[Jay's POV]
The Watson Estate had officially shifted into what I could only describe as "Operation: Protect the Empress."
I had never experienced anything like it. In the Mariano household, "rest" was seen as a weakness, a lapse in productivity. But here, the entire family had organized themselves into a high-functioning support system focused entirely on my well-being.
I was currently "marooned" on the massive velvet sectional in the living room, buried under a mountain of cashmere throws that Mamma Serina had insisted on layering over me.
"The body needs to maintain a consistent core temperature during recovery, Jay," she had said with a wink before heading to the kitchen to oversee a special "restorative" broth.
The Brotherly Guard
Keigan and Keiran had taken it upon themselves to be my personal stewards—though their methods were a bit... chaotic.
Keigan was currently busy adjusting the ottoman under my feet for the fifth time. "Is the angle optimal, Ate? I can calculate the elevation for maximum blood flow if you want. We can't have you getting a cramp while Kuya isn't looking."
"I'm fine, Keigan, really," I laughed, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the attention.
"Nonsense!" Keiran chirped, scurrying into the room with a silver tray. He had three different types of juice, a bowl of sliced fruit arranged in a perfect circle, and—for some reason—his favorite stuffed dinosaur. "Here, Ate! Mamma says you need vitamins. And Rexy is here to protect you from Kuya if he tries to be too clingy again."
I reached out, patting Keiran's head. "Thank you, Keiran. Rexy is a very brave guard."
The Paternal Quiet
Pappa Keizer was sitting in his armchair nearby. He wasn't hovering, but every few minutes, he would look up from his newspaper, check the level of water in my glass, and give a small, approving nod.
"The house is yours to command today, Jay," he said, his voice deep and comforting. "If the boys become too loud, simply tell me. I have no problem sending them to the training grounds to shovel snow."
"HEY!" Keigan protested, but one look from Pappa silenced him.
The "Grumpy Prince" Protector
Then, there was Keifer.
He hadn't left my side for more than five minutes. He was sitting right next to me, his laptop balanced on his knees, pretending to work, but I knew he was just monitoring my breathing. Every time I shifted, his hand would instantly find mine under the blankets, checking my pulse or just making sure I was still there.
"You're staring again, Keifer," I whispered, leaning my head on his shoulder.
"I'm observing the recovery process," he corrected me, though he closed his laptop and pulled me closer. He leaned down, his voice dropping so the others couldn't hear. "You really do look radiant, Jay. But Mamma is right. You're staying right here. I've already told the Squad we aren't joining the voice chat tonight. This is a 100% offline day."
The Final Integration
By mid-afternoon, the kitchen staff had brought out a light, nutritious meal. Mamma Serina sat at the edge of the sofa, hand-feeding me small pieces of dark chocolate "for the serotonin," while Keifer held my tea.
I looked around the room—at the boys arguing over which movie to put on for me, at Pappa Keizer's quiet watchfulness, and at Mamma's maternal warmth. I realized that this wasn't just about me being "exhausted" from last night. This was their way of saying that I wasn't an outsider anymore.
I was a Watson. And Watsons took care of their own.
"Data analysis complete," I murmured, my voice thick with emotion.
"And?" Keifer asked, kissing my temple.
"The Watson-Jay Constant has reached a state of perfect equilibrium. I think I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."