Jay‑Jay's POV
News travelled fast in our world, even when no one meant to spread it. By the next afternoon, Section E knew something was wrong — not because I told them, but because I hadn't said anything at all.
Rakki barged into the flat first, not even knocking properly. "Emergency bestie check," she announced, dropping a bag of snacks on the coffee table. Freya and Grace followed with takeout, eyes soft, worry written all over their faces.
Mica, who'd stayed glued to my side since Canary Wharf, crossed her arms. "We're staging an intervention," she said. "Emotional, not dramatic. Unless you want dramatic, then we can upgrade."
I sat curled up on the couch, knees to my chest, blanket around my shoulders. Keifer hovered in the kitchen, giving me space like we'd agreed, but never drifting too far.
"Guys, I'm fine," I said. It came out flat. No one bought it.
"Fine people don't text 'lol my mom appeared with Husband 5.0' and then go silent," Felix's voice crackled from the group call on Grace's phone. Calix's face popped up behind him, nodding. "Yeah. Spill."
They all settled around — on the floor, on chairs, against the walls — forming a messy, protective circle.
So I told them.
Not every detail, not every old scar, but enough: Canary Wharf, Curtis, the forced "Dad" thing, the almost‑hug, the punch, my mother's voice echoing down the street.
By the time I finished, the room was quiet in that heavy, electric way before a storm.
"That's so messed up," Freya said first, eyes blazing. "Who introduces a random man as 'Dad' like that?"
"Serial marrier behaviour," Grace muttered. "Yikes."
Rakki scooted closer, resting her chin on my knee. "You did the right thing walking away."
On the phone screen, Percy exploded. "You PUNCHED him? Iconic. But also, tell me where he works so I can 'accidentally' spill coffee on him next time I visit."
Even Yuri, who had been weirdly quiet on the far edge of the call, spoke up. "For what it's worth… you don't owe either of them anything. Not a hug. Not a name. Nothing."
It helped. Not magically, not completely, but it sanded down the sharpest edges.
Later, after the others had drifted out or logged off, leaving behind a battlefield of snack wrappers and empty cups, it was just me and Keifer on the couch. The rain tapped gently at the window, a quieter London than usual.
"Angelo replied," Keifer said softly, showing me his phone. "He said if your mom tries anything legal, emotional, or dramatic, he's ready. Lawyer on speed dial, receipts ready."
A breath I didn't know I'd been holding loosened. "Of course he did."
"And Serina says," he added, switching chats, "'My door is always open. For Jay, not for her.'"
That made me laugh, small but real. "I love your mom."
"She loves you more," he said. "Already threatened to block your mom's number if she ever gets it."
Silence settled again, but gentler this time. The kind that didn't choke.
"Can I ask you something?" Keifer said.
"Yeah?"
"If she shows up again," he said carefully, "what do you want to do? Not what you think you should. What you actually want."
I stared at my hands for a moment, thinking of all the times I'd wanted her to choose me and watched her choose someone else instead. Of the exhaustion. Of the way her voice still managed to crawl under my skin.
"I don't want to be her daughter on command," I said slowly. "I don't want to pretend Curtis is anything to me. I don't want to sit through another fake lunch where she plays perfect mom until the next man comes along."
"And what do you want?" he asked again, softer.
I looked up at him. At the boy who had carried me out of nightmares and into new cities. At the apartment that felt more like home than any house I grew up in. At the messy, loud, ridiculous family we'd built out of misfits and survivors.
"I want to build my own family," I said. "One that doesn't break every time someone gets bored. One that doesn't depend on whether my mom's latest man stays or goes."
Keifer's eyes softened. "You already are."
I swallowed around the lump in my throat. "Then I guess… if she shows up again, I'll listen once. On my terms. In public. With you or Angelo nearby. And if she tries to force Curtis into my life again…"
"We walk," he finished.
"We walk," I agreed.
He shifted closer, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his chest. I let my head drop against his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of detergent and something that was just him.
"Hey, Jay?" he murmured into my hair.
"Mm?"
"You know how you said earlier you wondered how many step‑siblings you have?"
I groaned. "Don't remind me."
He chuckled. "Just saying — blood or not, the only siblings that count are the ones who show up. You've got Aries. Percy. C‑in. Keiren. Keigan. Half of Section E at this point. That's already a full set."
A smile snuck out despite everything. "True."
"And one day," he added quietly, almost shy, "if we ever… you know… maybe have our own kids… they'll never have to question if they're being chosen."
My heart flipped and steadied all at once. "You planning that far ahead, ulupong?"
"Can't help it," he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "You're my forever problem."
I laughed, the sound surprising both of us. "You're mine too."
Outside, London pulsed on — Canary Wharf lights shining somewhere far away, where my mother walked with her latest "new beginning."
Inside, on an old couch in a too‑small flat, I made a quiet choice that felt bigger than any of her weddings ever had.
I couldn't choose the family I was born into.
But I could choose the one I stayed with.