°♡˖꒰Author's꒱˖♡° POV
Five days later, the pace of life had shifted completely.
Keifer was buried under endless work—calls, meetings, deadlines stacking on top of each other like a storm he couldn't step out of. His shoulders stayed tense, his eyes tired, and even when he sat still, his mind kept running.
Jay Jay noticed everything.
She didn't interrupt him when he worked. She didn't complain when he came home late. Instead, she quietly became his peace.
Every night, she would wait for him.
When he finally walked in, loosening his tie with a tired sigh, she would gently take it from his hands and set it aside. No words at first—just her soft presence.
"Sit," she would whisper, guiding him to the couch.
Her fingers would move to his shoulders, pressing gently, slowly easing the tight knots of stress. She learned exactly where he held tension, how much pressure he needed, when to be gentle and when to be firm.
Keifer would close his eyes almost instantly.
"Jay…" he'd murmur, voice heavy with exhaustion.
"I know," she'd reply softly.
Some nights, she fed him herself—small bites, patient, making sure he actually ate instead of rushing or skipping meals. If he tried to brush it off, she'd give him that quiet, stubborn look… and he'd give in.
When he got overwhelmed, when frustration started to take over, she didn't let him spiral.
She would step close, cup his face, and press a soft kiss to his forehead.
"Enough," she'd whisper. "You've done enough today."
And somehow… he believed her.
Sometimes he would just rest his head against her chest, arms loosely around her waist, like the world outside didn't exist anymore. She would run her fingers through his hair slowly, rhythmically, until his breathing steadied.
No rush. No pressure.
Just quiet.
"You take care of me too much," he said once, voice low.
Jay Jay smiled faintly, her fingers still moving through his hair.
"Someone has to," she replied. "You forget to."
On the hardest nights, when he couldn't relax at all, when his thoughts kept pulling him back, she stayed with him—talking softly, distracting him, grounding him.
Not because she had to.
Because she wanted to.
Because loving him meant making sure he didn't break himself trying to carry everything alone.
And slowly… day by day…
Keifer started coming home not just exhausted—
but knowing he would be okay.
Because she was there.
During those fourteen days, their "biology classes" became Keifer's ultimate stress relief. When the mental pressure peaked, Jay Jay would yield to him completely, letting him use her body as a grounding force to vent his frustration and tension.
The physical support was intense and restorative.
Tactile Relief Jay Jay would pull him into her core, letting the heavy, rhythmic friction of their bodies burn away his cognitive fatigue.
The "Keifer Spot" He would focus on their deepest points of connection, finding a primal release that quieted his racing mind better than sleep ever could.
She would hold his heavy, exhausted frame against her chest, massaging the knots in his back and neck until his breathing synchronized with hers.
For Jay Jay, it wasn't just about pleasure it was about being his biological anchor ,providing the raw, physical heat he needed to stay human amidst his cold, demanding work.
Before the tension reached its breaking point, their routine had been an exhausting cycle of work and intense physical release. When Keifer's mental fatigue became too much to bear, he would initiate their "biology practicals" as his only form of therapy, often twice in a single day. These sessions weren't quick;
they were grueling, two-hour marathons where he would lose himself in Jay Jay's body, using the raw friction and heat to drown out the noise of his research.
ᕙ༼Jay Jay's༽ᕗPOV
But today, even that wasn't enough.
I watched him from the doorway, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
For four days, the man I loved had been replaced by a ghost—a sharp, jagged version of Keifer who survived on caffeine and spite. I just wanted to save him from himself. I thought if I hid the laptop, he'd finally see me. He'd see the bed I'd made, the food I'd cooked, and finally sleep.
I was wrong.
"Where is it, Jay Jay?" His voice wasn't the "morning honey" I was used to. It was a low, dangerous growl that vibrated in the floorboards.
"Keifer, please... you're shaking. You need to eat something and—"
"I don't need a lecture on nutrition! I need my laptop!" He slammed his hand down on the mahogany desk, the sound echoing like a gunshot. I flinched, my shoulders hunching up toward my ears. He turned to face me, and for the first time, I was actually terrified. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw set so tight I thought his teeth might crack. He didn't look at me like his soul or his 'addiction.' He looked at me like I was a saboteur. An enemy.
"It's for your own good," I whispered, my voice trembling. "You're killing yourself over this presentation."
He took a step toward me, his stature looming, blocking out the light of the hallway. "My own good? You think you know what's best for me? You're a girl playing house, Jay Jay. That drive has months of research on it. If I miss this deadline, that 'forever' you keep talking about? It doesn't happen. Give. It. To. Me."
"No," I gasped, tears blurring my vision. "Not until you promise to rest."
"This isn't a game!" he roared, and the sheer volume of it made me stumble back. He kicked a chair out of his way, the wood screeching against the floor. He stepped into my personal space, his shadow swallowing me whole. He didn't touch me, but the air around him felt like a physical weight, cold and suffocating. "You're acting like a spoiled child. I have people counting on me, and you're here playing hide-and-seek because you want attention? Get it. Now. Or I swear to God, Jay Jay..."
He trailed off, his breath coming in ragged, angry hitches. He looked so disgusted with me, so full of venom, that I felt like I was physically shrinking. I'd never seen this Keifer—the one who could look at me with such cold, clinical hatred.
I felt the first tear track down my cheek, my legs feeling like lead. I was losing him, and not to work—I was losing him to a rage I didn't know how to fix.
I stood my ground, my small frame trembling as I blocked the path to the bedroom where I'd tucked the laptop under the mattress. I wanted to be his strength, but his screaming was like a physical assault, shredding my resolve.
"Get out of my way, Jay Jay!" he bellowed, his face flushed a terrifying shade of crimson. "You are sabotaging my career! Do you have any idea how much is at stake? Move, or I will move you!"
"I just... I want you to live, Keifer!" I sobbed, my hands covering my ears. But he didn't soften.
He stepped closer, his presence so volatile I felt like I was standing next to a ticking bomb. The man who had held me in the shower, who had spent hours lost in my body just a day ago, was gone. In his place was a stranger who looked at me with pure, unadulterated loathing.
"You're not a partner," he spat, his words cutting deeper than any blade. "You're a distraction. A mistake. If you don't give it back right now, we are done. I'll have you out of this house before the sun sets."
Mistake A distraction???
The threat broke me. My defiance evaporated into pure, cold terror. I stumbled into the bedroom, my movements frantic and clumsy. I pulled the laptop from its hiding spot and held it out with shaking hands, my head bowed so I wouldn't have to see the hate in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," I choked out, the words barely a whisper. "I'm so sorry, Keifer. I was just... I was worried."
He snatched the device from my hands without a word of thanks, his fingers grazing mine with a coldness that made me flinch. He didn't even look at me; he just turned back to his desk, already opening the lid as if I had ceased to exist.
"Get out," he muttered, his voice dropping to a flat, icy tone that was almost worse than the screaming. "Go to Fernandez's. I can't look at you right now. Just... go."
I didn't pack a bag. I didn't even grab a jacket. I just ran. I stumbled out of the house, the cool air hitting my tear-stained face, feeling the crushing weight of his rejection. As I drove toward Fernandez's house, my hands gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. I had tried to save him, but all I had done was turn myself into his enemy.