JAY-JAY POV
"Jay, please, I know what I did was wrong but—" Keifer started.
"Keifer, enough."
I cut him off before he could even try.
"I don't want to hear your explanation. Just tell me if you want to stay with the kids or not."
He swallowed, then nodded.
Before either of us could say anything else, a tiny voice broke the tension.
"Mama!" Keira came running to my side, holding up a cup proudly. "Look! Tito Percy got me chocolate ice‑cream!"
Behind her, Kade and Kevin walked in too, each holding their own cup like they'd won a prize.
I stared at them, then at Percy.
"Percy," I said, giving him the look.
He raised both hands like he was surrendering.
"Sorry, Sis, they wouldn't take no for an answer."
Keira nodded aggressively, as if backing him up.
Kade was already eating his.
Kevin sat on the chair beside me, quietly offering me a spoonful of his like it was a peace treaty.
And just like that, the heavy air in the room cracked a little.
Keifer stepped back, watching the kids crowd around me, his expression softening even though the conversation between us wasn't finished.
"Mama, can Papa stay with us?" Keira asked, her little hand tugging at my blanket.
"Keira, I already told you not to ask Mama about that," Kevin said, sounding far older than his age.
"Kuya, I want Papa to stay with us," Kade added, stepping closer to the bed, his voice firm.
Kevin turned to him, frustration bubbling over.
"You want that man to stay with us? But what about Mama? She took care of us for four years while he—"
He stopped mid‑sentence.
Keifer froze.
His whole body went still, like Kevin's words hit him harder than any punch.
"Keivin," I said sharply, cutting him off. "Enough. Don't talk to your Papa like that."
Kevin looked down, jaw tight, but he didn't argue.
I took a breath, steadying myself.
"And yes… he can stay with us," I said, turning to Kade and Keira.
Their faces lit up instantly.
Keira ran straight into Keifer's arms, hugging him around the waist.
Kade followed, wrapping his arms around Keifer's middle, holding on tight.
Keifer let out a shaky breath, kneeling down to hug them both properly.
His eyes were shining — not with joy alone, but with relief, guilt, and something like hope.
Kevin stayed by my side, silent, watching them with a mix of confusion and hurt.
I reached for his hand.
"We'll talk later," I whispered to him.
He nodded, still not looking at Keifer.
"Jay," Percy said quietly as he came to stand beside my bed.
I looked up at him.
"Did you think about this?" he asked, his voice low, careful, like he was afraid of the answer.
I nodded, my eyes drifting back to the kids — all three of them crowding around Keifer, talking over each other, showing him their ice‑cream, clinging to him like they'd been waiting years for this moment.
"They deserve better, Percy," I said softly. "Better than watching us fight. Better than choosing sides. Better than growing up confused."
Percy followed my gaze, his expression softening.
He nodded slowly.
"Yeah… they do."
For a moment, we just stood there — me in the bed, him at my side — watching the kids laugh around the man who had once broken me and was now trying to piece himself back together.
Percy sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Tito," Kevin said.
"Yes, my handsome nephew?" Percy answered immediately, already suspicious.
"I want more ice‑cream," Kevin said — not asking, commanding.
Percy threw his hands up dramatically.
"Jay, your kids are gonna make me go broke because of their obsession with food!"
He grumbled his way toward the door, but he was smiling the whole time.
I couldn't help laughing.
Then—
"Jay," Keifer called softly.
I turned to him.
"The doctor said you can be discharged today," he said. "Are you ready?"
I nodded.
But the moment I did, something inside me tightened — a mix of relief, fear, and the weight of everything waiting outside this room.
Keifer stepped closer, his voice gentler now.
"I'll help you," he said. "Just… take it slow."
For a second, the room felt quiet again — the kind of quiet where everything unsaid hangs in the air.
Then Keira climbed onto the bed, holding her melting ice‑cream cup.
"Mama, can we go home now?" she asked, chocolate smeared on her cheek.
And just like that, the heaviness eased.
I smiled and brushed her hair back.
"Yes, baby. We're going home."
Percy came back into the room with three more cups of ice‑cream balanced in his hands like a circus act.
"Alright, tiny food monsters," he announced, handing them out, "don't say Tito never gives you anything."
Keira squealed.
Kade grabbed his cup like it was treasure.
Kevin took his with a quiet "thank you," still glued to my side.
I pushed my hands against the mattress, trying to sit up.
Keifer immediately stepped forward and offered his hand.
But I didn't take it.
His hand hovered there for a second — suspended in the air between us — before he slowly lowered it, pretending it didn't sting.
"I can manage," I said softly, adjusting myself upright.
He nodded, but the flicker of hurt in his eyes was impossible to miss.
Percy noticed too.
He shot Keifer a look that said don't push her and then turned back to the kids like nothing happened.
Kevin moved closer, placing a steadying hand on my arm.
"I got you, Mama," he said quietly.
That one sentence hit harder than anything.
Keifer watched, silent, his jaw tightening just a little — not in anger, but in the realization that he had a lot to earn back.
I finally swung my legs over the side of the bed, breathing slowly.
"Okay," I said. "Let's go home."
I swung my legs off the bed slowly, my body still weak.
Kevin immediately stepped in front of me, holding both my hands like he was afraid I'd fall.
"I got you, Mama," he murmured.
I let him guide me toward the door, his small hands steady and sure.
He walked slowly, matching my pace, glancing up at me every few seconds to make sure I was okay.
Behind us, Keifer lifted Keira into his arms while holding Kade's hand.
Keifer's eyes weren't on them.
They were on me.
And on Kevin.
Watching the way Kevin stayed glued to my side.
Watching the way I leaned on our son instead of him.
Watching the distance he couldn't cross yet.
He didn't say anything.
He didn't try to take Kevin's place.
He just followed behind us quietly, carrying the two kids who still trusted him without hesitation.
And for a moment, walking down that hallway, I felt the weight of everything we were trying to rebuild.
We reached Keifer's car, and I settled into the back seat.
Keira climbed into the front beside him, swinging her legs happily.
Kevin and Kade slid in next to me, both quiet for different reasons.
Percy leaned into the open window.
"Okay, Sis, bye. Take care," he said, giving me that soft, worried look he only uses when he's trying not to cry.
Then he turned to Keifer, his expression sharpening.
"Keifer," he said, voice low. "Take care of her. Don't leave her again."
Keifer nodded once, serious
Kevin's eyes flicked between the two of them.
He wasn't a baby — he understood exactly what Percy meant.
And that understanding sat heavy on his face.
I reached out and touched his cheek gently.
"Come here and sleep," I whispered, patting my lap. "I don't think you slept."
He hesitated for a second — not because he didn't want to, but because he was still watching Keifer through the rear‑view mirror, still trying to figure out how to feel.
Then he finally leaned into me, resting his head on my lap like he used to when he was small.
I stroked his hair, feeling the tension slowly leave his body.
Kade shifted closer too, his shoulder brushing mine, as if making sure I was still there.
Keifer glanced back at us before starting the car — his eyes lingering on Kevin curled against me, on the way I held our son, on the quiet trust he hadn't earned back yet.
And for a moment, the car felt full of everything we were trying to rebuild.
Fragile.
Hopeful.
Uncertain.
But together.