The next evening, Jay was feeling better enough to wander around the house again.
She stood in the kitchen, stealing strawberries straight from the bowl, when Keifer walked in and stopped short.
He folded his arms. "Are you snacking… before dinner?"
Jay popped another strawberry into her mouth, completely unapologetic. "I survived cramps. I earned this."
Keifer shook his head, amused. "You're impossible."
She grinned. "And yet you keep me."
He stepped closer, leaning one hand on the counter. "Barely."
Jay laughed, bright and easy, then paused when she caught him watching her—quietly, fondly, like the world had slowed just for her.
"What?" she asked.
Keifer shrugged. "Nothing. Just… you look lighter today."
Her smile softened. "That's because someone turned into a full-time caretaker."
"Temporary," he said. "Don't let it get to your head."
"Oh, it already has," Jay teased. "My standards are officially unreachable now."
Keifer raised an eyebrow. "Again with that?"
"Yes, again," she said, pointing at him. "You cook, you remember things, you stay, you don't disappear when I'm difficult. How is anyone supposed to compete with that?"
"I'm not competing," he said calmly. "I'm choosing."
That made her chest tighten.
She looked away, suddenly quieter. "That's the scary part."
Keifer's expression softened instantly. "What is?"
Jay set the strawberry down. "I didn't know love could be this steady," she admitted. "And now that I do… I'm scared of losing it."
Keifer didn't joke this time. He stepped closer, resting his forehead against hers. "Jay."
She swallowed. "When I was with Jax, I always felt like I was asking for too much. Now I realize I was just asking the wrong person."
Keifer reached up and cupped her face gently. "You're not asking too much now."
Her voice wavered. "Promise?"
"I don't make careless promises," he said quietly. "But I promise this—I'm not going anywhere."
Jay exhaled, relief and emotion washing over her. "You're really unfair, you know that?"
He smiled faintly. "How so?"
"You make it impossible to settle for less," she said. "You've raised the bar to heaven and then stood there like it's normal."
Keifer brushed his thumb under her eye. "Then stay here. Don't look down."
She smiled, leaning into his touch. "With you?"
"Always."
Jay rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling calm settle into her bones.
A moment later, she mumbled, "Also… I'm still keeping the strawberries."
Keifer laughed softly, holding her closer. "I wouldn't dare take them."
And just like that, the fear loosened its grip—replaced by warmth, teasing, and the quiet certainty that this wasn't fragile.
It was real.
Monday arrived quietly, like it didn't want to disturb whatever peace they'd built.
Jay stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her hair, nerves fluttering low in her chest. It had been a week away from work—long enough for rumors to bloom and curiosity to sharpen.
Keifer appeared behind her, already dressed, calm as ever. "You ready?"
She glanced at him through the mirror. "I think so."
He stepped closer, straightening her collar with gentle fingers. "If you're not, that's fine too."
She smiled. "You're saying that like you can shield me from the entire office."
"I can," he said simply.
Jay laughed. "CEO arrogance."
"CEO confidence," he corrected, amused.
At the office, the change was immediate.
Heads turned. Smiles lingered. Whispers followed—but not the sharp kind. The curious kind. The something's different kind.
Jay felt it… and so did Keifer.
In the elevator, she leaned closer and whispered, "They're staring."
Keifer didn't even blink. "Let them."
"That's easy for you to say."
He looked down at her. "You're with me."
Her heart softened at the quiet certainty in his voice.
At her desk, colleagues stopped by one after another—asking about her break, joking lightly. Nothing invasive. Nothing uncomfortable.
Keifer passed by once, paused, and set a cup of tea on her desk without a word.
The entire floor noticed.
Jay bit her lip to keep from smiling too wide.
A little later, during a meeting, she caught him watching her—not scrutinizing, not assessing. Just… there. Present. Grounded.
When she finished presenting, Keifer nodded once. "Well done."
Two words. Calm tone.
Jay nearly melted.
During lunch, she decided to test something.
She walked into his cabin without knocking, dropped into the chair across from him, and said brightly, "So, sir—are you always this generous with praise, or am I special?"
Keifer looked up slowly, lips twitching. "Jay."
"Yes?" she tilted her head innocently.
"You're in my office."
"And you're smiling," she pointed out. "Dangerous."
He leaned back, crossing his arms. "You enjoy this."
She grinned. "Very much."
He lowered his voice. "You're teasing me on purpose."
"Maybe," she said softly. "You don't seem to mind."
Keifer held her gaze for a moment, then sighed like a man surrendering. "You're going to be the death of my reputation."
Jay stood, leaned closer, and whispered, "Good."
As she left, he shook his head—smiling to himself.
Later that evening, back home, Jay kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto the couch. "I survived."
Keifer loosened his tie. "You thrived."
She glanced up at him. "You were watching."
"I always am."
She smiled, then grew thoughtful. "You know… today made me realize something."
He sat beside her. "What?"
"I used to think work and love had to be separate worlds," she said. "But with you, it all feels… balanced."
Keifer reached for her hand. "That's because you don't have to shrink yourself anywhere."
Jay squeezed his fingers. "You really did it, you know."
"Did what?"
"You made my standards impossible," she said lightly. "Anyone else would have to reach heaven just to be considered."
He chuckled softly. "Then don't consider anyone else."
She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I don't plan to."
Keifer pressed a gentle kiss to her hair, holding her close.
And just like that—between office walls and quiet evenings, teasing smiles and steady care—Jay knew this wasn't just a phase of comfort.
It was a life she wanted.
With him.