Jayjay's POV
The car finally slows.
I narrow my eyes at him."Mark Keifer Watson… if this is another one of your mysterious-business-meeting surprises—"
He stops the car.
I hear waves.
Actual waves.
My head turns slowly toward the windshield.
Blue.
Endless blue.
The sea stretches into the horizon, sunlight melting over it like gold spilled by accident.
"…a beach?" I whisper.
He leans back in his seat casually, like he didn't just rearrange my entire mood."You were overthinking."
I stare at him.
"You kidnapped a mafia queen… for therapy?"
"You needed it," he shrugs.
I open the door immediately and step out before my pride can stop me.
Wind hits my face.Salt air.Warm sand under my heels.
I laugh.
Actually laugh.
And I don't even realize it until Keifer freezes behind me.
I turn.
He's just… watching me.
Not smiling.Not teasing.
Just watching.
"Say something," I frown.
His voice is quieter than usual."I forgot you sound like that."
"Like what?"
"Happy."
My chest tightens.
I immediately throw sand at him.
"HEY—"
"You were getting emotional. I saved you."
"Jayjay Mariano—"
Another handful of sand.
He grabs my wrist and pulls me forward. I almost slip, and my hand lands on his shoulder to balance. For a second we're close enough that I can hear his breathing.
We both freeze.
Too close.
So I push him.
Straight into the water.
A full splash.
For one full second there is silence.
Then—
"YOU DID NOT JUST—"
He grabs my ankle.
I scream as he pulls me into the water with him.
Cold sea hits my dress and I gasp. He's laughing — actually laughing — and I haven't heard that sound since HVIS.
"You started it," he says.
"You dragged me into the ocean!"
"You attacked first."
"You deserved it!"
He flicks water at me.
I shove him again.
We end up soaked, arguing over nothing, and somehow sitting in the shallow water like two teenagers who never grew up.
After a moment, I sigh.
"…I missed this."
He doesn't answer immediately.
"I didn't," he says softly.
I look at him.
"Because I never stopped missing you."
I don't reply.
So I splash him again.
"Jay—!"
--------------------Sunset--------
We sit on the sand with takeout boxes he apparently prepared in advance.
"You planned this."
"Obviously."
"Psychopath."
"Romantic psychopath," he corrects.
I steal his fries.
"Thief."
"You fed me sandwater. We're even."
He hands me a bottle of water before I even ask.
He still remembers.
And that's the dangerous part.
Because my heart is starting to remember too.
Keifer's POV
The drive back is quieter.
She leans her head against the window, watching the city lights. Not asleep — just thinking.
And I know that look.
She only gets that quiet when she's scared of feeling something again.
I park at the Watson Mansion.
She steps out slowly.
The mansion feels different tonight.
Not empty.
Waiting.
The doors close behind us with a heavy sound that echoes through the halls. Marble, chandeliers, shadows stretching across the walls — this place has always been cold, but right now the air feels… tight.
Like the house itself knows what she is to me.
Jay stands in the center of the foyer, looking smaller than she ever has — not weak… just unguarded. The ocean wind has loosened strands of her hair around her face. Her dress still slightly damp at the hem.
And suddenly she isn't the queen.
She's just the girl I ruined.
I walk past her toward the study."I'll get you something warm."
I pour her warm tea — she always liked something warm after being near water.
She accepts it.
Our fingers brush.
She inhales sharply.
I step back immediately.
But she grabs my sleeve.
"Don't," she whispers.
I stop moving.
Her voice is trembling.
"…why did you really bring me here?"
Not angry.
Worse.
Quiet.
I turn slowly.
That one sentence does more damage to my self-control than anything tonight.
Inside, the mansion is silent. My brothers aren't home.
Only us.
And suddenly every sound feels louder.
Her heels on marble.My breathing.The distance between us.
I take her to our room
The doors shut behind us.
The echo feels louder than it should.
Jay doesn't move further inside. She just stands there, back to the door, like leaving again is still an option she's considering.
I lock it.
The click makes her look at me.
"You locked it."
"Yes."
"Why?"
I walk closer, slowly. Not cornering — but not giving her distance either.
"Because tonight you don't run from me."
Her jaw tightens."And what if I want to?"
My voice drops."You don't."
Her breathing changes. She notices it too.
"Keifer…"
I stop a step away. Close enough to see the tiny tremble in her lashes.
"You asked why I brought you here," I say quietly. "Because if I said everything in public… you would've hidden behind the queen again."
She swallows.
"You don't get to decide when I hide."
"No," I murmur, "but I know you."
Silence.
Then she says the thing she has been holding for years.
"You left me."
Not shouted.
Not angry.
Broken.
My hands clench.
"I pushed you away."
"Same thing."
"No," I step closer. "If I left, I would've lived peacefully."
Her eyes flicker.
"I didn't."
She looks at me carefully now.
"I watched every success of yours from a distance. Every interview. Every rumor. Every headline. I knew the day you moved to New York. I knew when you stopped sleeping properly. I knew when you built walls around yourself."
Her voice softens."You… kept watching me?"
"I never stopped."
Her defenses crack.
"You should have told me," she whispers.
"I couldn't risk them reaching you through me."
Her hands curl into my coat.
"You broke my heart to protect me."
"I broke it," I correct softly, "because losing you alive was better than burying you."
Her eyes shine.
"You decided that for me."
"Yes," I say. "And I'd do it again if it meant you stayed breathing."
That hits her.
She pushes me back slightly — not to escape.
Because she's overwhelmed.
"You don't get to love me like that after disappearing," she says, voice shaking. "You don't get to come back and act like you still own my heart."
I step forward again.
"I never owned it."
My hand lifts — slowly — giving her time to stop me.
She doesn't.
My fingers touch her cheek.
"You gave it to me."
Her eyes close.
That tiny reaction destroys whatever control I had left.
"Jay…"
Her hand grips my shirt.
"I tried to hate you," she whispers.
"Did it work?"
"…no."
My forehead touches hers.
For a moment neither of us breathes.
"You still react to me," I murmur.
"Because you're still the only person I never learned to live without."
That's it.
She pulls me closer first.
Not careful. Not controlled.
Years collapse into seconds.
I hold her — firm, protective — like letting go is no longer an option.
Her fingers clutch my collar.
"You ruined me," she says softly.
My voice turns rough.
"Then let me be the one who fixes you."
She shakes her head slightly.
"You don't fix me, Keifer."
Her hand slides into mine.
"You're the only place I stop pretending."
The distance disappears.
The air shifts — heavier, charged, dangerous.
I lean closer.
"Tell me to stop," I whisper.
She doesn't.
Instead she pulls me nearer.
That answer is louder than any words.
My control finally breaks.
I pull her into my arms and the world outside the room stops existing — no empires, no enemies, no past — just her hands gripping me like she's afraid I'll disappear again.
Her voice is barely audible:
"Don't leave this time."
My forehead rests against hers.
"I won't."
I lift her gently to carry her and I place her on the table, side to the bed .
She doesn't protest.
Her hand tightens in my shirt.
Her legs wrapping around my waist.
And as I settle her —
the thing she whispers is:
"Stay with me… tonight."