Jay-Jay's POV
The morning sun poured through the glass walls of SE Tower, turning the city skyline into a gold-tinted illusion. I sat behind my desk, surrounded by the soft hum of productivity — keyboards clicking, papers shuffling, muted conversations from the outer office. Everything looked exactly as it should. Calm. Controlled. Perfectly aligned.
Except me.
I had spent the night turning over memories I thought I had buried — his voice, his touch, the way his eyes lingered on mine the day I left. The dream had replayed again and again, like an old film I couldn't switch off.
You won't lose me, Jay-Jay.His promise echoed faintly, hauntingly.
My hand drifted unconsciously to my wrist where I still wore a thin gold bracelet. Simple, minimal, but meaningful. It had been a birthday gift from Keifer when I turned eighteen. Everyone thought it was from my cousin. No one ever knew the truth.
"Miss Jay?"
The soft knock broke me out of my trance. Coel stepped in, his usual grin replaced with a hint of concern. His tie was slightly crooked — rare for him — and the small detail told me he had rushed straight here without his usual mirror check.
"You're early," I said, straightening a pile of reports. "That's unusual, Coel."
He raised an eyebrow. "You were already here when I arrived. That's even more unusual."
I smiled faintly but didn't answer.
He sat down opposite me, crossing one leg over the other, studying me like he always did when something wasn't right. "You didn't sleep, did you?"
"Of course I did," I lied.
"Jay," he sighed, resting his elbows on his knees, "I've known you since the day SE Corp started. I know your 'of course I did' tone. That's your I worked until sunrise and pretended coffee counts as rest tone."
I looked up, meeting his gaze. His brown eyes were steady but gentle — the kind of gaze only someone who cared enough to notice could give.
"Coel, I'm fine," I said softly, "just… thinking."
"Thinking about what? Don't tell me it's the new Watson Corp partnership again." His lips curved into a teasing half-smile. "Because ever since that name came up, you've been spacing out a lot more than usual."
I froze for half a second — the smallest, most imperceptible pause — but Coel caught it. Of course he did.
He tilted his head slightly. "So it is about Watson Corp."
I exhaled slowly, leaning back in my chair. "You're too observant for your own good."
He grinned. "And you're too quiet for someone who usually tells me everything about every business deal."
There was silence for a long moment. The air between us was calm, but there was a faint tension beneath it — like something waiting to break.
"Jay," Coel said more softly now, "you don't have to tell me everything. But if something's bothering you… don't lock it up. You do that every time something personal happens. You hide behind your CEO voice and your perfect posture."
My throat tightened slightly. "Coel, this is not personal. It's business."
"Right." His tone was flat, but his eyes softened. "And yet you said his name in your sleep last night."
My breath caught. "What?"
He hesitated, then sighed. "You fell asleep in the conference room last night. Samy and I came in to drop the new proposal folders. You were murmuring… something. I thought it was numbers at first, but then I heard you say Keifer."
The name hung in the air like a spark waiting to ignite.
For a moment, I couldn't speak. The walls of composure I'd spent years perfecting felt fragile. I looked down at the bracelet again, twisting it gently between my fingers.
"It's nothing," I finally said, my voice soft. "Just a dream."
He leaned forward slightly. "Dreams don't usually make you skip breakfast and stare at the skyline for an hour."
I forced a faint smile. "You sound like Samy now."
"Good," he said. "Maybe between the two of us, we can stop you from overworking yourself to death."
Despite everything, I let out a small laugh. It felt strange but comforting. Coel had that effect — he could read me without prying, joke without crossing lines.
But even his warmth couldn't chase away the thoughts of him.
Mark Keifer Watson.
The name was a wound that hadn't quite healed — not bleeding anymore, but still tender when touched. I had seen it on the investor list weeks ago, but I had brushed it off, convinced it was a coincidence. And then… the boardroom meeting happened. His voice, his gaze, the quiet storm in his presence — it had all come crashing back.
"I'll handle it," I finally said, gathering the papers in front of me. "Watson Corp is just another partner. We've worked with bigger companies before."
Coel leaned back, studying me. "You know, I would've believed that if you didn't look like you've just seen a ghost every time their name comes up."
I froze mid-motion. He wasn't wrong.
"Jay," he continued, his voice gentler now, "who is he?"
I looked up. His tone wasn't demanding — it was careful, sincere, protective. But I couldn't tell him. Not yet.
"An old… acquaintance," I said finally.
"Acquaintance," he repeated slowly, testing the word. "You mean someone who can still make you lose sleep ten years later?"
I shot him a look, but his expression was almost apologetic. "I'm sorry, Jay. But if this man — this Keifer — is going to affect you like this, I think you owe it to yourself to face it. Whatever it is."
I turned away, looking out the window. The sunlight hit the glass in a thousand fragments, scattering across the floor like gold dust.
Face it.The words echoed in my mind.
Maybe he was right. Maybe pretending the past didn't exist wasn't strength. Maybe it was just fear.
By noon, Coel had retreated to his department, leaving me alone in the office. I tried to focus on reports and presentations, but every spreadsheet blurred into memory — the way Keifer had smiled that last day, the weight of his promise, the sound of his laugh.
The intercom beeped softly. "Miss Jay, Mr. Watson's assistant just called. He wanted to confirm your availability for a personal meeting this Friday."
My pen slipped from my hand. "Tell them… tell them I'll review my schedule and call back," I said quickly.
"Yes, Miss Jay."
The line went silent.
A meeting. Just the two of us.
It was inevitable, wasn't it? Fate had a cruel sense of humor — bringing back the one person I'd built my entire empire to forget.
That night, as the city's glow replaced daylight, Coel returned to my office with two cups of coffee.
"I know you skipped lunch again," he said, setting one cup on my desk.
"You keep track of everything I eat now?" I asked, amused.
"Only when it's concerning," he said lightly, before sitting down. "Samy says you're quieter than usual. And that means something's definitely wrong."
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "I'm fine, Coel. Really."
He frowned, but his voice softened. "You know, Jay, you don't always have to be strong."
I looked up, startled.
"You built SE Corp from nothing," he continued. "You survived the hardest years alone. You've earned every bit of respect people give you. But…" His eyes softened. "Even the strongest people break sometimes. And it's okay."
The room fell silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioning.
I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. "I'm not breaking, Coel. I'm just… remembering."
He smiled faintly. "Then remember, but don't get lost in it."
I nodded slowly. "You really think I'm losing control that easily?"
He chuckled. "Jay, you once held a whole negotiation with three billionaires while your leg was bleeding from a glass cut — and won. You don't lose control easily. But this—" He gestured vaguely toward the skyline. "This man… he's different, isn't he?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
He stood after a moment, straightening his tie. "Alright then. If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me. I'll be around."
As he reached the door, I said softly, "Coel?"
He turned.
"Thank you."
He smiled. "Always."
When he left, I leaned back in my chair, staring at the city lights. Every skyscraper reflected a version of myself — powerful, independent, composed. But beneath it all, the same girl who once stood in a schoolyard, promising not to forget.
The city was quiet that night. Too quiet.
Keifer's POV
From across the river, in my own towering glass office, I stared at the skyline that mirrored hers.
I could almost picture her there — standing by the window of SE Tower, head tilted slightly, the faint light outlining her profile. It had been years, yet I could still read her silence.
"She's not sleeping again," I murmured to myself.
The city lights glowed against the glass, reflecting both empire and emptiness.
"She still wears that bracelet," I whispered.
For a moment, the ruthless CEO facade slipped, replaced by the boy from Section E who had watched her board that plane.
I reached for the ring chain around his neck — the promise ring I had given her, now tied with a thin piece of silver.
"Just a little longer, Jay-Jay," I said under my breath. "You can run as far as you want… but I promised, didn't I?"
My lips curved faintly. "I'll find you. Always."