MARRY YOUR KILLER
Chapter Fifty-Seven: The Letter
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The morning came gray and cold.
Jay sat at the window of her room, her shoulder still bandaged, her hand empty. The garden was bare. The flowers had died. The steps where she had sat with Keifer were covered in frost. Winter had come to Manila, cold and unexpected, the way things came when you least expected them.
Keifer was still sleeping. His face was soft. His hands were still. She watched him for a long time. The rise and fall of his chest. The way his hair fell across his forehead. The scar on his chest, white against his skin, the bullet that had almost taken him from her.
She had taken a bullet for him. She had almost died for him. She would do it again. She would do it a hundred times. She would do it for the rest of her life.
But the letter had come at dawn.
It was on the doorstep when she opened the door. White envelope. No return address. Her name written in handwriting she didn't recognize. She had opened it standing in the hallway, the cold seeping through her clothes, her breath fogging in the air.
Jasper Jean Mariano Watson,
If you want to save your husband's life, you will do exactly as I say. You will not tell anyone about this letter. You will not tell Keifer. You will not tell your friends. You will not tell your family. If you tell anyone, he will die.
You will leave him. You will break his heart. You will make him believe you never loved him. You will make him believe the contract was the only truth. You will walk away and you will not look back.
If you do this, he will live. If you do not, he will die. The choice is yours.
You have one week.
She had read the letter three times. Four times. Her hands were steady. Her face was calm. Her heart was breaking.
She had burned it in the kitchen sink. The paper curled. The ink faded. The words turned to ash. She watched them disappear. She watched the evidence of what she had to do float away with the smoke.
No one saw. No one knew.
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Keifer woke at noon.
He found her at the window, her back to the room, her hands at her sides. The garden was bare. The sky was gray. She was wearing black, the same black she had worn when she first came to his house, when she was a stranger, when she was an enemy.
He came up behind her. His arms went around her waist. His face was in her hair.
"You're awake early," he said.
She didn't answer.
He pulled her closer. "Jay."
She turned. Her face was calm. Her eyes were steady. "I need to talk to you."
His hands fell. His face changed. "What is it?"
She walked to the desk. She opened the drawer. She pulled out the contract. The one she had torn. The one she had burned. The one she had kept. She had put it back together, piece by piece, tape and paper and promises she had made and broken and made again.
She laid it on the desk. His face went white.
"What is this?" he asked.
She looked at him. Her face was calm. Her eyes were not. "I want a divorce."
The room went still. The world went still. Everything went still.
"What did you say?" His voice was low. His hands were shaking.
She looked at the contract. At the pieces she had taped together. At the promise she had made to leave.
"I signed this contract because I was scared," she said. "I was scared of wanting something I couldn't keep. I was scared of loving someone who would leave. I was scared of—"
He walked to her. His hands were on her face. His eyes were steady. "Jay. Look at me."
She looked at him. His face was close. His eyes were bright. The man she loved. The man she had to destroy.
"What is this?" he asked. "What is this really?"
She pulled away. Her hands were shaking. Her face was calm. "I can't do this anymore. The war. The fighting. The people trying to kill us. I can't—"
"You took a bullet for me." His voice was cracking. "You took a bullet for me three weeks ago. You almost died for me. You—"
She turned away. Her back was to him. Her hands were at her sides.
"I did it because I didn't want to be alone," she said. "I did it because I didn't want to lose the only person who understood. I did it because—"
"Because you love me." He was behind her. His hands were on her arms. His voice was low. "You love me, Jay. I know you love me."
She closed her eyes. Her hands were shaking. Her heart was breaking.
"I don't," she said.
He pulled her close. His arms were around her. His face was in her hair. "You're lying. You're lying and I don't know why. But you're lying."
She pulled away. Her face was calm. Her eyes were empty. "I'm not lying. I signed a contract. Two years. Then I leave. That was the plan. That was always the plan."
He stared at her. His face was white. His hands were empty. "You tore up the contract. You put the ring back on. You told me you loved me. You told me—"
She took off the ring. It was gold. Thin. A circle that meant everything. She laid it on the desk beside the contract.
"I was wrong," she said.
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He didn't speak.
He stood in the study, his hands at his sides, his face white, his eyes on the ring. The ring he had put on her finger. The ring she had taken off and put back on and taken off again. The ring that was supposed to mean forever.
She walked to the door. Her steps were steady. Her face was calm. Her heart was breaking.
"Jay," he said.
She stopped. She didn't turn.
"Whatever this is," he said, "whatever they told you, whatever they're holding over you—we can fight it. Together. We can always fight it together."
Her hand was on the door. Her knuckles were white. Her eyes were wet.
"Goodbye, Keifer," she said.
She walked out of the room.
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The hallway was empty.
She walked to her room. Her steps were steady. Her face was calm. She closed the door. She leaned against it. Her hands were shaking. Her face was wet. She slid down to the floor. She pulled her knees to her chest. She cried.
No one heard. No one saw. No one knew.
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Percy found Keifer in the study.
He was standing at the window, his back to the room, his hands in his pockets. The contract was on the desk. The ring was beside it.
Percy saw them. His face went white. "Keifer. What is this?"
Keifer didn't turn. "She wants a divorce."
Percy walked to him. He stood beside him. "What? Why? She took a bullet for you. She almost died for you. She—"
Keifer looked at him. His face was calm. His eyes were not. "She said she made a mistake. She said she was wrong. She said she didn't love me."
Percy stared at him. "You don't believe that."
Keifer looked at the window. At the garden. At the steps where they had sat. At the place where she had told him she loved him. At the place where she had chosen him.
"I don't know what I believe anymore," he said.
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The days passed.
Jay moved through the house like a ghost. She spoke to no one. She looked at no one. She ate in her room. She slept in her room. She stayed in her room.
Percy knocked on her door. She didn't answer. Aries knocked. She didn't answer. Ci N knocked. She didn't answer.
Ella sat outside her door for an hour. She didn't come out.
Care brought her food. She left it outside. It was still there in the morning. Cold. Uneaten.
Lyra stood in the hallway. Her face was blank. Her hands were steady. She didn't knock. She didn't need to. She knew.
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Keifer sat in the study.
He didn't eat. He didn't sleep. He stared at the ring. He stared at the contract. He stared at the door where she had walked out.
Percy brought him food. He didn't eat. Aries brought him coffee. He didn't drink. Ci N sat with him. He didn't speak.
"She's lying," Percy said. "She's lying and you know it."
Keifer didn't answer.
"She took a bullet for you. She almost died for you. She—"
"I know," Keifer said. His voice was empty. "She took a bullet for me. And now she's leaving. I don't know why. I don't know what happened. But she's leaving."
Percy looked at the ring. At the contract. At the man who was falling apart.
"Then ask her," Percy said. "Make her tell you."
Keifer looked at him. His face was tired. His eyes were dark. "She won't."
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The fifth day, Jay came out of her room.
She was wearing black. Her hair was pinned up. Her face was calm. She walked to the study. She opened the door.
Keifer was there. He was sitting at the desk, the ring in his hand, the contract in front of him. He looked up when she walked in. His face was pale. His eyes were dark.
"Jay," he said.
She walked to the desk. She stood in front of him. Her face was calm. Her hands were steady.
"I came to say goodbye," she said.
He stood up. His hands were empty. His face was close. "Jay. Please. Whatever this is—whatever they told you—let me help you. Let me fight with you. Let me—"
She shook her head. "There's nothing to fight. There's nothing to help. I made a mistake. I thought I could be someone I'm not. I thought I could love someone. I thought—"
"You do love me." His voice was low. His eyes were wet. "You love me. I know you love me."
She looked at him. The enemy. The stranger. The man she had married. The man she loved. The man she had to destroy.
"I don't," she said.
She walked to the door. Her steps were steady. Her face was calm. Her heart was breaking.
"Jay." His voice cracked. "Please."
She opened the door. She walked out. She didn't look back.
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The hallway was empty.
She walked to the front door. Her bags were there. She had packed them that morning, before anyone woke up, before the sun rose, before she could change her mind.
Percy was at the door. His face was white. His hands were shaking.
"Jay. Please. Whatever this is—we can fix it. We can fix anything. Just—"
She walked to him. She touched his face. His skin was warm. His eyes were wet.
"Take care of him," she said.
He grabbed her hand. "Jay. Please. Don't do this. Don't leave him. Don't leave us. Don't leave—"
She pulled away. She walked out the door. She didn't look back.
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The car was waiting.
Freya was at the wheel. Her face was calm. Her hands were steady. She didn't ask questions. She didn't need to. She knew.
Jay got in. She closed the door. The house was behind her. Keifer was behind her. Her life was behind her.
"Where to?" Freya asked.
Jay looked at the house. At the windows. At the steps where she had sat with him. At the garden where she had laughed. At the home she was leaving.
"Anywhere," Jay said. "Just drive."
Freya pulled away. The house disappeared. The street disappeared. The city disappeared. Everything disappeared.
Jay sat in the passenger seat. Her hands were empty. Her face was calm. Her heart was gone.
She had saved him. That was all that mattered. She had saved him.
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END OF CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN