JAY JAY POV
School went as normal, but the place felt... empty. The atmospheric pressure of HVIS had officially dropped because the King of Assholes was missing.
It's been exactly one week since he left. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours of pure, unadulterated silence.
He didn't call me. Not once. No "You're mine" texts, no middle-of-the-night gravelly voice notes, not even a sticker on Viber.
Asshole.
I sat at my desk, staring at my Biology notes, but the diagrams of cell structures were starting to look like his messy handwriting. I poked my cheek with my pen, feeling that heavy, sinky sensation in my chest again.
"Three more weeks, Jay," I whispered to myself, tapping my fingers against the silver ring hidden under my collar. "Just twenty-one more days of not dealing with his megalomania. You should be celebrating. You should be throwing a party."
But my heart wasn't throwing a party. It was currently sitting in a corner, moping and eating imaginary comfort food.
The loud-mouthed chaos of Section E was still there, but even the boys seemed a bit subdued. Ci-N wasn't even fighting for my marshmallows today; he just sat there sighing, looking at Keifer's empty chair like it was a memorial.
"Jay-Jay... do you think Keifer found a hot British girl?" Ci-N asked suddenly, his voice small and full of genuine anxiety.
The pen in my hand snapped.
"If he did, I'll fly to London myself just to feed him to the sharks in the Thames," I hissed, my face heating up.
"There are no sharks in the Thames, Jay," Felix pointed out from the back, leaning in with a teasing grin. "But there is a very frustrated Mutya in Manila. You look like you're ready to punch the air."
"Shut up, Felix!" I snapped, burying my face in my hands.
I'm acting like a cliché.
"Ci-N, don't even start. Don't even say Keifer already has a hot British girl with him," Edrix chimed in, leaning over his desk with a grin that was far too wide.
My blood pressure spiked. "I will literally end both of you," I muttered, though I kept my face buried in my hands
Zane entered.
He didn't look rowdy like the others. He looked like he was on a mission, his sharp London eyes scanning the room until they locked onto me. I stiffened, my fingers curling into the edge of my desk.
"When will he leave?" Yuri asked quietly from across the aisle. He wasn't teasing; his eyes were full of a weird mix of concern and resignation.
I just shrugged, my throat feeling too tight to answer. Don't talk to me. Just don't talk to me, please, I begged silently.
But of course, the universe wasn't listening. Zane walked straight toward me, his expensive shoes clicking on the floor with a rhythm that made my heart stutter. He stopped right in front of my desk
"Watson left," he said.
His voice was smooth, stripped of any emotion except for a faint, jagged undercurrent of victory. I didn't look up, but I could feel the weight of his stare. In Section E, everyone was watching. Every breath was being cataloged by the boys.
"I know he left, Zane," I said, my voice sounding more like a frayed wire than I wanted it to. "He's handling business. In my city."
Zane let out a short, dry laugh—the kind that didn't reach his eyes. "He left you here alone, Jay. In a room full of guys who want to be him, and one guy who knows you're already mine."
My head snapped up then. "I am not your anything!" I hissed, my face heating up with a mix of fury and leftover London trauma. "I told you, I'm engaged. The ring is on my hand. Don't ever think for a second that his absence means your chance."
Zane leaned down, his hands flat on my desk, bringing his face inches from mine. "Engagement is just a word, Jay-Jay. Especially between kids who think they're playing house in a high school classroom. How many days has it been since he called? Three? Four?"
He paused, a dark smirk touching his lips when he saw the flicker of pain in my eyes.
"He's in London, Jay. Reality is hitting him. He's realizing that a messy, loud life here isn't what a Watson needs. He's probably forgotten about this little 'provincial' romance already."
"Shut up," I breathed.
"Is that why he hasn't called?" Zane whispered.
The room was so quiet I could hear the buzzing of the fluorescent lights. I looked at Zane—really looked at him—and for a second, I wasn't in Manila. I was back in that rainy garden in Camden, feeling small and trapped.
But then, I felt the weight of the silver ring against my chest.
"He hasn't called because he's busy being the man you'll never be," I said, my voice finding its London-bred steel. "And if you think a week of silence is enough to make me run back to a mistake like you, then you really are as stupid as Keifer says you are."
Just then, as if the universe finally decided to stop bullying me, my phone vibrated in my hand. The caller ID flashed that name—the only name that matters.
"See? He called me," I said, thrusting the screen toward Zane's face.
Zane rolled his eyes, his jaw tight with annoyance, but I didn't stay to watch his reaction. I practically sprinted out of the classroom, ignoring the chorus of "Ooyy! Si Watson!" that erupted from the rest of Section E.
I made it to the hallway, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it was actually painful. I slid the green button, pressing the phone to my ear with shaking fingers.
"Morning, Mr. Watson," I started, my voice a mix of relief and that sharp, defensive sass I usually used to hide how much I'd missed him. "Did you finally realize I was alive, or was the reception in Camden just too poor for your high standards?"
"Jay," Keifer cut in.
His voice didn't sound like him.
The usual arrogant, low-gravelly vibration was gone. It was flat. Tired. It sounded like he hadn't slept for a hundred years, and yet there was a jagged edge of urgency to it that made my blood run cold.
"Keifer? What's wrong?" I asked, my voice dropping. I moved further down the hall, away from the noise of the classroom. "Is it the inheritance? Is it your father?"
"I miss you," he murmured.
That was it. Just three words. But the way he said them—like he was a man drowning and my name was his only air—made my knees feel like they were made of cotton candy.
"Keifer, you're scaring me," I whispered, leaning my forehead against the cool institutional bricks of the hallway. "A week without a word, and now you're calling me like you're saying goodbye. What's happening in London?"
I heard a heavy, shaky exhale on the other end. "It's a mess, Jay-Jay. More than I thought. My father... he's playing games. Serious ones. I've been tied up in legalities and meetings since the second I landed. I haven't had a minute to breathe, let alone call you."
"Jare said you were staying with my parents," I said, searching for some sense of safety. "Are you okay? Is Papa taking care of you?"
"Yeah," he rasped, and I could almost picture him rubbing his face with his hand, looking out over the rainy streets of London. "But being in your house, in your old room... it's making it worse. I see the pictures on your wall. I smell the scent of you on the things you left behind. It's a literal torture chamber, Mrs. Watson."
"I miss you too, you idiot," I whispered, my voice cracked and thick with the kind of longing that shouldn't exist after only seven days.
The silence on the other end stretched for a heartbeat, and I could almost feel him leaning his head back against my old headboard, eyes closed, just listening to me breathe.
"Say it again," he rasped.
"What? That you're an idiot?" I tried for a laugh, but it came out as a shaky sob instead. "Because you are. One hundred percent"
"The other part," he murmured, his voice dropping into that low, possessive vibration that always made my heart do a frantic backflip. "Tell me again who you belong to."
I clutched the phone tighter, looking out at the HVIS courtyard where students were moving back and forth, completely unaware that my world was currently thousands of miles away in a rainy city.
"I'm yours, Keifer," I breathed, the words final and heavy. "Engaged, claimed, and currently being harassed by your future brother-in-law and a British guy with a very punchable face. So you better hurry up and finish those meetings before I lose my mind."
I heard him draw a sharp breath. The tired edge in his voice sharpened into something lethal. "Zane. Is he bothering you?"
"He's being a vulture," I muttered. "But don't worry. My right hook is still in perfect condition, and Jare is basically stalking him at this point to make sure he stays five feet away."
"Ten feet," Keifer growled. "If he gets closer than ten feet, Jay-Jay, I'll find a way to end this legal battle tonight and fly back just to break his other jaw."
I finally smiled, a real one that reached my eyes. There he was. The King of Assholes was back. "Just focus on the inheritance, Watson. Get what's yours. My parents are there to help you, and I'm right here, counting the minutes."
"I have to go," he said, his voice dropping into a soft, aching whisper. "My father's lawyers are at the door. I love you, Jay. Wait for me."
"Always," I promised.
The line went dead.
I stood there for a long time, staring at the screen until it went black. The weight in my chest hadn't disappeared, but the hollowness was gone, replaced by a steady, burning warmth.
I straightened my uniform, wiped the stray tear from my cheek, and turned back toward the classroom.
I walked back in with my chin held high. Zane was still at the back, watching me with that expectant, smug look, as if he expected me to come crawling back with news of a breakup. The rest of the Section E boys were leaning over their desks, practically vibrating with curiosity.
"Well?" Ci-N asked, his eyes wide. "Is he with a British girl? Is he coming back?"
I walked straight to my desk, sat down, and opened my
textbook to the exact page Sir Alvin was discussing. I looked Zane right in the eye and gave him a slow, pitying smile—the kind you give someone who has already lost the game but doesn't know it yet.
"He's staying in my room, in my house, with my father," I said, my voice echoing clearly through the quiet room. "And he says if anyone gets closer than ten feet, he's going to personally select their coffin."
The boys erupted.
"WOAAHHH!" "LODI talaga si Watson!" "Ten feet daw, Zane! Back up ka na!"
Zane's face went from pale to a dark, humiliated red. He snapped his textbook shut and looked away, his jaw tight.
I looked at Keifer's empty chair and felt a pang of longing, but for the first time in a week, I didn't feel lonely.
Twenty-one more days. Just five hundred and four hours.
I can do this, I thought, snapping off another piece of the gold-foil chocolate Keifer had left in my bag before he vanished.
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