Keizer's voice was calm, but there was a softness in it Jay hadn't missed.
"Jay," he said, pausing at the doorway, "get ready. We're leaving in an hour. It's a family gathering."
Jay looked up from where she was sitting, a little startled. "Family… gathering?"
Keizer nodded once. "Yes. Everyone will be there."
For a second, uncertainty flickered across her face. Family gatherings had always been complicated for her—rooms where she felt like a guest, never quite belonging.
Sarina noticed it instantly.
She crossed the room and gently took Jay's hands in hers. "Hey," she said softly, smiling, "you don't have to worry. You're coming with us. That's all."
Jay swallowed. "I don't want to be in the way."
Keizer turned back then, really looked at her. His expression wasn't stern like usual—it was steady, reassuring.
"You're not in the way," he said simply. "You're with us."
Those words settled into her chest, warm and unfamiliar.
Sarina squeezed her hands. "Come on. I'll help you choose something. Nothing fancy—just be comfortable."
As they walked toward the bedroom together, Jay glanced back once.
Keizer was already making a phone call, giving instructions, his voice firm—but there was something different about it now. Protective. Certain.
For the first time, the phrase family gathering didn't sound like something she had to survive.
It sounded like somewhere she belonged.The gathering was already alive when they arrived—soft music, familiar laughter, the hum of voices that came from years of shared history.
Jay stayed close to Sarina at first, fingers lightly gripping the edge of her dupatta. She smiled when spoken to, nodded politely, but there was still that instinct in her to stay small.
Keizer noticed.
After a while, he cleared his throat—not loudly, but enough that the room slowly quieted. Conversations faded. Heads turned.
Jay's heart skipped. She hadn't realized she'd been standing so close to him until his presence felt suddenly solid beside her.
"I want everyone's attention for a moment," Keizer said.
His voice was steady. The same voice people listened to without question.
He placed a hand gently—but deliberately—on Jay's shoulder.
"This," he continued, "is Jay."
A few smiles. Curious looks.
Then he said the words that no one—especially Jay—was prepared for.
"She is my daughter-in-law."
The room went still.
Jay's breath caught so sharply she almost forgot how to breathe.
Daughter-in-law.
The word echoed in her ears, loud and unreal.
Sarina's hand immediately found Jay's, fingers lacing through hers, grounding her.
Keizer didn't rush. He didn't explain. He didn't justify.
"She is family," he added, his tone firm now. "And she will be treated as such."
There was no question in his voice. No space for doubt.
For a moment, Jay could only stare at the floor, eyes burning. No one had ever claimed her like that. Not publicly. Not without conditions.
Someone smiled first. Then another. An aunt stepped forward, warmth in her eyes.
"So this is the girl," she said kindly. "We've heard so much."
Jay looked up, stunned, and Sarina gently nudged her. "Go on," she whispered, smiling through misty eyes.
As Jay was pulled into conversation, welcomed instead of observed, she glanced back once.
Keizer had already turned away, as if what he'd done was the most natural thing in the world.
But Jay knew better.
And for the rest of the evening, no matter where she stood, she wasn't a guest.
She was home.Jay didn't even realize when she slipped away from the room.
The noise had grown too loud—not because people were unkind, but because her chest felt too full. Too many emotions pressing at once. She stood near the balcony door, fingers trembling as she tried to steady her breath.
She hadn't cried in front of anyone.
Not yet.
"Jay."
Keizer's voice came quietly from behind her.
She turned fast, instinctively wiping at her eyes, embarrassed to be seen like this. "I—I'm sorry. I just needed a minute."
He closed the door gently behind him, muting the sounds of the gathering. For a moment, he said nothing. He simply stood there, giving her space.
Then, calmly, "Did I overstep?"
That question broke her.
She shook her head immediately, tears spilling now. "No. Never that." Her voice wavered. "I just… no one has ever said that about me before. Not out loud. Not like it was certain."
Keizer nodded slowly, as if he already understood.
"When I said it," he replied, "I meant it."
Jay looked at him then—really looked. There was no performance in his face. No hesitation.
"You don't become family only after ceremonies," he continued. "You become family by the way you show up. By the way you care. By the way you belong."
Her lips trembled. "But what if one day I disappoint you?"
He stepped closer—not imposing, just present.
"Then you'll still be family," he said. "That's the point."
Jay let out a shaky breath, something unclenching inside her that had been tight for years.
"I didn't have anyone who chose me like that," she admitted softly.
Keizer's expression softened. "You do now."
For a second, she hesitated—then leaned forward and rested her forehead lightly against his chest, like a child who finally felt safe enough to stop pretending.
He didn't flinch.
He placed a steady hand on her shoulder, grounding, protective, wordless.
"Go back when you're ready," he said gently. "They're waiting for you."
As Jay walked back toward the light and laughter, her steps felt different.
Lighter.
Because somewhere behind her, someone had just promised—without conditions—that she was no longer alone.