JAY JAY POV
THE DAY KEIFER LEAVES FOR LONDON
The airport was a chaotic mess of announcements, rolling suitcases, and blurred faces, but for me, the world had shrunk down to the size of a single boarding gate.
Keifer was a few feet away, surrounded by the usual idiots. Section E had shown up in full force—Ci-N was practically vibrating, Felix and David were leaning against the pillars trying to look cool despite their red-rimmed eyes, and even Jare was standing there with his arms crossed, looking more like a worried
I stayed back. I had to. If I stepped into that circle now I might cry
Damn you, Keifer Watson.
My eyes were already wet, the salt stinging against my cheeks. Fuck. I never felt like this.
It was a physical ache, a hollow space opening up in my chest that felt like it was being filled with cold lead. My hands were shoved deep into my pockets to hide the way they were shaking.
How am I supposed to stay away from him for a month? Thirty days. Seven hundred and twenty hours. It sounds like a prison sentence.
I watched him. He was wearing a black hoodie and jeans, looking like the dangerous, beautiful king he was. He was nodding at whatever Ci-N was babbling about, but his eyes... his eyes were scanning the crowd. He was looking for me.
The moment our gazes locked, the noise of the terminal faded into a dull hum.
Keifer didn't wait. He didn't say another word to the boys. He just started walking toward me, his stride purposeful and heavy. My heart did a frantic, painful sprint against my ribs.
"Jay-Jay," he rasped as he reached me.
Before I could even blink, I was pulled into his orbit. I wrapped my arms around his chest, clinging to his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping me from drifting away into the abyss. He pulled me even closer, his arms locking around my waist with a crushing force, as if he were trying to merge our heartbeats.
We didn't talk. We didn't say a word. The air around us was thick with the scent of his cologne and the heavy, humid atmosphere of an impending goodbye.
In the middle of that busy airport terminal, with Section E watching and travelers rushing past, it felt like time had simply stopped.
Keifer kept his face buried in my hair, his lips pressing slow, lingering kisses to my forehead and my temples.
Every time his lips touched my skin, a fresh wave of tears threatened to spill over.
I squeezed my eyes shut, burying my face in the crook of his neck. I wanted to memorize the way he felt—the solid strength of his shoulders, the warmth of his skin, and the way he held me like I was the most precious thing he had ever owned.
"Thirty days," he murmured against my temple, his voice so low it was only for me.
I couldn't even nod. I just gripped him tighter, my knuckles turning white.
"Don't forget," he whispered, his grip tightening for one last, desperate second. "You're mine"
Finally, he started to pull away. I felt the cold air rush into the space where he used to be, and it physically hurt. He cupped my face one last time, his dark eyes searching mine with a look that said he was leaving his soul behind in Manila.
"I love you, Jay-Jay. Infinitely."
Then he kissed me. My tears finally released, the salt and the heat of them staining my cheeks.
"Please don't cry, you know I hate it when you cry," Keifer said, his own voice sounding thick as he wiped my tears away with his thumbs.
I didn't answer. I couldn't. I just lunged forward and hugged him harder, burying my face in his shoulder, gripping the fabric of his hoodie like if I held on tight enough, the airport wouldn't be able to take him. He hugged me back, burying his face in my neck, pulling me closer and closer until there was no space between us
"Don't worry about me," Keifer murmured against my skin.
"What if they do something to you?" I asked, my voice muffled and shaking
"They can't. Because one, I'm your soon-to-be husband," Keifer said, pulling back just enough to give me that small, arrogant smirk that usually made me want to hit him, but right now, it was the only thing keeping me upright. "And two, I will be staying with your parents for some time."
I blinked, wiping my nose with my sleeve. "If you're staying with my parents, then why can't I come? I know London better than you! I can show you where the best shops are, and we can visit our old house, and—"
"Because Jay," he interrupted, his expression turning grave as he tucked a stray hair behind my ear. "This isn't a vacation. If you're there, you're the ultimate distraction. My father knows you're my weak spot. He knows that if he even looks in your direction, I'll drop everything to protect you. I need to be focused so I can finish this quickly and come back to where I belong."
He leaned down, pressing his forehead against mine, his eyes burning with an intensity that made my heart ache.
"Besides," he whispered, a hint of that gravelly, possessive tone returning. "If you go back to London, you might remember how much you liked the rain there. I need you here, waiting for me. I need to know that when I land back in Manila, the first thing I see is my Mutya."
"You're so selfish, Keifer Watson," I breathed, even as I leaned into his touch.
"Always," he agreed, stealing one last, bruising kiss. "But I'm only selfish when it comes to you."
He gave my waist one last squeeze, the kind that stayed with you long after the person was gone and finally stepped away. I stood there, surrounded by the noise of the airport and Section e, watching him walk toward the security line.
He didn't look back. I knew why. If he looked back and saw me standing there, he'd never get on that plane.
I was just playing with the ring in my hand, twisting it around my finger until the diamond caught the overhead fluorescent lights.
One month.
"Jay," a hand settled on my shoulder. It was Jare. He didn't say anything at first, just stood there with me
"He's going to be fine, Monkey," Jare said, his voice unusually soft. "He's staying with Papa. You know Papa—he'll probably have Keifer in a business meeting or a wrestling match within twenty-four hours. He won't have time to get into trouble."
I let out a shaky breath, my thumb tracing the edge of the diamond. "I'm not worried about him getting into trouble, Jare. I'm worried about the fact that I already miss his stupid, arrogant face."
I looked down at the ring again. It was a brand. A claim. In London, girls my age were worrying about A-levels and what to wear to parties. Here I was, seventeen, engaged to an asshole, and feeling like my heart had just been checked in as oversized luggage on a flight to Heathrow.
"Let's go," Jare said, nudging me toward the exit where the rest of Section E was waiting. "We have thirty days to keep you from moping, and I'm pretty sure Ci-N already has a list of distraction activities that involves a lot of sugar."
I nodded, taking one last look at the gate.
"And yeah, did Tita Serina tell you that we're staying at her house?" I asked, looking at Jare as we stepped into the humid Manila air.
"You mean you are," Jare said, not even looking at me as he checked a notification on his phone.
I stopped walking, squinting at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"You're staying with her. I'm not," Jare said, his voice flat and final.
"Excuse me?" I pulled back my hand
Jare finally looked at me, a small, teasing smirk playing on his lips—the one that usually meant he'd successfully navigated a social situation better than I had. "Tita Serina told me she wants to bond with you. Shopping, wedding talk, spa days... all that pink, fluffy stuff. Do I look like I want to spend my weekends discussing lace patterns and flower arrangements?"
"I like Tita Serina, I won't mind doing all that stuff," I said, shrugging.
But then, the weight of the phone call from last night settled back into my chest. I looked at Jare, my voice dropping. "Did you talk to Mom and Dad? About... knowing the whole bio-mom thing?"
Jare nodded, his expression softening as he leaned against the van door. "I did. I explained to them that you're not mad—and neither am I. They were relieved, honestly. They said they were planning to tell us after our 18th birthday, but because of your fiancé, we got to know about it sooner."
I twisted the diamond ring on my finger, a mix of emotions swirling inside me. "Typical Keifer. Even when he's being honest, he's disrupting the schedule."
"He didn't do it to hurt us, Jay," Jare reminded me. "He did it because he couldn't keep lying. Mom and Dad actually appreciated that he was the one to pull the band-aid off. They're probably already grilling him about it over dinner in London by now."
I looked up at the sky, imagining Keifer sitting at our dining table in Camden, facing the legendary interrogation skills of my father. The thought almost made me giggle. "Poor Keifer. He thinks he went there to handle Watson business, but he's actually walked into a Mariano trap."
"Exactly," Jare laughed, finally shoving me toward the seat. "Now get in. Ci-N is starting to eat the upholstery, and I have a date with a quiet house and some video games."
I climbed into the van, the ring catching the light one last time before the door shut. The air-conditioning hit my face, but it couldn't quite cool the heat still lingering from Keifer's goodbye kiss.
"Jay-Jay," Ci-N said, sounding like he was about to burst into tears.
"What?" I asked
"Look, they're bullying me," Ci-N whined, pointing a shaky finger at Felix and David, who were currently suffocating their laughter in the seat behind him.
"What did they do?" I asked, reaching over and expertly snatching the bag of marshmallows from Ci-N's lap. If I was going to be the mediator, I was getting a tax in sugar.
"They said I'm short, Jay!" Ci-N cried out, looking at me for justice.
"I think that's because you are," Percy interjected from the corner, not even looking up from his phone.
Ci-N's head snapped toward him, his expression going from wounded puppy to offended diva in 0.2 seconds. "You're uncircumcised—don't talk to me!"
Percy slowly put his phone away, his eyes narrowing as he focused on Ci-N.
"You shorty, you can't be talking," Percy shot back, his voice cool and biting.
"Ohh, this is fun!" Felix chirped, leaning over the seat with a wide, toothy grin, practically vibrating with the secondhand drama.
David, ever the mature one—or at least the only one with a functioning brain cell—just shook his head. He looked over at me, his gaze softening as he bypassed the shouting match.
"You okay, Jay?" he asked quietly.
I nodded, clutching the bag of marshmallows like a safety blanket. "I'm fine, David. Just... processing."
"He'll call the second he lands," David assured me. "Or he'll find a way to hack the plane's Wi-Fi just to send you a 'you're mine' text while he's over the ocean. You know how Watson is."
I let out a small, shaky laugh. "Yeah. He'd probably threaten the pilot if the signal went down."
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