JAY'S POV — WHEN THE QUESTION FINALLY LANDS
The room was too quiet after everyone left.
Not peaceful. Just… hollow.
The machines kept breathing for me. The clock on the wall ticked too loud. My body ached in places I didn't want to think about yet.
I was staring at the ceiling when the door opened again.
I expected a nurse.
Instead—
Damian.
And David.
I blinked slowly. "You guys got lost? Visiting hours are over."
David closed the door gently behind them. "We talked our way in."
Damian crossed his arms, leaning against the wall like he'd been holding something back all night.
"How are you?" he asked.
I shrugged carefully. "Stabbed. Drugged. Mildly dramatic week."
David snorted despite himself. Damian didn't smile.
They both stepped closer.
There was a look on their faces I hadn't seen before—not panic, not humor.
Concern. And something heavier.
Damian broke first.
"Why, Jay?" he asked.
I frowned. "Why… what?"
He pushed off the wall. "Why did you do that?"
Silence stretched.
"You stepped in front of a knife," he said, voice rising just a little. "For him."
David stayed quiet, watching me carefully.
"I didn't think," I said.
"That's not true," Damian snapped. "You always think."
I opened my mouth to argue—then stopped.
Because he was right.
Damian ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "You barely remember the party that YOU think didn't end in something.....
You didn't even know what mess you were walking into today. And still—you chose him."
I swallowed.
"Do you love Keifer?" Damian asked bluntly.
The word hit harder than the knife had.
Love.
David's head snapped toward him. "Damian—"
"No," Damian said. "She deserves to answer."
They both looked at me now.
Waiting.
The machines hummed. My heartbeat matched them.
"I don't know," I said honestly.
Damian scoffed. "That's not—"
"Let her finish," David said sharply.
I exhaled slowly.
"I don't know when," I continued. "Or how. Or why someone like him got under my skin."
I stared at my hands, pale against white sheets.
"But somewhere between watching him pretend he didn't care… and realizing he'd burn the world without hesitation—"
My voice cracked.
"I fell."
The word felt terrifying. And true.
Silence.
Damian looked away first.
"You know he had a plan," he said quietly. "You know Section E isn't clean. That this isn't over."
"I know," I said.
"You could get hurt again."
"I know."
"You could lose everything."
I lifted my gaze.
"So could he."
David stepped forward then, resting a hand on the foot of the bed. "So what now?"
The question hung there.
What now?
I thought of Keifer sitting alone in the hallway. Of how he wouldn't look at me. Of how he carried guilt like a second spine.
"I heal," I said finally. "Physically first."
They nodded.
"Then," I continued, voice steadier, "I figure out what this means on my terms. Not Ram's. Not fear's. Not guilt's."
Damian studied me. "And Keifer?"
I didn't answer immediately.
"Keifer doesn't get punished for saving me," I said softly. "And he doesn't get rewarded either."
David raised an eyebrow.
"He gets honesty," I finished. "When I'm strong enough to give it."
Damian sighed, long and tired. "You're really in this."
"Yes," I said.
Not reckless. Not blind.
Just certain.
David smiled faintly. "He's screwed."
I huffed a quiet laugh that hurt my ribs.
Damian moved toward the door. "Get some rest, Jay."
He paused.
"For what it's worth," he added, without turning, "if you're choosing him… make him earn you."
"I will," I said.
They left.
The door closed softly behind them.
I lay back against the pillows, heart racing now for an entirely different reason.
Because loving Keifer wasn't the dangerous part.
The dangerous part was what came after—
When he finally realized I wasn't a weakness.
I was a choice.
And choices change wars...
JAY'S POV — WHEN THE WORLD SOFTENS
The next two days were quiet in their own chaotic way.
Nurses moved in and out, checking vitals and changing bandages. Section E didn't leave. Not even for a minute.
Cin fussed over every meal, insisting I eat "like a proper human," while Yuri triple-checked my medications, glaring at anyone who looked at the labels wrong.
Felix brought dumb stories and ridiculous jokes, dragging me into laughter I didn't know I had left in me. David adjusted pillows, blankets, and anything he could get his hands on, quietly watching over me.
And Keifer…
He didn't hover. Didn't fuss. Didn't speak more than necessary.
But he stayed nearby. His presence was a quiet gravity—strong, unyielding. I noticed every time he leaned slightly closer to check if
I was comfortable, every time he flinched at a sudden movement, every glance that darted to me and lingered just long enough to matter.
Somehow, in the middle of all this chaos, I healed.
Not perfectly. Not without pain. But enough to breathe again without thinking about the knife every second.
Enough to laugh when Felix told a ridiculous story about himself falling off a chair. Enough to lie back against the pillows and feel safe.
By the third day, the nurses allowed discharge. My body protested in stiff, sore protests, but the relief of leaving the hospital was sweeter than I expected.
Back in my room at home, the world felt quieter, softer.
I sat on my bed, bandages hidden beneath long sleeves.
My fingers traced the faint bruises along my arms, the lingering aches in my ribs.
I thought of Section E—how each of them had hovered, protected, entertained, worried. How Keifer had carried the weight of my life like it was his own.
And then my mind lingered on him.
Not the bruises or the chaos. Not the knife, the warehouse, or the fear.
Him.
The way he moved when danger was near. The way he looked at me when I was too weak to see myself clearly. The quiet fury that roared when I was in pain. The unshakable certainty that he would carry me through anything.
I realized something that scared me more than anything else I'd faced in the last week.
I had fallen for him.
Fallen, completely. Not in flashes, not in moments of adrenaline. But slowly, insidiously, until every thought of danger, every memory of him holding me, every silent reassurance—had lodged itself in my heart.
And the truth was terrifying.
Because loving Keifer wasn't just about feelings. It was about war, about chaos, about everything that came with him. But I didn't care.
I wanted him.
All of him.
Even if it meant risking everything.
I leaned back against the headboard, eyes closing. My heartbeat was steady but insistent, carrying a truth I hadn't dared to speak aloud yet.
I had fallen.
I had fallen for the one man I sworned I would never.
I had fallen for Mark Keifer Watson...
And there was no going back...
---
KEIFER'S POV — WHEN QUIET HURTS
The hospital was chaos until it wasn't.
By the time Jay was cleared for discharge, I'd been hovering for days. Not hovering, exactly—I'd just been… present. Watching. Making sure she ate, slept, breathed. Making sure the world hadn't touched her too hard after the knife, after Ram, after me dragging her into my war.
Cin fussed over her like she was a queen, arguing with the nurses about meal portions. Yuri checked her vitals twice, muttering numbers I didn't need but appreciated anyway. Felix kept her laughing with stories so ridiculous they barely made sense. Rory and David adjusted pillows, rearranged blankets, whispered advice. Edrix monitored every signal, every beep, every flicker of the monitors that kept her alive.
I watched all of them work, all of them trying to fill the space of a week's terror with something lighter. And I realized… I didn't just need to watch her survive. I needed to watch her live.
I drove us home. The streets blurred past. Her head leaned against the seat, fragile and pale, but alive. She murmured softly, half-asleep, trusting me enough to let go. I resisted the urge to check every bruise, every bandage, every mark—because she needed to rest, not me panicking.
When we reached her house, I helped her inside. Cin and Yuri made themselves useful, carrying a bag of things, checking rooms, fussing over pillows and blankets. I stayed close, silent, protective. I watched her settle into her bed, adjusting her blankets herself, the way she always tried to take care of others even when she was the one bleeding.
And then I left.
Her eyes followed me out. She didn't speak. She didn't need to. I felt her trust in the air like a weight I couldn't shrug off.
---
By the time I closed my own door, everything hit me.
The quiet of my room was suffocating. No monitors, no laughter, no chaos. Just me. And the memory of her—her voice, her hands, the way she'd pressed herself against me instinctively, her bravery, her light, the way she'd stepped in front of the knife without hesitation.
I sank onto the edge of my bed, head in my hands.
It hit me then.
The truth I'd been avoiding. The truth that had been threading itself through every heartbeat since the hospital.
I had fallen for her.
Completely. Unapologetically. Terrifyingly.
And it scared me more than any fight, more than any threat Ram could throw at us.
Because this wasn't protection anymore. I didn't just want her safe. I wanted her. All of her.
Every laugh, every sigh, every stubborn glare she reserved for me.
I ran a hand over my face. My chest tightened. My heart wouldn't stop hammering.
She was alive. She was here. And I wanted her.
I realized, finally, that I hadn't just been carrying guilt and rage these past days. I'd been carrying her.
And now that I understood that, there was no turning back.
Because loving Jay wasn't a choice.
It was inevitable.
And the quiet of my room suddenly felt heavier than any battlefield.
Because I knew the moment I let myself admit it, everything would change.
Everything.
And I wouldn't care.
I leaned back against the headboard, eyes closing. My heartbeat was steady but insistent, carrying a truth I hadn't dared to speak aloud yet.
I had fallen.
I had fallen for the one woman I sworned I would never.
I had fallen for Jasper Jean Mariano....
My Jay Jay...
And there was no going back...