[Jay's POV]
The afternoon had settled into a rhythmic, domestic peace that I was still trying to mentally process. After the intense teasing at lunch, the estate had quieted down. Pappa Keizer had retreated to the library to handle some overseas documents, and Keifer was lounging in the living room, though I could feel his gaze tracking me every time I moved past the doorway
I had followed Mamma Serina into the expansive, sun-drenched kitchen. She was intent on preparing a traditional Watson family dessert—something with spun sugar and delicate cream—and I had offered to help. There was something incredibly grounding about the tactile nature of the kitchen; it was a different kind of chemistry, one that didn't involve structural integrity or mechanical stress, but the warmth of a home.
You have a natural steady hand, Jay," Mamma Serina remarked, watching me precisely measure out ingredients. "It's the sign of a true engineer—or a very patient heart."
I smiled softly, feeling a flush of genuine pride. "I think I just like it when things are in balance, Mamma."
We were standing by the marble island, the atmosphere peaceful and light, when the stillness of the estate was suddenly shattered.
BANG!
The heavy, soundproofed front doors didn't just open; they burst against the interior walls with a reverberation that shook the crystal chandelier in the foyer. My heart skipped a beat, my instincts immediately jumping to "threat mode." I gripped the edge of the counter, my eyes darting toward the hallway.
Then came the sound of running—not the measured, professional footsteps of the estate staff, but the heavy, chaotic thudding of boots hitting the marble at full speed. Two voices, young and full of an explosive, untamed energy, began to echo through the house.
"PAPPA! WE'RE HOME!"
I stood frozen as I watched the scene unfold through the wide kitchen archway. Two boys, looking like whirlwind versions of the Watson DNA, sprinted into the library. I saw Pappa Keizer—the man who could silence a boardroom with a single glance—actually drop his fountain pen as he was engulfed by two sets of flying arms. They collided with him, shouting "Pappa!" with a ferocity that would have knocked a lesser man over. Pappa didn't scold them; he let out a rare, booming laugh, ruffling their hair with an expression of pure, unadulterated joy.
But they didn't stop there.
They spun around and spotted Keifer, who had stood up from the couch. "KUYA!" they roared in unison.
Before Keifer could even put up a "Chill Prince" defense, they tackled him. It was a chaotic mess of limbs and laughter. They hugged him with a rough, brotherly intensity, hanging off his shoulders and shouting his name. Keifer was grinning, his usual composure completely demolished as he wrestled with them, trying to maintain his balance while they.bombarded him with updates about their journey.
My breath hitched in my chest. Brothers. Keifer had never mentioned they were coming home today.
Then, as if they had sensed the center of the household's gravity, they turned their attention toward the kitchen.
"MUMMA!"
They charged. I instinctively stepped back, my back hitting the refrigerator, as the two boys blurred past me. They hit Mamma Serina like twin bolts of lightning, wrapping their arms around her waist and shoulders, nearly lifting her off her feet.
"Oh! My goodness! Slow down, you two!" Mamma laughed, her eyes bright with tears as she pulled them close, kissing their foreheads and squeezing them tight. "Look at you! You've grown another inch! My beautiful boys!"
They were babbling a mile a minute, calling her "Mumma" with every other breath, their faces glowing with the thrill of being back in the fortress.
I stood in the corner, a silent observer to this explosion of family love. The dynamic was so different from the Marianos—there was no competition here, no cold expectations, just a raw, loud, and messy affection that filled every corner of the room.
Finally, the chaos began to settle, if only by a fraction. One of the boys, the taller of the two, stopped talking mid-sentence. His eyes drifted away from Mamma Serina and landed directly on me. Then the second one turned, his expression shifting from excitement to a sudden, intense curiosity.
The kitchen went quiet. The only sound was the bubbling of the sugar on the stove. I felt my face heat up as four Watson eyes—so much like Keifer's, yet full of a youthful mischief—began to scan me from head to toe.
"Whoa," the younger one whispered, his eyes widening.
I looked at Mamma Serina, then at the two boys who were still practically vibrating with energy, and then toward the doorway where Keifer was standing, leaning against the frame with a look of immense, protective pride.
The "Watson-Jay Constant" had just gained two very loud, very energetic new variables.