JAY'S POV — WHEN I FINALLY SAY IT OUT LOUD
From the moment I stepped into the condo, I knew I wasn't going to make it through the night alone.
The lights were on—soft, warm—but the space still felt hollow. Like it was holding its breath for me.
Damian was there.
Leaning against the kitchen counter, jacket off, sleeves rolled up. He looked up the second the door closed behind me.
"You're here," he said quietly.
Not a question. Not relief.
Recognition.
I nodded, dropping my bag by the door like it weighed more than it should've.
"Cleaning's still going," he added after a beat. "Another hour, at least. I'm sorry."
"It's okay," I said automatically.
The lie slipped out too easily.
Damian's eyes sharpened—not suspicious, just knowing. He'd learned the difference years ago. After funerals. After lawyers. After nights I stared at walls instead of sleeping.
"Jay," he said gently, "you haven't eaten. Let's go out for a bit."
I didn't argue.
He handed me a helmet, and minutes later we were cutting through the city on his bike, the wind tearing at my thoughts, blurring the edges of everything I was trying not to feel. Streetlights streaked past like unfinished sentences.
The restaurant was new. Still smelled like fresh wood and ambition. Warm lighting. Soft music. People laughing like nothing in the world had ever collapsed on them.
We sat in a corner booth.
Damian ordered without asking.
I wrapped my hands around the glass of water, stared at the condensation like it could ground me.
We sat like that for a while.
Then he asked, softly—
"What happened at the Fernandez house?"
That was it.
The dam cracked.
"I walked in thinking I'd proven myself," I said, voice low. "That after everything I did—saving the company, protecting the name—I'd finally earned… honesty."
My throat tightened.
"They were waiting in the study," I continued. "All of them. Calm. Polite. Like they hadn't just decided my future without me."
Damian didn't interrupt.
"They signed the partnership," I said. "Smiled. Thanked me. Like I was some external consultant instead of family."
My hands began to shake.
"I trusted them," I whispered. "After my parents died, they were all I had. I thought—if I stayed good, stayed useful, stayed quiet—they wouldn't hurt me."
I laughed weakly. "Turns out that just made it easier."
The tears came fast then.
Ugly. Uncontrolled.
"I loved them," I cried. "And they still used me."
Damian stood up immediately and slid into the booth beside me, pulling me into his arms before I could even think to resist.
I collapsed against him.
Sobbed into his chest like I was twelve again and the world had ended for the first time.
He held me tight—one arm firm around my shoulders, the other cradling my head.
"It's okay," he murmured. "You don't have to carry this alone. You don't ever have to."
I shook my head, breath breaking. "I was betrayed by the only people I thought wouldn't do that to me."
"I know," he said softly. "And that hurts worse than enemies ever could."
I cried harder.
Then—quietly, like it scared me to say it—
"I fell in love too."
Damian stilled slightly, then relaxed again.
"With Keifer," I whispered. "It wasn't planned. It just… happened. He saw me. Not the company. Not the leverage. Me."
My voice trembled.
"I confessed. In the rain. Like something out of a stupid movie," I let out a broken laugh. "And he said it back. Like he'd been waiting forever."
I pulled back just enough to look at Damian.
"And for one night," I said, tears sliding freely now, "I felt chosen."
Damian smiled—soft, proud, not surprised.
"That's not stupid," he said. "That's rare."
"But everything's so messy," I said. "My family. The company. The timing. I don't want him to get caught in the fallout."
Damian cupped my face gently, forcing me to look at him.
"Jay," he said firmly, "you have spent your entire life protecting everyone else from discomfort."
I swallowed.
"If you love him," he continued, "don't punish yourself for it. Don't walk away just because things aren't clean."
His voice softened.
"You deserve something real. And whoever loves you will stand with you—not behind you."
I nodded, breath hitching.
"And for the record," he added, a small grin breaking through, "I support this one hundred percent."
I laughed through tears. "You barely know him."
"I know you," he replied. "That's enough."
The food arrived then.
We ate slowly. Comfortingly. Like two people rebuilding themselves one bite at a time.
By the time we finished, my chest hurt less.
Not gone.
But survivable.
As we stood to leave, my phone buzzed.
I glanced down.
Percy:
hey baby sistah. see you soon.
I blinked. Then laughed—real, surprised.
I showed the screen to Damian.
He whistled. "Wow. Now that is something fun coming your way."
"For once," I said, smiling softly, "I think I need that."
We stepped back into the night.
The city hummed around us.
And for the first time since everything broke—
I felt supported on all sides.
Not fixed.
But held...
And that was enough to keep going..
Damian dropped me off just past midnight.
He didn't say much—just waited until I was inside, until the door locked behind me, until the light in the living room flicked on.
Only then did he leave.
The condo was… different.
Cleaned. Reset. Soft jazz humming low from the speakers like it had always belonged there. My books stacked neatly. Clothes folded. The scent of lemon and something familiar—home, but earned.
I kicked off my shoes and stood there for a moment, breathing.
Then exhaustion hit me all at once.
I showered. Changed into an oversized tee. Crawled into bed without checking my phone, without thinking, without replaying the night like a wound I couldn't stop touching.
Sleep took me fast.
No dreams.
Just quiet.
Morning came gently.
Sunlight slipped through the curtains like it wasn't trying to scare me awake.
I lay there for a few seconds, disoriented—then remembered everything.
And surprisingly, didn't break.
I got up.
Tied my hair back. Made breakfast—eggs, toast, coffee strong enough to argue back. Ate standing by the counter, watching the city wake up below me.
Normal things.
Necessary things.
By the time I grabbed my bag and headed to school, I almost believed I could pretend nothing had changed.
Almost.
The campus buzzed like always. Voices. Footsteps. Lockers slamming. Life moving forward without checking if I was ready.
I took a breath and stepped toward my classroom.
That's when someone grabbed my arm.
Hard.
I barely had time to gasp before I was yanked sideways, the door of an empty room slamming shut behind us.
"Hey—" I started, shoving back instinctively—