Aries's pov
The door creaked open, and I started talking without thinking.
"Jay, you went to—"
I stopped.
The words died in my throat the second I saw her.
She was on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around herself like that was the only thing keeping her together. Her body was shaking—no, trembling—and her face was wet with tears she hadn't bothered to wipe away.
The room felt different. Heavy. Broken.
Before I could say anything, she spoke—voice cracked, hollow.
"So now you'll yell at me too, right?"
She laughed softly, but it wasn't real. It hurt to hear.
"Just say it. I'm used to it now."
That was it.
I crossed the room in a second and dropped down beside her.
"No," I said quickly, pulling her into my arms. "Hey... hey, Jay. Calm down. I'm not mad."
The moment I touched her, she broke.
She clutched my shirt like she was drowning, sobs ripping out of her chest—raw, ugly, the kind of crying that comes from holding everything in for too long. Her whole body shook against mine as she pressed her face into my chest, finally letting herself fall apart.
My chest tightened.
"It's okay," I whispered, rubbing her back slowly, grounding her. "You're safe. I've got you."
She didn't answer.
She just held on tighter.
And I realized no one had asked her to explain. No one had demanded answers. She just needed someone to stay.
After a while, her sobs softened. Her grip on my shirt never loosened.
"Aries," she whispered.
"Hmm?"
"Why can't I stay happy?" Her voice trembled. "Don't I deserve it? Does the universe hate me that much?"
My heart clenched.
"That's not how it works," I said gently. "It's not because you don't deserve happiness."
She swallowed hard.
"Do you know what... I should just die, I—"
I tightened my arms around her immediately.
"Hey. Don't," I said firmly. "Don't say that."
I pulled back just enough to look at her. "You don't deserve to disappear. You deserve happiness. You deserve to live."
Fresh tears welled in her eyes.
"Then why can't I stay happy, Aries? Why?"
I rested my forehead against hers.
"Hey... it's okay," I whispered. "This pain isn't permanent. I promise. You will be happy too."
She didn't respond.
She didn't need to.
She just stayed there, breathing slowly, letting my presence steady her.
After some time, I spoke again.
"That's enough for tonight," I said softly. "You need rest. Come on—lie down."
I helped her up carefully, like she might shatter if I moved too fast, and guided her to the bed. I tucked the blanket around her, making sure she was warm.
I stood up
and felt her fingers wrap around my wrist.
"Please... stay."
I didn't argue.
I sat back down and gently placed her head on my lap, my fingers moving slowly through her hair steady, familiar, safe.
As my fingers moved slowly through her hair, I stared at the ceiling, afraid that if I looked at her too long, the weight in my chest would crush me.
She was already asleep or close to it. Her breathing had evened out, soft and shallow, like she was still afraid the peace might be taken away if she trusted it too much.
I kept stroking her hair, gently, carefully.
She's been through too much.
The thought hit me hard.
People looked at Jay and saw someone brave, someone careful. They never saw the strength it took to survive everything she had. The betrayals. The shouting. The constant fear disguised as "care." The way love in her life always came with pain attached.
She had learned too early how to stay quiet to stay safe.
How to swallow her words.
How to blame herself for other people's anger.
No one should have to learn those things.
My jaw tightened as I thought about all the nights she probably cried alone. All the times she smiled just so no one would ask questions. All the moments she was forced to be strong when all she wanted was to be held.
She deserved happiness.
Not just small moments of peace stolen between storms but real, lasting happiness. The kind that didn't make her flinch at raised voices. The kind that didn't punish her for trusting people. The kind that didn't ask her to sacrifice herself to keep others calm.
She deserved a life where love didn't hurt.
My fingers slowed, brushing her hair with even more care, like she was something precious the world had already damaged enough.
"I'll stay," I thought silently.
"I'll protect this peace at least for tonight."
Her face relaxed further, the tension easing just a little.
And in that quiet room, with her head resting on my lap, I made a promise to myself
No matter how broken the world around her was,
she would never have to face it alone again.
After sometime my hand stilled when I noticed the phone beside her pillow.
The screen lit up again.
And again.
The vibration was soft, almost desperate.
I glanced down without thinking and that's when I saw the name.
King-Bingi
For a second, I frowned.
Who the hell is that?
Another message popped up before I could look away.
King-Bingi: I'm sorry.
King-Bingi: Jay, please answer.
King-Bingi: Let me explain.
King-Bingi: Please... just pick up my call.
My chest tightened.
It didn't take long for the pieces to fall into place.
Keifer.
I exhaled slowly, my fingers unconsciously resuming their gentle movement through her hair.
So that was him.
I stared at the screen longer than I should have, the messages stacking one after another—apologies, explanations, pleas. Not excuses. Not commands.
Begging.
That alone told me something was different.
Keifer was never like this.
He wasn't the type to apologize. Not to friends. Not to enemies. Not to anyone. He was the kind of person who believed actions mattered more than words and even then, he rarely admitted fault.
The only person he ever said sorry to...
...was his mother.
And after she was gone
Keifer stopped apologizing altogether.
I swallowed.
Yet here he was, breaking that rule. Over and over again. For Jay.
My grip tightened slightly, careful not to wake her. The weight of it all settled heavily in my chest.
He really changed, I thought.
Whether it was guilt, fear, or love I didn't know. But whatever had happened between them had cracked something open inside him. Something he had buried the day he lost his mother.
I looked back at Jay's face peaceful for now, lashes still wet from earlier tears.
You affect people more than you realize, I thought quietly.
Even someone like Keifer.
The phone buzzed once more.
Please don't shut me out.
I gently turned the screen face down.
Not to protect Keifer.
But to protect her.
For tonight, she deserved rest. Not explanations. Not apologies. Not more pain disguised as love.
Just peace.
After some time, when the room had gone completely quiet, I carefully shifted my weight.
I thought she was deep asleep.
I slowly tried to slide my hand away from her hair, moving as gently as possible so I wouldn't wake her. I leaned forward, ready to stand
Her fingers tightened suddenly around my wrist.
"Don't leave," she whispered, her voice rough with sleep.
I froze.
I looked down.
Her eyes were half-open, glassy, still heavy with exhaustion, but filled with fear—like she'd just woken up from something bad.
"Sleep with me," she said softly. "Please."
My chest clenched.
"Jay..." I hesitated. "You're safe now. I'll be right here—"
She shook her head weakly, gripping my wrist tighter, like I might disappear if she loosened her hold.
"Please," she whispered again. "Just tonight. I don't want to be alone."
That did it.
I exhaled slowly and nodded. "Okay. I'm not going anywhere."
Relief washed over her face instantly.
I adjusted myself carefully, lying down beside her, keeping just enough distance so she wouldn't feel overwhelmed. The moment I settled, she turned toward me, curling closer without thinking, her forehead resting against my chest.
Her breathing slowly evened out again.
I wrapped an arm around her gently, careful, protective.
"It's okay," I murmured. "Sleep."
She relaxed completely this time, her fingers loosening around my shirt as sleep claimed her again.
I stayed awake a little longer, staring at the ceiling, listening to her steady breathing.
And I knew
Tonight, I wasn't leaving.
Not until she felt safe enough to wake up without fear.
Keifer's POV
The gate closed behind her.
The sound was soft but it felt like something snapping inside my chest.
I stood there for a long second, staring at the door like it might open again. Like she might come back and say she didn't mean it. Like she might give me one more chance to speak.
She didn't.
I dragged a hand through my hair and laughed under my breath—short, bitter, empty.
You did it again.
I turned back to the car, my steps heavy. The street was quiet, too quiet, like the world was holding its breath just to watch me fall apart. I leaned against the hood, then slammed my fist into it once.
Hard.
Pain shot up my arm, but it wasn't enough. It never was.
"Idiot," I muttered.
I had promised her.
I promised I wouldn't let my anger control me again. I promised I'd listen. I promised I'd be better.
And yet the moment I saw her standing outside his house, something ugly woke up inside me. Fear twisted into rage. Love into possession. Concern into control.
I pulled my phone out.
No signal issues. No excuses.
Just silence.
I scrolled up the chat.
Jay, I'm sorry.
Please answer.
Let me explain.
Please...
Nothing.
I typed again, my fingers shaking despite myself.
I didn't mean what I said.
I was scared.
I never wanted to hurt you.
Sent.
Still nothing.
I stared at the screen until it dimmed.
I wasn't used to this.
I wasn't used to apologizing especially not like this. Begging. Repeating myself. Stripping my pride down to nothing. The last person I ever said "sorry" to was my mother.
And after she died, I stopped.
Because apologies didn't bring people back.
Because regret didn't fix anything.
Because anger was easier than grief.
But Jay...
Jay made me want to try anyway.
I slid into the driver's seat and rested my forehead against the steering wheel. My hands were still shaking. My chest felt tight, like I couldn't get a full breath in.
What if I really lost her this time?
The thought scared me more than anything else ever had.
I remembered her face when she cried. The way her voice broke when she said I'd break my promise again. The way she turned away before I could stop her.
She didn't even scream.
That hurt more.
I started the car, but I didn't drive right away. I just sat there, engine running, phone in my hand, staring at her name.
I had fought enemies without fear.
I had made decisions that ended lives.
I had stood in blood and chaos without blinking.
But losing her?
That terrified me.
"I'll fix this," I whispered to the empty car. "I don't care how long it takes."
Even if she hated me.
Even if she shut me out.
Even if I had to break myself to do it.
Because this time
I wasn't apologizing out of habit.
I was apologizing because I meant it.
Because
It was for jay
MY JAY.💖