JAY JAY POV
The coffee shop was bustling with the mid-evening crowd, a low hum of chatter and clinking spoons that felt like a million miles away from the cold tension at our table. I gripped my caramel cappuccino, the warmth of the cup the only thing keeping my hands from shaking.
Beside me, Keifer was a silent, looming presence. He didn't order anything. He just sat there, his arm draped behind my neck, his fingers occasionally brushing my shoulder as if to remind me—and them—exactly who I belonged to now.
"What do you guys want to talk about?" I asked, my voice clipping short. I didn't want the small talk. I didn't want the pleasantries.
"Jay, see, the thing is..." Mom started, her eyes darting nervously toward Keifer before settling on me. "We're sorry, dear. We should have never ignored you—not for the business—and we definitely shouldn't have ever set an engagement without your consent."
I took a slow sip of my coffee, the sweetness turning to ash in my mouth. "Okay," I said, leaning back. "And what else are you sorry about?"
My father cleared his throat, looking older, more defeated than I remembered. "Jay, ever since you left, the house hasn't been the same. It's... quiet."
"The house was always quiet," I countered, my eyes narrowing. "I just wasn't there to fill the silence for you anymore."
"Jay, Aries barely even talks to us these days," Mom added, her voice trembling with a hint of theatrical grief. "It's like I lost both my kids."
"That's because you did," I said flatly. The words felt heavy, final.
Mom's face flushed, and for a second, the 'repentant mother' mask slipped. "Jay, I don't understand what we did wrong!" her voice rose, drawing a few looks from nearby tables. I felt Keifer's posture stiffen beside me, his hand dropping from the back of the seat to rest firmly on my shoulder.
"It's not our fault that we wanted our daughter's life to be perfect!" Dad cut in, his voice defensive. "We worked hard to give you everything. And the engagement with Yuri? Jay, that was to distract you from Keifer."
"He wasn't good for you back then," my father continued, his voice regaining that condescending edge I had hated my entire life. He looked at Keifer—not as the powerful CEO who could buy and sell his company five times over, but as the boy from years ago. "He was poor and nowhere near where we were. We had a status to maintain, Jay. We couldn't let you throw your life away on someone who had nothing to offer."
I felt the heat rise in my chest, a fierce, protective anger I'd never felt before. I opened my mouth to snap back, but Keifer beat me to it.
He didn't yell. He didn't even lean forward. He just let out a dry, humorless chuckle that sounded like glass breaking.
"Nowhere near where you were?" Keifer repeated, his voice silky and dangerous. He finally looked my father in the eye. "You're right. I had no money, no title, and a name that carried nothing but bad blood. I had absolutely nothing."
He reached over and took my hand, interlacing our fingers on top of the table for them to see.
"But I had more than you ever did," Keifer said, his grip tightening comfortably. "I had the sense to see what she was worth. You had her your entire life and you treated her like an asset to be traded. I had nothing, and yet I would have burned the world down just to see her smile. You had everything, and you used it to make her cry."
My father opened his mouth to protest, but Keifer leaned in, his silver eyes flashing with a lethality that finally shut my dad up.
"You didn't care about her 'perfection,'" Keifer whispered. "You cared about your pride. You couldn't stand the idea of your daughter being with someone you couldn't control. Well, look at us now."
Keifer gestured to the window where the blacked-out SUVs were idling, the guards standing at the perimeter. Then he looked back at my father's trembling hands.
"I'm not that poor boy anymore," Keifer said. "I have the money, the power, and the status you worship so much. And yet, I still wouldn't let you near my family if you were the last people on earth. Because even with all your 'status,' you are the poorest people I've ever met."
I stood up, pulling my sweater over my bump, feeling a strange sense of peace. The man beside me was my shield, but for the first time, I felt like I didn't need to hide behind him. I was strong enough to walk away on my own.
"You heard him," I said, looking at my parents one last time. "You didn't want the poor boy, and now you don't get the man. Or me. Or your grandchild."
I turned to Keifer, my eyes softening. "Let's go. The baby wants more ice cream, and I'm done with the bitter taste in this room."
Keifer stood up, his hand immediately finding the small of my back, guiding me toward the door without a second glance at the two people we left stunned at the table.
"You okay, Jay Jay?" he asked, his voice thick with concern.
I could only nod, my eyes fixed on the dark, velvet sky above. The stars were hidden behind the city's haze, mirroring the way I felt lost in the smog of my own memories. "Can we go home now?" I whispered, my voice sounding like a child's—small, tired, and desperate for safety.
The ride back was a blur of neon lights and shadows. I leaned my head against Keifer's shoulder, the familiar scent of his cologne acting as my only anchor. I had cut ties with them a long time ago, erased their names from my emergency contacts and my daily life, but blood is a heavy thing. It doesn't matter how much they hurt you; they're still the people who gave you your name, even if they never learned how to honor it. It still hurt. It always would.
When we finally reached the villa, I didn't wait for him. I stumbled into our room and took of my clothes nd sliding into one of Keifer's oversized shirts. It was soft, worn-in, and smelled like a sanctuary. I collapsed onto the bed, feeling the sudden, hollow ache of a thousand unspoken apologies.
The bed groaned as Keifer joined me. He didn't say a word—he knew me too well for that. He just curled around me from behind, his large frame acting as a second skin, his arms locking around my waist.
And that was it. The final thread snapped.
I buried my face in the pillow and started to cry. It wasn't just a quiet sob; it was a mourning for the parents I deserved but never had. My shoulders shook with the weight of years of "not being enough," of being a business transaction instead of a daughter.
"Let it out, Jay Jay," Keifer murmured against my neck, his voice a low, soothing rumble that vibrated through my entire body. He pulled me closer, his hand splaying over my stomach, his touch a silent promise to our unborn child. "You're not a Mariano anymore. You're a Watson. And in this family, we don't sell our own. We die for them."
He squeezed me tighter, his strength flowing into me as I wept. "You're home now. And as long as I'm here, the only thing you'll ever have to be is exactly who you are."
The heavy, salt-stained silence of the room lingered as my sobs finally ebbed into shaky breaths. Keifer didn't move an inch, his body a warm, immovable mountain behind me.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice sounding raw and fragile in the quiet.
"For what?" he asked, his voice low, vibrating against my spine.
"For... for everything my parents said. On behalf of them," I said, closing my eyes tightly. Even now, a part of me felt the ghost of a responsibility I should have buried years ago.
Keifer shifted, leaning forward to press a firm, lingering kiss against my forehead. "Don't be. I don't care about them, Jay. Their opinions are just noise to me. The only voice I listen to is yours."
"But Keifer, I should have defended you more, or— " I started, the guilt swirling in my chest, but he didn't let me finish. He leaned over, capturing my lips in a kiss that was both a command and a comfort.
"Stop," he murmured against my mouth when he pulled away. "Don't think about it. The more you dwell on the bad, the worse it is for our kid. Stress isn't invited to this bed."
He sat up slightly, reaching down to gently pull back the hem of his oversized shirt that I was wearing. His large, warm hands settled directly onto the swell of my bump, his touch instantly grounding.
"Tell your mama to stop crying," Keifer said, his voice dropping into a mock-serious tone as he addressed my stomach. "She's crying way too much. Tell her it's making you sad, and if she cries one more time, you're going to come out looking all grumpy like your Uncle Aries."
I let out a startled, watery chuckle and swiped at his shoulder. "Hey! What did my brother do to deserve that?"
Keifer grinned, the shadows of the evening finally lifting from his face. He didn't look like a CEO or a cold protector right now; he just looked like a dad-to-be having a very serious negotiation with a belly.
"He's perennially moody, Jay. You know it," Keifer laughed, then looked back down at my bump with a softened gaze. "But yeah... tell your mom not to cry again."
As if the baby had been eavesdropping on the entire conversation, a sharp, distinct thud pressed against Keifer's palm.
"Keifer!" I breathed, my eyes widening.
"Jay... he just kicked," Keifer said, his voice hushed with a sudden, breathless awe. The tough-guy exterior vanished, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated wonder.
I couldn't help but laugh through the last of my tears as two more tiny, rhythmic kicks followed in quick succession, fluttering against his hand like a secret code.
"See?" Keifer whispered, his eyes locking onto mine, shimmering with a pride that made my heart ache in the best way possible. "Even the little one agrees. No more crying. We've got everything we need right here."
In that moment, with the baby's kicks under his hands and the warmth of his love surrounding me, the voices of my parents faded into nothingness. He was right. We were our own world, and it was a masterpiece.
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