The London Departure
[Jay's POV]
The house felt cold at 4:00 AM.
I stood in the grand foyer, wrapped in a thick cardigan, watching the staff move like ghosts as they loaded heavy leather suitcases into the back of a black SUV. The rain was drumming against the Manila pavement outside, a rhythmic, somber sound that matched the sinking feeling in my chest.
"I hate that you're leaving," I whispered.
Keifer turned away from the car, his face illuminated by the dim garden lights. He was dressed in a sharp, navy blue suit—the "Watson Heir" uniform. He looked older, more serious, and devastatingly handsome. He walked toward me, ignoring the fact that his father was already in the backseat checking his watch.
"It's just three days, Jay," he said, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His fingers were cold from the rain, but his touch was steady. "The London textile merger hit a snag. My father needs me there to handle the data-integrity side of the contract. It's part of the 'Watson Decree'—business waits for no one."
"I know," I said, trying to force a smile. "Go. Save the empire. I'll be here with the textbooks."
Jay." He stepped closer, dropping his voice so the drivers couldn't hear. "Mamma is here. The security team is on high alert. If your father or brothers so much as breathe in the direction of this gate, I'll know. You're safe."
He leaned down, and for a fleeting second, I thought this was it—the kiss that had been interrupted three times already. But he stopped, his forehead resting against mine, a silent, intimate promise.
"Study hard. Don't let Erdix distract you with memes on the group chat. And... miss me a little?"
"I already do," I confessed.
"Keifer! The private jet doesn't wait for 'goodbyes'!" Pappa (Keizer) called out from the car, though his voice held a hint of amusement.
Keifer squeezed my hand one last time, turned, and disappeared into the rain. As the SUV rolled down the driveway and the iron gates hissed shut, the silence of the estate felt deafening.
The Afternoon of the Women
By noon, the house was a different kind of quiet. With the "Watson Men" gone, the energy shifted. It wasn't about power or business anymore; it was about sanctuary.
I was in the library, staring at a complex diagram of neural networks, but my mind kept drifting to a flight tracker app on my phone.
"He's currently over the Bay of Bengal," a soft voice said from the doorway.
I looked up. Mamma (Serina) was standing there, holding two steaming mugs of hot cocoa topped with an aggressive amount of marshmallows. She was wearing a silk robe and leggings, looking relaxed and radiant.
"Is it that obvious?" I asked, sheepishly closing the app.
"I spent twenty-five years watching that red dot on a map every time Keizer traveled," she laughed, walking over and handing me a mug. "It doesn't get easier, but the reunions get better. Now, move those books. We're having a 'No-Genius' afternoon."
"A what?"
"A No-Genius afternoon," she repeated, sitting on the rug and gesturing for me to join her. "No equations. No Game Theory. No Mariano expectations. Just us."
For the next few hours, we didn't study. We talked.
Serina told me about the early days of her marriage—how the Watsons and the Marianos were always at odds, and how she had to fight to keep her own identity in a world of billionaires.
"Your mother, Jeena... she was always so afraid of losing," Serina said, staring into her cocoa. "She thought that if she wasn't the most powerful woman in the room, she was nothing. She never realized that real power comes from being loved, not being feared."
"She doesn't know how to love," I whispered. "She only knows how to manage."
"Then let me show you the difference," Serina said.
She spent the afternoon teaching me things my mother never had. We didn't talk about stocks; we talked about how to tell when someone is lying, how to choose a scent that makes you feel brave, and how to know when a boy like Keifer is truly, deeply in love with you.
He's never looked at anyone the way he looks at you, Jay," she said, her eyes soft. "Not even his first girlfriend in high school. With you, he isn't the 'Chill Prince.' He's just a man who found his missing piece."
I felt a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the cocoa.
The Midnight Call
That night, the Blue Suite felt too large. I lay in the center of the bed, my laptop open, waiting.
At 2:00 AM, my phone buzzed. FaceTime: Keifer.
I swiped it immediately. His face filled the screen—he was in the back of a car, the streetlights of London blurring past the window behind him. He looked exhausted, his tie loosened and his hair a mess.
"You're awake," he said, his voice crackling through the international connection.
"I couldn't sleep. How is London?"
"Cold. Grey. Boring," he grunted. "The board members are eighty-year-old men who think 'Quantum' is a brand of dish soap. I spent four hours explaining data encryption to a guy who still uses a fax machine."
I laughed, the sound echoing in my quiet room. "The burden of being a genius, Keifer."
"I miss you, Jay," he said, his voice softening. He leaned his head back against the seat, staring into the camera with an intensity that made my heart ache. "I went to grab a coffee earlier and I saw a girl in a hoodie who looked like you from behind. I almost called out your name before I remembered you were seven thousand miles away."
"I miss you too," I said. "Mamma and I had a 'No-Genius' afternoon. She told me about the time you tried to dye your hair silver in middle school."
Keifer groaned, covering his eyes. "She's a traitor. I'm cutting off her Netflix access."
"She loves you, Keifer. And... she's taking really good care of me."
"I know she is," he whispered. "Stay safe, Jay. I'll be home in forty-eight hours. And when I get back... no interruptions. I don't care who calls."
We stayed on the line for another hour, not even talking, just listening to the sound of each other's breathing across the ocean. When I finally drifted off to sleep, the phone still glowing on my pillow, I realized that the "Two-Week Study Holiday" wasn't just about the exams.
It was about realizing that no matter where we were—Manila or London—the Watson Decree was unbreakable.