--: Jay-Jay's POV: --
I was done. I was tired of being handled like a piece of glass that would shatter if the wind blew too hard. I wanted the man who looked at me like I was his entire world, not the one who looked at me like a medical emergency.
When I lunged at him, I didn't care about the dull ache in my legs. I climbed over him, straddling his lap, my weight settling right over his reindeer. I felt him gasp, the air leaving his lungs in a sharp wheeze, but I didn't stop.
"What do you want, Jay?" he asked, his voice trembling. "Why have you been like this since dinner? I've done everything to make sure you're okay."
"You've done everything to stay away from me!" I yelled.
I looked down at him, and the sight of those navy blue pajamas made my blood boil. He looked like a stranger. My fingers flew to the buttons of his shirt, ripping them open with frantic, shaky movements.
"You usually sleep bare, Keifer. You hate shirts. But now? You're wearing a suit of armor. Why? Are you that afraid of me? Or are you just that disgusted by what happened last night?"
"Disgusted?" he rasped. I saw his hands come up, grabbing my wrists to stop me from baring his chest. "Jay, I'm obsessed with you! That's the problem! If I touch you, I won't stop, and look what happened last time! You were sick! You were in pain!"
I didn't want his logic. I didn't want his "Tactician" brain calculating my heart rate or my recovery time. I leaned down and smashed my lips against his. I poured every bit of my frustration, my hunger, and my hurt into that kiss. I wanted him to break. I wanted him to stop being the "Nurse" and start being Keifer again.
But he stayed still.
His lips remained pressed shut. His hands stayed firm on my wrists, pinning them so I couldn't touch his skin. He was refusing me. He was sitting there in his armor, being the responsible adult, while I was burning up right in front of him.
I pulled back, my chest heaving, a single tear of pure rage spilling over my lash line. The rejection stung worse than any fever ever could.
"Fine," I whispered, my voice deathly quiet. "If you want to play the saint, play it alone."
I opened my hand and threw the silver packet I'd stolen from his bag right at his face. It hit his cheek with a soft thud and landed on the pillow next to his head. I watched his eyes drop to it—the sight of it making him look like I'd slapped him.
I didn't give him a chance to speak. I jumped off him, my feet hitting the floor with a heavy thud. I sprinted to the bathroom, slamming the door and leaning against it as I shook. I ripped off my clothes and threw on my thickest, most modest pajamas. If he wanted a patient, I'd give him a patient.
When I emerged, I didn't even look at the bed. I didn't look at the silver packet mocking me from the sheets. I marched to the closet, grabbed the extra pillow and the heavy blanket, and headed for the small, stiff sofa across the room.
"Jay-Jay, get back in this bed right now," he commanded. His voice had dropped to that low, dangerous tone—the one he used when he was trying to reclaim control.
"No," I said, my voice muffled as I threw the pillow down and curled into a tight ball on the sofa. I wrapped the blanket around myself like a shield, tucking my cold feet inside. "The 'patient' is going to sleep over here. You can stay in your big, empty bed and celebrate how 'responsible' you are. Goodnight, Watson."
I squeezed my eyes shut, burying my face in the stiff fabric of the sofa cushion. The sofa was hard and uncomfortable, a far cry from the warmth of his chest, but the pride stinging in my chest was even harder.
I could hear him breathing across the room—heavy, ragged breaths. I could feel his gaze burning holes into my back. I waited for him to come over, for him to realize that his "discipline" was actually a wall that was keeping me out.
But as the minutes ticked by and the silence of the cottage grew deafening, I realized that for the first time, the Tactician had actually won the battle.
And I had never felt more alone.
--: Keifer's POV: --
I stayed in that bed for an hour, but I wasn't sleeping. I was a statue, staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft, restless sounds coming from the sofa. I heard the rustle of the blanket, the heavy sighs, and the way the wooden frame creaked every time Jay-Jay shifted, trying to find a comfortable spot on the narrow, stiff cushions.
The guilt I'd felt earlier was nothing compared to this. Seeing her choose a hard sofa over my arms because I was being too "disciplined" felt like a knife in the gut.
Eventually, the stirring stopped. Her breathing became slow and rhythmic. I waited another ten minutes just to be sure, then I slid out of bed. I walked over to the sofa, my heart breaking at how small she looked, curled into a ball to fit the small space.
I leaned down and carefully slid my arms under her. She mumbled something in her sleep, her head lulling against my shoulder, but she didn't wake. I carried her back to the bed and tucked her under the duvet.
As I laid her down, I noticed she was sweating. Her forehead was damp, and she was tugging at the high collar of those thick, heavy pajamas she'd put on out of spite.
"You're going to give yourself another fever just to prove a point, aren't you?" I whispered.
I couldn't leave her like that. I carefully unbuttoned the thick top, sliding it off her shoulders so her skin could finally breathe. I left her in her camisole and then slid into bed beside her, pulling her close. I didn't try anything; I just wanted to hold her. I finally closed my eyes, exhausted, thinking I'd fixed it.
I was wrong.
--: Jay-Jay's POV: --
I woke up at 3:00 AM, the room silent and bathed in silver moonlight. For a second, I felt warm and safe, but then the reality of the mattress beneath me hit.
I wasn't on the sofa.
I looked to my side and saw Keifer. He was fast asleep, his arm draped over my waist, looking perfectly content because he'd won by moving me back. Then I realized something else—my thick pajama top was gone. He'd taken it off me while I was unconscious.
The anger flared up, hot and sharp. He moved me back because he couldn't stand the sight of me on the sofa, yet he was still just sleeping. He was holding me like a doll, not a woman. He wanted the comfort of my body next to him without any of the passion that came with it.
Fine. If you want to be a nurse, go work in a hospital, I thought bitterly.
I carefully slid out from under his arm, my movements sharp and silent. I grabbed my thick top from the floor and pulled it back on, ignoring the heat. I grabbed my pillow and the extra blanket from the sofa, but I didn't stop there.
I wasn't staying in this cottage.
I walked to the door, my heart hammering against my ribs. I was scared—the island was dark, the shadows of the palm trees looking like monsters in the wind—but my pride was stronger than my fear. I pushed the door open, the salt air hitting my face, and stepped out into the night.
I ran toward the main mansion, my bare feet hitting the sand, my eyes darting around at every rustle of the leaves. When I finally reached the massive front doors, I slipped inside. The mansion was quiet.
I didn't head for the kitchen. I went straight to the guest room I had stayed in when we first arrived—Where I and Keifer stayed before.
I walked in, clicked the door shut, and flicked on the small night lamp. The room was cold and empty, smelling of fresh linen instead of Keifer's sandalwood. I climbed into the bed, pulled the covers up to my chin, and stared at the ceiling.
For the first time since we landed on this island, I was truly alone. And as I lay there, waiting for sleep that wouldn't come, I wondered if Keifer would even realize I was gone before the sun came up—or if he'd just think his patient was finally being well-behaved.
--: Keifer's POV: --
I woke up with a start, the kind of sudden, jarring consciousness that only comes when something is fundamentally wrong. The room was still dark, that pre-dawn grayness stretching across the ceiling. My arm was extended, my hand splayed open on the mattress, expecting to feel the warmth of Jay-Jay's skin.
But there was only cold, empty linen.
I sat up so fast my head spun. I blinked, my eyes darting to the sofa, half-hoping she had simply crawled back there in the middle of the night. It was empty. The pillow and blanket I'd seen her use were gone.
"Jay?" I whispered, my voice sounding thin and panicked in the quiet room. "Jay-Jay?"
I scrambled out of bed, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I checked the bathroom—empty. I checked the closet—empty. My gaze fell to the floor by the bed. The thick pajama top I had carefully removed from her so she wouldn't overheat was gone.
She hadn't just moved; she had gathered her things. She had reclaimed her armor and vanished.
I rushed to the front door of the cottage. My hand shook as I touched the handle. It was unlocked. The realization hit me like a physical blow: she had walked out into the pitch-black night, alone, while she was still recovering from a fever.
"God, no," I rasped, the fear finally overtaking the confusion.
I didn't even grab my shoes. I sprinted out onto the porch, the cold sand stinging my bare feet as I hit the ground running. The island was a labyrinth of shadows. Every rustling palm frond sounded like a threat; every shadow looked like a ditch she could have fallen into.
"Jay!" I called out, I didn't care of I woke Aries or the others while I was in this state—shirtless, panicked.
I ran toward the beach, then doubled back toward the main mansion. It was the only place she would go. It was the only place that represented a retreat from me.
When I reached the heavy glass doors of the mansion, I saw they were pulled shut but the lock hadn't engaged properly. I slipped inside. The mansion was tomb-quiet and warm.
The silence here was deafening. I moved through the foyer like a ghost, my eyes scanning the dark hallways. I reached the door of the room we had stayed in during our first visit here. I pressed my ear to the wood.
I heard the faint, steady hum of an AC unit running inside that specific room.
I reached for the handle, my heart in my throat, expecting it to be locked. I expected her to have shut me out completely. But as I turned the knob, the mechanism clicked softly, and the door swung open.
She hadn't locked it.
I slipped inside, the sudden blast of cold air from her room's AC hitting my bare chest. The room was dim, lit only by the tiny green power light of the air conditioner. There she was—curled into a ball in the center of the massive bed, wrapped tightly in her blanket, looking small and defiant even in sleep.
Relief flooded through me so sharply I had to lean against the doorframe to keep from collapsing. She was safe. But the weight of the night still pressed down on me. She had retreated to the person she was before the bonfire, before the sessions, before I'd let my guilt turn me into a cold, distant stranger.
I didn't sink to the floor. I couldn't. The thought of her being alone in this cold room was more than I could bear.
I moved silently across the floor. I didn't say a word. I didn't want to wake her and see the anger in her eyes again. I simply sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly. Then, I carefully slid under the covers beside her.
I didn't try to pull her close. I didn't try to play the nurse. I just laid there, inches away from her, my bare skin finally beginning to thaw in the blankets. I stayed awake for a long time, watching the steady rise and fall of her shoulders, waiting for the sun to rise.
--: Jay-Jay's POV: --
I woke up to the sound of the ocean, but the acoustics were all wrong. The ceiling was too high, the air too stagnant. Then it hit me—the mansion. I had actually left. I had walked out on Keifer in the middle of the night because I couldn't stand the sight of him being a saint for one more second.
I shifted, expecting the coldness of the guest bed to greet me. But instead, I felt a heavy, familiar heat pressed against my spine.
I stiffened. I didn't even have to turn around to know who it was. The scent of sandalwood and salt air was unmistakable. I felt his arm draped over my waist—not clutching me with the desperation of the night before, but resting there, steady and stubborn.
I rolled over, my movement sharp and deliberate, and found myself inches away from Keifer's face. He was awake. He looked like he hadn't slept a second. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was a chaotic mess, and he was still shirtless, looking pale and chilled from the guest room's AC.
"What are you doing here, Keifer?" I asked, my voice cold and flat.
He didn't flinch. He just looked at me with a quiet, exhausted intensity. "The door wasn't locked, Jay. I wasn't going to let you sleep in this house alone."
"I wanted to be alone," I snapped, sitting up and pulling the duvet tightly around my chest. "That was the whole point of leaving. I wanted to be away from the 'nurse' who won't even look at me like a woman anymore."
--: Keifer's POV: --
The sting of her words was worse than the cold sand I'd run across to find her. I sat up too, my bare back hitting the headboard. I looked at her—wrapped in the blankets like a shield, her eyes flashing with a deep, simmering anger that I had earned.
"I'm not a nurse, Jay," I said, my voice sounding like it was being pulled through gravel. "I'm a man who's terrified of breaking the person he loves most. I saw you burning up. I heard you telling me to stop in your sleep. I let my guilt make the decisions because I couldn't trust my own hands."
"Then don't trust them," she hissed. "But don't lie to me. Don't move me back to the bed just to sleep beside me like a stranger. It's insulting."
I reached for her hand, but she pulled it away, clutching the blanket tighter. The wall between us was higher than ever, and for the first time, my brain had no plan. I was just a guy sitting in a dark room, freezing and failing.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm so sorry that my way of protecting you felt like rejection."
"Sorry doesn't fix the fact that I had to walk across this island in the dark just to feel like I had some dignity left," she said, her voice trembling now.
I opened my mouth to respond—to tell her I'd never let her go again—when the heavy thud of boots echoed in the hallway outside.
"Jay-Jay? You in here?"
Aries.
My heart stopped. I looked at Jay-Jay. She was still glaring at me, her jaw set, her anger far from over. I was shirtless, in a guest bed, with a sister whose brother was about to kick the door down.
"Jay, please,"I whispered, a hint of panic finally breaking through my exhaustion.
She didn't move. She didn't hide me. She didn't even look toward the door. She just kept her eyes locked on mine, waiting to see what I would do when my back was truly against the wall.
BAM! BAM!
"Jay! I went to the cottage and Keifer said—wait, Keifer isn't in the cottage either! Open this door!"
Aries didn't wait. The handle turned.
--: Jay-Jay's POV: --
The door handle turned, and for a split second, I saw Keifer's heart practically stop. He looked at me with pleading eyes, but I was still too stung by his saintly behavior to make it easy for him.
I scrambled out of bed, keeping the blanket wrapped tightly around me, and opened the door just as Aries was about to put his shoulder into it.
"Jay!" Aries barked, his eyes wide. "What the hell? Why are you in the mansion? I went to the cottage and it was empty. I thought someone had taken you!"
I leaned against the doorframe, trying to look as bored as possible despite the fact that my stomach was in knots. "The AC in the cottage was making a weird humming noise," I said, my voice flat. "I couldn't sleep. So I came here. It's not a crime, Aries."
Aries narrowed his eyes, his gaze shifting from my face to the room behind me. He saw Keifer sitting on the edge of the bed—shirtless, sandy-footed, and looking like he'd been dragged through a hedge backward.
"And he's here because he was checking the AC too?" Aries asked, his voice dropping into that dangerous brotherly register.
"He followed me because he's annoying," I snapped. I didn't wait for a follow-up. I pushed past Aries and headed back toward our cottage. I could feel Aries' gaze burning into my back; he knew me too well. He knew that when I gave stupid, nonsensical answers, I was usually hiding a massive amount of rage.
I heard Keifer mumble something incoherent to Aries before he scrambled to follow me. I didn't look back. I didn't want to see his tired face or those worried eyes. I needed him to understand that his protection felt like a cage.
I reached the cottage, slammed the door in his face, and turned the lock with a definitive clack.
--: Keifer's POV: --
I stood on the porch, staring at the closed door. My chest ached—not just from the cold morning air, but from the silence coming from the other side of that wood. I heard the shower turn on.
I didn't just stand there. I remembered the master key, I placed below the door mat—the one the staff had given us for emergencies. My hands were shaking as I pulled it out and unlocked the door, and I slipped inside.
I didn't try to go into the bathroom. I just sat on the edge of the bed and waited. I felt like a ghost in my own room. Twenty minutes later, the water stopped. When Jay-Jay stepped out, fully dressed in a sundress, her hair damp and smelling of coconut, she froze.
She didn't look happy to see me. In fact, she didn't look at me at all. She grabbed her sandals, walked straight past me as if I were a piece of furniture, and headed for the door.
"Jay, please," I rasped. "Talk to me."
The door slammed shut behind her.
--: Jay-Jay's POV: --
Walking to the mansion for breakfast felt like walking through lead. Every step was heavy. My heart was screaming at me to turn back, to grab him and tell him I wasn't really that mad, but I forced myself to keep going.
I hated this. I hated the silence. I hated the way my chest felt tight every time I thought about him sitting alone on that bed. But I had to do this. He needed to understand that by trying to be guilt-free and perfect, he was actually pushing me away. I needed him to realize that the only way to fix what happened was to be with me, not to hide from me behind a wall of long-sleeved pajamas and medicine.
_____
The dining hall was already buzzing with the sound of the others eating and laughing. I purposefully chose a seat right in the middle of the long table, sliding into the narrow gap between David and CiN. I didn't want to be easy to reach. I didn't want a safe space for Keifer to sit next to me and pretend things were fine.
"Where's your shadow?" Yuri asked, tilting her head as she noticed the empty space behind me. "I thought you two were joined at the hip."
"He's annoying," I said shortly, stabbing a piece of melon with a bit more force than necessary. "And he asks too many questions. I needed a break."
Yuri raised an eyebrow but didn't push. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, and the guys around me seemed to sense it, keeping their conversation light and careful.
A few minutes later, the heavy doors opened. Keifer walked in. He had showered and changed, but the dark circles under his eyes told the real story of his night. His gaze swept the room, landing on me instantly. I saw his jaw tighten when he realized I wasn't just sitting away from him—I was flanked by two other guys, leaving him no room to get close.
He walked straight over, his presence heavy and demanding. He stopped right behind David, his shadow looming over the table.
"David," Keifer said, his voice a low, vibrating growl. "Move. I'm sitting there."
David blinked, looking between Keifer's stony expression and my icy glare. He started to shift, clearly not wanting to be in the middle of a domestic war, but I put a hand on David's arm, stopping him.
"Why are you making him move?" I asked, my voice cool and steady. "He's already settled. There are plenty of other chairs at the end of the table, Keifer. Go sit somewhere else."
--: Keifer's POV: --
The words felt like a physical slap. Seeing her sit there, deliberately using David as a shield, made a hot surge of jealousy roar through my chest. She was treating me like an intruder.
I stared at her, my pulse thundering in my ears. I wanted to grab her right then, but the entire squad was staring at us, their forks frozen halfway to their mouths. The silence was deafening.
"Fine," I rasped, my voice thick with suppressed rage.
I turned on my heel and marched to the very end of the table, sitting in a chair that faced away from the group. I didn't touch my food. I didn't look at anyone. I just sat there, the jealousy and the guilt mixing into a volatile cocktail in my gut. I could hear her laughing at something David said, and every sound was like a needle under my skin.
I waited. I watched the clock. I didn't care about the "rules" anymore. I didn't care about being the responsible nurse. I just wanted my girl back.
--: Jay-Jay's POV: --
I could feel his eyes on the back of my head the entire time. I hated ignoring him. Every time I heard him shift in his chair at the end of the table, I wanted to turn around and tell him to come back. But I stayed firm. He had to realize that his distance was the one thing I couldn't handle.
When breakfast finally ended, I stood up, smoothing out my dress. "I'm going to head back and get some—"
I didn't even finish the sentence.
Suddenly, a pair of powerful arms wrapped around my waist. Before I could even gasp, I was hoisted into the air.
"Hey! Put me down!" I shouted, my hands thumping against Keifer's back.
He didn't say a word to me. He didn't even look at the others, who were watching with wide eyes and dropped jaws. He just adjusted his grip, slinging me over his shoulder like a sack of grain, and stormed out of the mansion.
"Keifer! People are looking! Stop it!" I protested, kicking my legs.
He ignored me, his stride long and furious as he marched across the sand. He didn't stop until we reached our cottage. He kicked the door open, stepped inside, and slammed it shut, the lock engaging with a heavy thud.
He set me down on the edge of the bed, but before I could even draw a breath to yell at him, he was over me. His hands cupped my face, his fingers tangling in my hair with a desperate, possessive force.
"I'm done," he growled, his face inches from mine. "I'm done being the saint. I'm done being the nurse. I'm done watching you sit with other men because I'm too afraid to touch you."
Before I could respond, he crashed his lips onto mine. This wasn't a question. It wasn't an apology. It was a reclamation. He kissed me with a raw, hungry intensity that burned away every bit of the morning's ice, his tongue demanding entry as he pinned me back against the pillows.
The silence of the cottage was gone, replaced by the sound of our ragged breathing and the heat that had been missing all day.