The warmth of Keifer's neck and the steady, protective beat of his heart should have been enough to drown out the world, but as Jay clung to him, a jagged memory pierced through the peace.
Behind her closed eyelids, she didn't see the sunrise; she saw the flick of a him with Nicole last night.
The hug that felt like a sanctuary suddenly felt like a question.
Jay pulled back slowly, her movements hesitant.
She didn't let go of him completely—her fingers remained curled around his large hands—but the distance between them grew cold.
She looked up at him, her glassy eyes searching his face, a flicker of old, familiar insecurity dancing in her gaze.
"Keifer..." she whispered, her voice trembling.
"Hmm?"
He leaned in, his thumb tracing a soothing circle on the back of her hand, his expression soft and completely devoted.
She paused, the words catching in her throat.
She didn't want to break the magic of their "start over,"
but the image of him in that room was a thorn she couldn't pull out alone.
"What were you... what were you doing in... Nicole's room?"
The air in the room seemed to shift.
Keifer didn't flinch, but a shadow of genuine sadness and regret crossed his features.
He didn't pull away; instead, he squeezed her hands tighter, as if to anchor her to the truth.
"Jay,"
he began, his voice deep and heavy with honesty.
"She tricked me. I swear to you, I never wanted to be there."
He didn't leave anything out.
He explained how Nicole had manipulated the situation, playing on his sense of obligation or using a lie to lure him into a space where it would look compromising.
He spoke with a raw frustration, his jaw tightening as he recalled the trap.
As he talked, Jay watched him—every twitch of his eye, every breath he took.
She looked for a lie, but she only found a man who was disgusted by the games that had almost cost him the only thing he truly cared about.
As the last of his explanation faded into the quiet room, Jay felt a massive wave of relaxation wash over her.
The knot in her stomach, the one that had been tightening since the party, finally unraveled.
She believed him.
But one lingering doubt remained, small and stinging.
She looked down at their joined hands, her voice barely audible.
"But why? Why did she... do that? Does she... does she still... love you?"
Keifer looked directly into Jay's eyes, his expression raw and honest, stripping away the mystery of his past.
"No, Jay. She didn't love me.
It was never love—it was just obsession,"
he said, his voice dropping into a low, reflective tone.
He took a breath, bracing himself for the confession.
"In our school days... I used to like her."
Jay's heart gave a small, sharp tug at his words, her eyes searching his face for any lingering spark of that old flame.
But Keifer didn't look back with longing; he looked back with a weary kind of wisdom.
"But she just used me," he continued, his jaw tightening.
"She used me to get close to my best friend, Yuri. She started dating him behind my back, playing us both. She intentionally created gaps between us, weaving lies to keep us apart. And when we both finally caught her... when the truth came out... she didn't apologize. She just widened the distance even more and flew to London, leaving the mess behind."
The pain in his voice wasn't for Nicole—it was for the betrayal of a friend and the wasted time of a boy who didn't know better.
Jay didn't wait for him to say another word.
The last trace of jealousy evaporated, replaced by a fierce, protective surge of love for the man sitting in front of her.
She moved instinctively, pushing herself up onto her knees on the mattress.
The oversized white shirt shifted, its hem barely covering her mid-thighs as she lunged forward to wrap her arms around him.
She pulled his face into the crook of her neck, her fingers immediately finding their way into his hair, brushing the soft strands in a soothing, rhythmic motion.
She wanted to shield him from those old memories, to be the peace he had lost in his that time.
Keifer froze for a split second, his breath hitching in surprise at her sudden boldness.
But the shock lasted only a moment.
He let out a long, shuddering sigh and allowed himself to drown in her warmth.
His large hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him until there wasn't a breath of space left between them.
___________________________________
The air in the room, which had been so heavy with emotional confessions just moments ago, suddenly shifted as Jay's gaze fell to her own lap.
She stared at the crisp, white fabric of the oversized shirt, the long sleeves bunching at her wrists where they had just been draped over Keifer's shoulders.
The memory of the gala—the tight, restrictive lace of her gown and the suffocating weight of the jewelry—flashed through her mind.
She looked down at her bare thighs pressing against Keifer's trousers, and the realization hit her like a physical wave of heat.
I was in a gown. I didn't change myself.
Her face turned a shade of crimson so deep it felt like her skin was glowing.
Her mind raced through the possibilities, her breath hitching as she slowly lifted her eyes to meet Keifer's.
He was watching her, his expression unreadable, one brow slightly arched in curiosity.
"Keifer..." she stammered, her voice barely a squeak.
"Hmm?"
"This... this shirt,"
she gestured vaguely to herself, her fingers trembling against the buttons.
"I... I was wearing that... that gown last night. How did I.....?"
Keifer watched the way she avoided his eyes, her small hands frantically trying to pull the hem of the shirt lower over her legs.
He knew exactly what was spiraling through her head.
He had been about to tell her that Sophia had helped her change while he waited, but seeing the way her shyness was battling with her curiosity, a mischievous idea sparked in his mind.
The "CEO" disappeared, replaced by a man who loved seeing her flustered.
His lips curled into a slow, devastating smirk.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he leaned in a little closer, his eyes dropping to the collar of the shirt—his shirt—before drifting back up to her burning face.
"What's the matter, Jay?"
he asked, his voice dropping into a low, playful velvet.
"Do you really need to ask?"
Jay's breath hitched, her throat suddenly feeling bone-dry.
Her eyes, wide and shimmering with a mix of shock and utter mortification, stayed locked on his face.
She felt the heat radiating from her own cheeks, a deep, pulsing crimson that made her ears tingle.
"You..."
she whispered, the word barely escaping her lips.
"You... did it?"
The thought of him—the composed, untouchable Keifer—carefully unzipping that complicated gala gown and helping her into his own shirt while she was unconscious was enough to make her heart do a frantic backflip.
She felt the weight of the oversized fabric on her skin differently now, every thread feeling like it was branded with his touch.
Keifer didn't blink.
He kept his expression perfectly schooled, though the corners of his eyes were dancing with a suppressed, wicked delight.
He leaned in just an inch closer, his shadow falling over her flustered form, making the space between them feel dangerously small.
"Is that so hard to believe, Jay?"
he asked, his voice dropping into a smooth, teasing hum.
He reached out, his fingers idly playing with the edge of the long sleeve that swallowed her hand.
He watched the way her eyelashes fluttered and the way she bit her lower lip in a desperate attempt to stay calm.
"I told you,"
he murmured, his smirk widening as he saw her grip the duvet until her knuckles turned white.
"I want to be the one who takes care of your mess. Every part of it."
Jay felt like she was going to melt into the mattress.
She wanted to disappear, to hide under the pillows, but she was pinned by his gaze.
she squeaked, her voice cracking.
"I... I can't... you're joking, right?"
He let out a low, vibrating chuckle that seemed to echo in the very center of her chest.
He didn't confirm or deny it yet; he just watched her struggle with the mental image, enjoying the way his "shy Mutya" was currently short-circuiting right in front of him.
Jay's mind was a frantic whirlwind of images—the complicated lace of the gown, the vulnerability of the night before, and the devastating thought that he had been the one to see her like that.
She couldn't even bring herself to look at him; her gaze was glued to the white buttons of the shirt, her fingers curling into the fabric until her knuckles turned white.
He saw... he saw everything.
The thought made her skin prickle with a heat that had nothing to do with the morning sun.
Before she could find her voice to protest, she felt the mattress shift.
Keifer leaned in, his large frame casting a shadow over her, effectively caging her between his arms.
Jay instinctively leaned back, her spine pressing into the headboard as her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Her breath came in short, shallow hitches, her eyes wide and searching his face for a sign—any sign—that he was just teasing.
But Keifer wasn't backing down.
He remained inches away, his gaze deliberate and slow.
It started at her lips, which were parted in shock, then dropped to the hollow of her throat.
He watched the visible jump of her pulse and the way she swallowed hard, her throat bobbing as she tried to find her words.
Finally, his dark, smoldering eyes locked onto hers.
"Yes, Jay,"
he whispered, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that seemed to hum right through her skin.
"Yes... I saw."
As if that wasn't enough to make her short-circuit, he slowly bit down on the center of his lower lip, a look of pure, naughty mischief flashing in his eyes.
The "CEO" was gone, replaced by a man who knew exactly how much power he had over her in this moment.
"I saw everything,"
he repeated, his breath ghosting over her lips.