The Two-Year Promise
[Jay's POV]
Sunday morning didn't arrive with an alarm clock or a deadline. It arrived with the smell of jasmine drifting through the open balcony doors and the soft, steady rhythm of Keifer's breathing.
The house was quiet. No business meetings, no Mariano threats, no frantic study sessions. Just the hazy, golden light of a Sunday in the Watson Estate. I stayed still for a long time, watching the way the light caught the blue stone on my finger.
Last night, amidst the chaos of horror movies and candlelight, we had made a decision. A big one.
"You're thinking again," Keifer murmured, his voice thick with sleep. He didn't open his eyes, but his arm tightened around my waist, pulling me closer until my back was flush against his chest. "I can hear the gears turning, Jay. Stop calculating."
"I was just thinking about the timeline," I whispered, turning in his arms to face him.
He opened one eye, a lazy, beautiful smile spreading across his face. "The two-year plan?"
"The two-year plan," I confirmed.
We had talked to Mamma and Pappa late last night. As much as Mamma wanted to start picking out flower arrangements and booking cathedrals, Keifer and I knew what we wanted. We wanted to stand at that altar not just as heirs or survivors, but as graduates. As professionals. As two people who had conquered their own lives before merging them.
"Two years of being your fiancée," I said, my hand tracing the line of his jaw. "Two years of late-night labs, internship stress, and seeing you in the cafeteria every day."
"Two years of me being able to tell everyone on campus that the smartest girl in the university is officially off-market," Keifer countered, his grin widening. "I think I can handle the wait if you can."
The Lazy Garden Strategy
By 11:00 AM, we had migrated to the garden pavilion. It was a "Lazy Sunday," but for two geniuses, laziness was a relative term. We were sprawled out on a giant outdoor daybed, surrounded by pillows, a tray of iced coffee, and—inevitably—our textbooks.
"So," Keifer said, leaning back and propping his head up with his hands. "Since the wedding is postponed until after graduation, we have exactly 730 days to become the most powerful duo in the engineering department. That's a lot of time for 'collaboration'."
"Is that what you're calling it?" I laughed, looking up from my tablet. "Collaboration?"
"It sounds more professional than 'dating'," he teased.
I looked out at the sprawling green lawns of the estate. The pressure that had been crushing me for years—the pressure to be perfect for the Marianos—had evaporated. Now, I was working for us.
"Mamma was actually surprisingly okay with it," I noted, remembering Serina's reaction last night.
"She loves a long engagement," Keifer said, reaching over to steal a sip of my coffee. "She says it gives her more time to 'curate' the guest list. Pappa is just happy he doesn't have to pay for a wedding during the fiscal year of the merger. But mostly... they're just happy you're here, Jay. For good."
"I'm not going anywhere," I promised.
The Sunday Pact
[Keifer's POV]
I watched Jay as she dove back into her notes. She looked so different than the girl I had met on the bus. The sharp, defensive edges had softened, replaced by a quiet, focused confidence.
Two years.
It seemed like a long time to wait to call her my wife, but as I watched her solve a complex calculus problem while humming a song Mamma had been playing earlier, I realized it was the right move. I wanted her to have her moment on that graduation stage without any shadows. I wanted her to know that she earned her degree on her own merit, supported by a family that actually loved her.
"Jay," I said softly.
She looked up, her glasses sliding slightly down her nose. "Yeah?"
"No matter how hard the next two years get—no matter how much your father tries to interfere or how stressed we get with finals—we do it together. No more secrets. No more 'I'm a burden' nonsense."
She smiled—a real, radiant smile that made the sun look dim. She reached out, her hand finding mine across the mess of papers.
"Together," she agreed. "The Watson Decree: Version 2.0."
"I like the sound of that," I said, pulling her hand to my lips and kissing the ring.
The Sunday morning was lazy, and the wedding was a distant, beautiful star on the horizon. But as we sat there in the heart of the Watson sanctuary, I knew the next two years weren't just a waiting period. They were the foundation.
And a foundation built on this kind of love? It was never going to break.