Jay had fully recovered now.
The weakness from before was gone, the discomfort had faded, and she was finally back to her usual self — sharp, focused, and stubborn as ever.
But Keifer… hadn't changed at all.
If anything, he had become more watchful.
Not loud about it.
Just present.
Always.
That morning, she walked into Watson Enterprises like nothing had happened.
Black heels. Neat hair. Calm expression.
Exactly how everyone was used to seeing her again.
But the difference was obvious.
No one stopped her.
No one questioned her.
No one even tried to approach casually.
Because they all remembered the same thing.
The conference.
The way Keifer had looked at her in front of everyone.
The way he had made it clear without raising his voice:
She wasn't "just" anything.
Jay noticed it immediately.
"Why is everyone behaving like I'm dangerous?" she muttered as she entered his cabin.
Keifer didn't look up from his documents. "You're not."
"Then why is the entire floor acting like I'll report them to you?"
That made him pause slightly.
He finally looked at her.
"They're not scared of you," he said calmly.
"Then what?"
"They're careful."
She sighed. "Because of you."
"Because of reality," he corrected.
She placed her files on his desk. "You know, ever since I came back, I feel like I need permission to breathe in this building."
He leaned back in his chair slightly.
"You don't."
"Then why does it feel like I do?"
A beat of silence.
He stood up.
Not rushed.
Not tense.
Just steady.
And walked toward her.
"When I made it clear at the conference," he said quietly, "it wasn't to change how you move here."
She raised an eyebrow. "Then what was it for?"
"To stop people from misunderstanding what already exists."
Her expression softened slightly.
"So nothing changed?"
"No."
He stopped right in front of her.
"You just stopped being invisible to people who were pretending not to see."
That made her quiet.
Because that was true.
She crossed her arms lightly. "Still feels like I'm being watched more now."
"You are."
"That's not comforting."
"It's necessary."
She rolled her eyes slightly. "You and your protective logic."
He tilted his head a little.
"It's not logic," he said. "It's preference."
That made her pause again.
"You're impossible," she muttered.
"And you still came back to work," he replied.
That small exchange made her lips twitch.
Then, softer—
"You didn't overdo it while I was recovering… did you?"
His gaze shifted slightly.
"No."
That was too quick.
Her eyes narrowed. "Keifer."
"…I managed."
She sighed. "That means you overdid it."
He didn't deny it this time.
Instead, he stepped slightly closer.
"You were asleep most of the time," he said quietly. "It was too quiet."
That softened her expression.
"…So you missed me?" she teased gently.
A pause.
Then, very calmly—
"Yes."
Simple.
Direct.
No embarrassment.
That caught her off guard more than anything dramatic ever could.
She looked away slightly, trying to hide her smile.
"You're getting worse," she muttered.
"I know."
Silence settled again.
Comfortable this time.
Then he added, a little softer:
"Don't disappear like that again."
Her voice dropped. "I didn't plan it."
"I know."
Another pause.
Then she looked back at him.
"I'm fine now."
His gaze stayed on her for a second longer than necessary.
"I can see that."
And for the first time since her recovery…
The air between them felt normal again.
Not tense.
Not worried.
Just them.