Jay noticed it first on a quiet afternoon, standing near the mansion's fountain while Keifer and the girl strolled through the garden.
He laughed. Really laughed. Not the polite, measured smile he gave to everyone else, not the quiet nods of duty—but a laugh that was easy, unguarded, soft.
"She thinks you're funny," the girl said, nudging him playfully.
Keifer shook his head, smiling faintly. "I'm not… that funny," he said, but there was warmth in his voice, a looseness Jay had never heard before.
And the girl—she looked completely at ease. She leaned toward him, rested her shoulder lightly against his arm. She spoke without hesitation, with that bright, carefree energy that always seemed to draw people in.
Keifer listened. Really listened. Not the distracted, polite listening he gave to so many, but attention—his eyes on her, his expressions softening, his voice calm.
Jay stood there, just watching. She didn't step forward. She didn't intervene. She didn't say anything.
And yet… something stirred inside her.
It was subtle at first—a flicker of jealousy she didn't expect, a tiny pull in her chest. She tried to shake it off. It's not yours to feel, she told herself. Keifer had never been hers. He never had been.
But as she watched him laugh again, his shoulders relaxed, his whole body lighter than she'd ever seen, a strange warmth spread inside her. Something slow, unfamiliar, started to take root.
It wasn't anger. It wasn't sadness. It wasn't longing—at least, not entirely.
It was something new. A quiet, strange curiosity about the man who could be so… himself around someone else, while remaining impossibly distant to her.
Jay shifted slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She told herself she didn't care, that she was fine.
But the truth was, she was noticing things she hadn't before: the way he smiled, the ease in his posture, the gentle way he nodded when she spoke. And from that moment, a small, strange thought settled in her mind.
She didn't know what it meant yet.
But she knew she would keep watching.
Keifer had started coming back to university. But he didn't come with Jay.
He came with her.
At first, Jay didn't notice it immediately. It was small things—a shared table in the cafeteria, whispered jokes between them that Jay couldn't hear, the way professors and classmates now glanced toward the girl whenever Keifer's name came up.
"Hey, have you seen Keifer?" a friend would ask.
And before Jay could answer, the girl would chime in, "Yeah, he's over there with me."
Jay noticed it. Every time. Every single time.
She saw it in the conversations that shifted away from her. Keifer's topics, once shared naturally with her, were now mostly directed toward the girl. Even casual remarks about homework or professors were rerouted, leaving Jay to listen from the sidelines.
She said nothing.
Because she hung out with Keifer all the time anyway. She saw him, she knew him. She understood the way he moved, the way he laughed, the way he didn't always speak but somehow made his presence felt.
So when people looked to the girl first, Jay simply smiled politely.
"Yeah… he's around," she would say softly, letting the conversation pass.
And inside, a strange mix of feelings stirred—a flicker of something she couldn't quite name. It wasn't jealousy. Not exactly. It was more like… noticing a subtle shift in the world she thought she understood, and realizing that things didn't belong to her in the ways she once imagined.
Yet Jay stayed calm. She stayed composed. Because in her quiet heart, she knew something very simple: she didn't need to claim Keifer. She already had him in her own way—without needing attention, without needing validation.
She watched him laugh at something the girl said. She watched him nod, attentive and polite.
And she let it be.
Because she was okay.
She always had been.