KEIFER POV
Oh god.
I thought I could keep it to myself, bury it deep, but of course secrets like this don't stay hidden. They explode at the worst possible time.
She ran to the bathroom, and now all I could hear were her sobs echoing through the door. Each sound cut into me like a blade.
I can't see her like that. I can't bear it.
I got out of the bed, pulling on my clothes with shaking hands.
I walked to the door, my chest tight, my heart pounding.
I knocked gently at first. "Jay, please open the door," I whispered, my voice breaking.
No response.
Just silence… and then another sob that shattered me.
I pressed my forehead against the door, closing my eyes.
"Jay, if you don't open the door, I will break it," I said, my voice trembling between fear and desperation.
Still nothing.
I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to kick the door down.
Because right now, I didn't care about walls or locks.
I only cared about her—about holding her, about making her believe she wasn't alone in this pain.
"Jay…" I whispered again, softer this time, almost pleading. "Don't shut me out. Please. I can't lose you too."
The door creaked open, and there she was—eyes red and puffy, cheeks streaked with tears.
My heart broke all over again.
I pulled her into my arms instantly, holding her as if I could glue the pieces of her back together.
"Why, Keifer? Why didn't you tell me before?" she asked, her voice trembling, her arms tightening around me.
I sank into her shoulder, my own tears spilling freely. "I'm sorry… I didn't want to lose you too," I whispered, my voice cracking. "You were already weak, and I didn't want to take the chances. I thought if I carried it alone, maybe you wouldn't have to."
Her sobs shook against me, and I held her tighter, desperate to keep her from slipping away.
But I knew—no matter how strong my arms were, I couldn't shield her from this pain.
"I should have told you," I admitted, my voice breaking. "I should have trusted you to face it with me. I was scared, Jay. Scared of watching you break… and scared of breaking myself."
She pulled back just enough to look at me, her eyes shining with grief and anger."You don't get to carry this alone, Keifer," she said, her voice raw. "It was ours. Our baby. Our loss."
Her words cut deep, sharper than any blade.
And all I could do was nod, my chest aching, my voice trembling.
"You're right. I broke that promise. But I swear to you now—no more secrets. Not ever again. We'll carry this together, even if it destroys me."
I pressed my forehead against hers, both of us shaking, both of us broken.
She hugged me again
Her sobs softened against my chest, but each one still tore through me.
I closed my eyes, sinking into her embrace, wishing I could erase the pain I caused.
But I couldn't.
All I could do was hold her.
After a long silence, I pulled back, brushing a tear from her cheek. "Let's go and eat something," I said gently, my voice low, careful.
She nodded, her eyes still swollen, her face pale.
It wasn't agreement so much as surrender—like she didn't have the strength to argue anymore.
I wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders and guided her out of the bathroom.
The air between us was heavy, but the simple act of moving, of choosing something ordinary, felt like the only way forward.
"Wear your clothes," I said softly.
She blushed a little, her cheeks still streaked from tears, and nodded.
That tiny flicker of color on her face felt like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
I couldn't help but smile, even through the ache in my chest.
"Don't think blushing gets you out of breakfast duty," I teased gently, trying to coax her back into something normal.
She shot me a look, half‑annoyed, half‑shy.
"You're impossible," she muttered, pulling the blanket tighter before slipping away to change.
I watched her go, my heart twisting.
She was fragile, broken, but still here.
Still mine.
And I knew—every small step mattered.
When she returned, dressed and quieter now, I reached for her hand.
"Come on," I said, squeezing it lightly. "Let's eat together. Just us."
Her fingers tightened around mine, and though her eyes were still red, there was a spark there—tiny, but real.
And for the first time since the truth shattered us, I felt hope.
We went to the table, the silence between us heavy but no longer unbearable.
I busied myself in the kitchen, whisking eggs, dipping bread, letting the rhythm of cooking steady my hands.
She sat quietly on the chair, her eyes following me but saying nothing.
When I was done, I plated the french toast, the smell of cinnamon and butter filling the room. I carried it over, sat beside her, and without a word, I picked up the fork.
"Here," I said softly, cutting a piece and lifting it to her lips.
She blinked at me, surprised, her cheeks flushing faintly.
But she leaned forward, taking the bite.
I watched her chew slowly, her eyes glistening, and for a moment, I saw something fragile but real—trust. Not forgiveness yet, not healing, but the smallest step toward it.
I smiled faintly, feeding her another piece. "See? Sweet things for my sweet girl," I whispered, trying to lighten the air.
She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth curved upward, just barely.
And that tiny smile was enough to remind me: even broken, even grieving, we still had each other.
She took the fork from my hands and started to feed me, her movements slow but deliberate. Her eyes locked on mine, sharp even through the redness of her tears.
"Is this the only secret you're hiding from me?" she asked, her voice low, testing me.
I nodded, swallowing the bite she gave me. "Yes."
"Are you telling the truth?" she pressed, her gaze unwavering.
"Yep," I said, forcing a small smile, though my chest still ached.
She narrowed her eyes, lifting the fork like a weapon. "It better be, because if it's not, I will stab you with this fork."
Despite everything—the grief, the heaviness—I couldn't help but let out a shaky laugh.
"That's the most Jay‑Jay thing you could say right now," I murmured, leaning closer.
Her lips twitched, the faintest ghost of a smile breaking through her pain.
And in that fragile moment, I realized: even shattered, even grieving, she still had fire in her.
And maybe that fire was what would save us both.
I reached for her hand, gently lowering the fork. "Then I'll make sure you never have to use it," I whispered.
When she was done feeding me, she leaned back with that dangerous little glint in her eye.
"Now for your punishment," she said.
I blinked, confused. "What punishment?"
"For keeping a secret from me," she said, her tone sharp but her lips curling into that dangerous little smile.
I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. "Jay‑Jay… you can't be serious."
"Oh, I'm very serious," she replied, crossing her arms like a queen handing down a sentence. "Two days. No touching me. Not unless I touch you first."
My jaw dropped. "Jay, that's torture."
She tilted her head sweetly, her eyes glinting. "Then consider it justice."
I leaned closer, smirking despite myself. "And what if I don't follow your rule?"
Her smile widened, deceptively soft. "Then it extends to a week."
My smirk vanished instantly. "Jay…" I groaned, my voice low, defeated.
She laughed lightly, the sound fragile but real, and for the first time since the storm of truth
I realized—her punishment wasn't just about control.
It was her way of making sure I understood the weight of my choices.
And maybe… her way of reminding me that even broken, she still held the power to keep me in line.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
🎭⚡ Author's Note ⚡🎭
Okay everyone… how was that chapter? 🤯🍿
Drop your thoughts in the comments—I want to feel your shock, your wild theories, and your emotions 🎤🔥.
Now tell me… what should Jay do during Keifer's punishment? 🌀💔
A little quote you guys can hold onto:
"Her defiance will spark a fire that even Keifer won't be able to control…" ⚡🔥
Get ready—the storm is about to turn into an inferno 🌪️💥.