happened quietly, Babe.
No sudden confession.
No dramatic turning point.
Just… permission.
The first time they sneaked out of a meeting, it wasn't even planned.
A long discussion.
Voices overlapping.
Another pointless argument between departments.
Jay leaned closer and whispered,
"If I stay here for five more minutes, I'll start disrespecting everyone."
Keifer didn't look at her.
"Back staircase. Now."
Her eyes widened.
"You're serious?"
He stood up calmly.
"Emergency call."
She followed him.
Heart racing.
Not because it was wrong…
…but because it felt right.
They didn't stop walking until they reached the quiet parking lot behind the west wing.
Jay laughed the moment the door shut behind them.
"You literally lied to your father."
Keifer unlocked his car.
"I redefined the word emergency."
That night turned into a drive.
No destination.
No agenda.
Just city lights sliding over the windshield.
Music low.
Windows open.
Jay rested her head back and sighed.
"I forgot how silence can feel… good."
Keifer glanced at her.
"You never let yourself be off."
She looked at him.
"Neither do you."
That became a habit.
Not official.
Never written.
Just—
If the meeting got too heavy…
One look.
One raised brow.
One quiet,
"Five minutes?"
And suddenly they were gone.
Sometimes it was a coffee shop that stayed open too late.
Sometimes it was a deserted highway outside the city.
Sometimes it was sitting on the hood of his car at midnight, sharing fries and complaints about powerful people who thought they owned the world.
Jay talked more.
About random things.
About stupid childhood rules her father made.
About how she hated big houses.
About how she liked night roads because no one expected anything from her there.
Keifer listened.
Always.
One night, during a long drive, she teased him softly.
"You know… for someone who owns half the city, you drive like you're escaping it."
He didn't deny it.
"I am."
She laughed.
"From what?"
He glanced at her.
Then back to the road.
"From being what everyone decided I'd be."
The silence that followed wasn't heavy.
It was understanding.
Soon—
They stopped calling it 'taking a break'.
It became—
"Are you free tonight?"
Not romantic.
Not labelled.
Just—
us time.
Late-night diners.
Unplanned movies.
Parking near the sea and watching nothing but waves and headlights.
Jay started sending him locations instead of messages.
He always came.
Sometimes, very late, when the city was quiet and her laughter softened into calm, Jay would realise—
She wasn't just surviving her life anymore.
She was enjoying it.
And somehow…
So was he.