[Jay's POV]
The dining hall had been cleared, but the atmosphere was still thick with the lingering scent of lunch and a dangerous amount of sibling mischief. We had migrated to the sun-drenched lounge, where the floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the frost-covered Watson estate
I was tucked into the corner of the oversized velvet sofa, feeling warm and content. Keifer was sitting right next to me, his arm draped possessively over the back of the couch, looking like a king who had finally reclaimed his throne. But the "throne" was about to be shaken.
Keigan and Keiran exchanged a look—a silent, telepathic communication that only brothers possess. Keigan sat on the rug at our feet, while Keiran perched on the arm of the chair opposite us, a wicked glint in his eyes.
"So, Ate," Keigan started, leaning back on his elbows. "Now that you've officially joined the K-Line as our Ate, we need to update your database. You see Kuya as the 'Chill Prince.' The genius. The perfect engineer."
"The guy who never makes mistakes," Keiran added, giggling behind his hand.
"Stop right there," Keifer warned, his voice dropping into a low growl, though the tips of his ears were already turning pink. "Whatever they're about to tell you, Jay, it's 90% exaggeration and 10% hallucination."
"Oh, really?" Keigan smirked. "Ate, did he ever tell you about the 'Great Drone Disaster' of 2021? He was trying to impress a professor with a prototype, but he messed up the proximity sensors. The drone didn't just fly—it developed a personal vendetta against Mamma's prize-winning gardenias. It chased her across the lawn like a robotic hornet while Kuya was screaming at the remote like a madman."
I bit my lip, trying to suppress a laugh. I looked at Keifer, who had buried his face in his free hand. "A personal vendetta, Keifer?"
"It was a software glitch!" Keifer muffled into his palm.
"And that's not the best one!" Keiran chirped, jumping down to stand in front of me. "Ate, when he was fourteen, he tried to build a 'Super-Soaker 9000' using a pressurized industrial pump from the garage. He told us he was going to revolutionize water fights."
"Oh, no," I whispered, leaning forward, fully invested.
"Oh, yes," Keigan laughed. "He turned it on, the pressure was so high that the nozzle flew off, and the hose started whip-cracking around the driveway like a live snake. He got soaked in three seconds, slipped on the wet concrete, and slid—not walked, slid—all the way down the driveway and right into the trash cans. Pappa found him sitting in a pile of recycling, soaking wet and holding a broken plastic pipe like it was a sacred sword."
I couldn't help it. A burst of laughter escaped me, 100% genuine and loud. The image of the sophisticated, untouchable Keifer Watson sliding into trash cans was more than my logical brain could handle.
"It gets better," Keigan leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Did he tell you about his 'Romantic Phase' in middle school? He tried to write a poem for a girl using binary code. He thought it was 'deep.' The girl thought he was sending her a virus and blocked him on everything."
"Okay, that's enough!" Keifer finally snapped, though he was laughing too, his face a magnificent shade of crimson. He lunged forward, grabbing Keigan in a playful headlock, while Keiran scrambled away, shrieking with laughter.
"It's true, Ate! He's a total dork!" Keiran shouted from behind the safety of the armchair.
I watched them—the three Watson brothers wrestling on the expensive Persian rug, their laughter echoing through the halls of the estate. Keifer looked younger than I'd ever seen him. The weight of being the "perfect heir" had been stripped away by his brothers' teasing, leaving behind just a boy who loved his family.
Keifer finally emerged from the pile of limbs, his hair messy and his shirt untucked. He sat back down beside me, breathless, and looked at me with a sheepish, lopsided grin.
"So," he panted, smoothing back his hair. "I assume my 'Prince' status is now officially revoked?"
I reached over, gently straightening his collar, my eyes soft with affection. "Actually, Keifer, I think I like the 'Super-Soaker 9000' version of you even more. It makes the math of us feel a lot more human."
"See?" Keiran cheered. "Ate loves the dork version! We win!"
As the night turned to midnight the stories continued—each one more embarrassing than the last. I sat there, listening to every word, realizing that for the first time in my life, I wasn't just observing a family. I was part of one. And in this family, the "embarrassing events" weren't weaknesses; they were the threads that held them all together.