JAY POV — COLE & CELESTE
I didn't plan to tell them.
I never do.
I showed up at the villa with that hollow feeling still lodged behind my ribs — the one that comes after crying so hard your body forgets how to feel anything else.
Celeste noticed immediately. She always did. She paused mid-sentence, eyes narrowing just a fraction, like she'd sensed a shift in gravity.
Cole handed me a mug without asking questions. Hot. Sweet. Familiar.
I stared into it longer than necessary.
Then I broke.
Not all at once.
Not dramatically.
Just… piece by piece.
I told them about the park.
About midnight and flickering lights and stone digging into my knees.
About Keifer falling apart in front of me like he'd been holding himself upright on pure will for years.
I told them about his mother.
About Kaizer.
About watching the truth tear him open in a way no apology ever could.
I told them about the plan — how it had been real once, how it had died quietly when no one was paying attention, how all of them had fallen in love with me by accident and never recovered.
Celeste didn't interrupt.
Cole didn't react.
That scared me more than anger would have.
"And the pills," I finished quietly. "They started after I left."
The room felt too small after that.
Cole leaned back in his chair slowly, fingers steepled like he was rearranging something in his head.
Celeste sat beside me on the couch, close but not touching. Respecting the distance I didn't know how to close yet.
Finally, Cole spoke.
"Did he ever hurt you on purpose?" he asked.
The question was sharp. Precise. Dangerous.
I shook my head immediately. "No. Never."
"Did he lie to you after he fell in love with you?" Cole continued.
I hesitated.
"No," I admitted. "He told me the truth… when it mattered. When he thought it would make me hate him."
Cole nodded once, like that confirmed something.
Then he said the thing I wasn't ready for.
"Then this wasn't manipulation," he said calmly. "This was a fucked-up kid making a catastrophic decision because that's all he knew how to do."
My chest tightened.
Celeste turned to me then.
"You're not angry anymore," she said softly. "You're grieving."
That hit harder than anything Keifer had said.
"Grieving what?" I whispered.
"The version of him you thought you had," she replied. "And the version of yourself that didn't have to know how ugly love can get."
I swallowed.
"I don't know if I can forgive him," I admitted. "I don't know if I should."
Cole stood, walked to the window, and stared out like the answer was hiding somewhere between buildings.
"Forgiveness isn't the same as reconciliation," he said. "And love doesn't require either one to exist."
Celeste took my hand then. Firm. Certain.
"But don't punish yourself by walking away just because the story got messy," she said. "You still love him. I see it in the way you talk about him — like you're afraid of saying his name too loud."
Tears burned my eyes again.
"What if I get hurt again?" I asked.
Celeste squeezed my fingers.
"You might," she said honestly. "But you'll survive. You always do."
Cole turned back toward us.
"The question isn't whether he deserves another chance," he said. "It's whether you deserve the chance to choose happiness knowing the truth."
The room went quiet.
And somewhere in that silence, something inside me loosened.
Not forgiveness.
Not trust.
But permission.
--- DAYS LATER
I didn't run back to Keifer.
I didn't cut him off either.
I let things exist in that fragile middle space where healing usually begins.
And for the first time since the park, I noticed something important:
He wasn't chasing me.
No dramatic texts. No guilt-heavy apologies. No midnight spirals poured into my inbox.
Instead, I heard things through Cin as he was closest to him...
That he'd changed doctors. That he was tapering off the pills safely. That he'd stepped away from internal Watson affairs entirely.
He wasn't trying to prove anything.
He was building a version of himself that could stand even if I never came back.
And that…
that made it harder not to return.
---
Forgiving Section E didn't happen in a single moment.
It happened in pieces.
In glances that lingered too long. In jokes that tested the air before landing. In the way silence slowly stopped feeling like punishment.
They didn't ambush me.
They didn't corner me with explanations or guilt or excuses.
They waited.
Like they always did when things mattered.
We met at the amusement park on a humid afternoon that smelled like sugar and oil and sun-warmed asphalt.
Bright colors everywhere. Music bleeding from too many directions. Children screaming with unfiltered joy.
It felt aggressively alive.
Too alive for how heavy my chest still felt.
The words slipped out before I could overthink them.
"I forgive you."
For half a second—
Nothing happened.
Then all hell broke loose.
Cin made a strangled noise that sounded like relief physically leaving his body and launched himself at me like a missile.
"JAY JAY—"
I barely had time to brace before Felix slammed in from the side, arms wrapping around both of us.
"I KNEW IT," he yelled, voice cracking. "I KNEW YOU WOULDN'T LEAVE US FOREVER—"
Blaster barreled in next, laughing and half-crying, knocking us all off balance. Rory tripped over absolutely nothing and still managed to grab onto my arm like his life depended on it.
Josh shouted something incoherent. Kit swore. Drew yelled, "GROUP HUG IS HAPPENING—" Denzel's arms came around my shoulders carefully, like he was afraid I'd vanish if he squeezed too hard. Edrix buried his face against my hair. Mayo whooped like this was the best day of his life. Eren laughed so hard he had to bend over. Yuri stood frozen for exactly three seconds—
Then stepped in and wrapped his arms around all of us from behind.
I disappeared completely.
Crushed. Smothered. Lifted half off the ground.
"YOU'RE GOING TO KILL HER," someone yelled.
"I DON'T CARE," Cin sobbed. "SHE FORGAVE US—"
I laughed through tears, breathless, hands clutching whoever I could reach.
"Okay—okay—" I gasped. "I forgive you, not resurrected—"
They didn't let go anyway.
People stared. Kids laughed. Someone clapped.
And for the first time in years, being surrounded by them didn't feel like something I had to survive.
It felt like something I'd come back to.
Later—much later—after food and noise and too many photos—
The Ferris wheel.
It towered over the park, lights tracing slow circles against the darkening sky. Fireworks were being prepped somewhere nearby. You could feel it in the air — that hum of anticipation.
Keifer stood beside me in line, quiet, hands folded, eyes lifted toward the wheel like it might decide something for him.
"You don't have to ride with me," he said softly.
I looked at him.
"I want to."
The operator waved us forward.
The cabin door closed with a soft clang.
And then—
We lifted.
The park shrank beneath us. Noise dulled. Lights blurred into constellations.
Keifer's knee bounced nervously.
I reached over and rested my hand on it.
It stilled instantly.
"I talked to Cole and Celeste," I said.
His breath caught.
"They told me I don't have to punish myself for choosing happiness," I continued. "That loving you doesn't make me weak. It makes me honest."
The wheel climbed higher.
The city spread out beneath us like something fragile and beautiful.
"I forgave Section E today," I added.
He smiled — small, careful.
"They don't deserve you," he said.
"I know," I replied. "Neither do you."
He laughed softly, shaking his head.
Then I turned fully toward him.
"And I forgive you too."
The Ferris wheel reached the top.
The world paused.
Keifer looked at me like he was afraid to breathe.
"Jay—"
"I'm not forgetting," I said gently. "I'm not erasing what hurt. But I'm choosing what comes next."
His eyes filled.
"I love you,Jay" he whispered. "In every way I know how. In ways I'm still learning.I love you untill scientists find the end of the universe..."
"I love you too Keifer, it's been long enough... "
Fireworks exploded beneath us — not above, but below, blooming against the skyline like the city itself was celebrating.
Light washed over his face.
I leaned in.
This kiss wasn't rushed. It wasn't desperate. It wasn't broken.
It was steady. Warm. Certain.
A promise made without words.
When we pulled back, foreheads touching, the wheel began to descend.
For once, I wasn't afraid of coming back down.
Because this time—
I wasn't walking away.
I was choosing to stay....