Academically Yours (Jayfer)

Chapter 3
Jayjay’s POV

I woke up... confused.

My phone buzzed on my nightstand, its screen blinding in the dark room, but that wasn’t what caught me off guard. What caught me off guard was the clock:
4:37 AM.

I had slept almost five hours.

A world record, by my standards.

For a moment, my body felt... oddly rested. Not fully, not entirely, but just enough for my brain to register something foreign. Comfort. Ease.

And then the guilt crashed in.

Five hours. That’s two whole hours I could have spent reviewing market analysis techniques. Or fixing the citations in my essay. Or literally anything productive.

I sat up, grabbed the nearest textbook, and opened it like I was apologizing to it.

Never again, I whispered in my head. No more wasting time.

Thirty minutes into reviewing SWOT analyses, my door burst open with the energy of a tornado on espresso.

“Jayyyy,” Bianca sing-songed, dressed in shorts and a hoodie two sizes too big. Her hair was a mess. Her smile was not. “You’re up early! Or... still up?”

“Early,” I muttered, not looking up. “Unfortunately.”

She walked in without asking — she never asks — flopping onto the edge of my bed, nearly sending my perfectly placed pens scattering.

“You’ll never guess what happened,” she said dramatically, as if we weren’t having the same conversation structure for the tenth time this month. “Yuri called me ‘mahal’ last night.”

That got my attention. I blinked.

“Yuri,” I repeated. “As in Keifer’s best friend Yuri?”

Bianca grinned like a lovesick maniac. “Yep! And I think... I think he’s courting me? Like old-school, ‘pick you up from class’ kind of courting.”

I stared. “Bianca. You just said you weren’t sure if you liked him last week.”

“I wasn’t sure then,” she said, shrugging. “But now? I am. He’s sweet. And funny. And he actually listens when I talk about my Pinterest boards.”

I wrinkled my nose. “He’s still Keifer-adjacent. You sure that doesn’t contaminate him?”

Bianca burst out laughing. “Oh my God, Jay. Why do you hate Keifer so much?”

I didn’t even hesitate. “Because he’s arrogant, distracting, and acts like academic success is a game.”

Bianca raised an eyebrow. “You sure it’s hate? Not... I don’t know, repressed attraction? Enemies-to-lovers arc? That kind of thing?”

I threw a pillow at her. “Get out. I need to study before I snap and light something on fire.”

She was still laughing when she closed the door behind her.

After getting ready, I walked to my next class — still tense, still clutching my notes like a lifeline — when someone called out my name.

“Jay!”

I turned and saw Ci-n jogging up the pathway, his white coat half-on, stethoscope peeking from his bag.

“Wow,” I said, smiling a little. “Med school finally breaking you down?”

He grinned. “It’s trying. But I’m still surviving. Barely.”

Ci-n was one of my closest friends from high school — the type of person who could wing an entire exam and still come out top of the class. A natural genius.

I, on the other hand, had to bleed for every percentage.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

“I’m... breathing,” I said. “I got five hours of sleep and now I’m suspicious of myself.”

He laughed. “That’s tragic.”

I nodded toward his books. “You still dreaming of flying planes?”

His smile faltered, just a little. “Yeah. But I guess I’m grounded for now.”

I wanted to say something — maybe ask why he never pushed back — but I didn’t. Because I knew what it was like to choose the path that pleased your family over the one that made your heart race.

We split off at the stairwell, and I headed into class.

And that’s when things got weird.

Keifer was already seated... next to my seat.

I stopped. Blinked. Stared.

He didn’t say anything — didn’t even look at me — just tapped the edge of my desk like he’d claimed the spot.

I sat down slowly, as if it were a trap.

Throughout the lecture, he said nothing. No sarcasm. No teasing. Just that irritating, unreadable silence.

But I could feel it — his eyes glancing sideways. Studying me. Calculating. Not in a flirtatious way, but like he was trying to figure out a riddle.

I didn’t like it.

That evening, I took a cab to Angelo’s house. A familiar ache settled in my stomach as soon as the gate came into view.

Dinner was quiet — at first.

Angelo cut his steak with practiced precision, like he did everything. Calculated. Sharp. Cold.

“You’re still in the top percentile?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “One point ahead of Keifer Watson.”

He nodded. No smile. “Don’t let it slip.”

“I won’t,” I muttered.

Across the table, Aries — my older brother — frowned.

“She’s already doing amazing, Angelo,” he said.

Angelo didn’t even look up. “Amazing isn’t enough in our world.”

“Then maybe your world needs fixing,” Aries snapped.

The room froze. I stared at Aries, wide-eyed. He never... ever did that.

After an awkward beat, I stood. “I should go.”

Outside, as we waited for my ride, Aries nudged my arm. “You don’t have to earn anyone’s approval, Jay.”

I didn’t say anything.
Because I didn’t believe him.

That night, I curled up with my laptop in bed and opened the document I hadn’t touched in weeks — my secret story. The one I’d been writing since my highschool years.

“The Ones Who Never Slept”
(Working title. Probably too dramatic. But it fit.)

I added a new chapter, typing softly under the glow of my lamp:

“They told her that dreams were for the lucky, for the gifted. That survival came first.
So she built her castle from fear and discipline.
She didn’t believe in fate.
Just finish lines.”

I stared at the screen, rereading the words until they blurred.

Then I hit save.

And started studying again.