shifted his chair slightly closer—enough.
Jay exhaled.
For the first time, she didn't scan the room for exits.
She didn't watch the door.
She didn't wonder who might walk in.
She just sat there.
Safe—not because someone had moved the world for her…
…but because someone had noticed she needed it to change—and acted.
And Jay realized, slowly and undeniably—
She trusted Keifer with her fear.
And that trust was becoming something dangerous.
Something warm.
Something she wasn't ready to name yet.