Darkness wrapped around your mind, but then… colors bloomed.

Laughter. The lightest sound of bells—your own small giggles filling the air. You were six, maybe seven, your tiny hands reaching up as your father lifted you high, spinning you around. Your mother clapped from the side, smiling that warm, angelic smile that made everything safe.

“Careful, she’ll get dizzy,” she teased, but her eyes were so soft on you.

Everything was perfect. Home felt like heaven.

But then—there was a shadow. A boy. Taehyung.

He stood with a scowl, fists clenched. His words cut like knives, even back then.

“I hate you. Everyone loves you because you’re rich. You’ve your father. I’ve nothing.”

You blinked, not understanding, but the sting stayed. And then—splash. He shoved you into the pool.

Cold water engulfed you. You thrashed, little arms flailing, lungs burning. Fear. You didn’t know how to swim. You were sinking, deeper and deeper—when suddenly, strong arms wrapped around you. Taehyung. The same boy who pushed you jumped in, dragging you to the surface. Both of you coughing, sputtering, but alive.

Your mind jolted. The scene shifted.

A birthday. Your mother’s birthday. She was dressed beautifully, but her face twisted in anger as she argued with Mrs. Kim. You didn’t understand their words, only their raised voices, the sharp tension. Then—hands grabbing you. Your mother, frantic, pulling you away.

Everything blurred. Running. Dark woods. Branches scratching your skin. Your mother’s breath ragged, her hand clutching yours so tightly it hurt.

She crouched low, tucking you behind a tree. Her trembling fingers cupped your cheeks.

“Don’t come out, okay, baby? Stay here. Stay here no matter what.”

You nodded, though your heart pounded.

But then—footsteps. A woman’s shadow loomed. Mrs. Kim. Her face twisted with venom.

“You think you can hide her from me?”

You squealed when she yanked you out, her nails biting into your arm. Pain shot through your tiny body. You cried, called for your mother.

Your mother screamed, throwing herself between you. She shielded you, arms wrapped around you tight. But Mrs. Kim’s rage was merciless.

The flash of metal—a rod. One brutal swing.

CRACK.

Your mother’s cry tore through the night. Blood. Too much blood.

“No! Mama! Stop, please!” you screamed, tiny hands trying to push Mrs. Kim away. But she didn’t stop.

Another strike. Another. Your mother’s body convulsed, then went limp—her blood soaking into the dirt.

Your throat burned with screams, your tears blurred everything.

“Mama, wake up! Please wake up! Please…”

And Mrs. Kim’s wicked laugh echoed, filling your small, breaking world.

Your small body trembled, hiccups of sobs shaking you as Mrs. Kim’s bloody hands grabbed you by the collar and dragged you through the dirt. Your mother’s limp, blood-soaked body was pulled along, leaving a red trail.

You kicked, screamed, clawed—but she shoved you both into the back of a car. SLAM. The door locked. The world outside blurred as the engine roared to life.

Your palms pressed against the window, your throat raw from screaming.

“Stop! Please stop! Mama’s hurt! Mama needs help!”

Mrs. Kim’s eyes met yours in the rearview mirror—cold, blazing with hate.

“Shut up. You should’ve never been born.”

She drove fast. Too fast. The trees and streetlights smeared into streaks of light as your tiny body bounced in the seat. You clutched your mother’s arm, shaking her.

“Mama, wake up! Please… please… I’ll be good! Just wake up!”

But her head lolled lifelessly. Blood dripped onto your small hands.

Terror clawed at your chest as Mrs. Kim suddenly opened the door. The rush of air whipped through your hair. And then—

She jumped.

The car veered violently, now driverless.

You shrieked, clutching your mother’s body as the wheel spun out of control. The world blurred, horns blaring, lights flashing—

BOOM.

Metal crumpled. Glass shattered. Your small body slammed forward. Pain. Screams. And then… silence.

Darkness swallowed everything.

Your eyes snapped open as though ripped from another world. A bloodcurdling scream tore from your throat.

“MAMA!!”

Your body thrashed violently on the hospital bed, hands clawing at invisible restraints, legs kicking against the sheets. The machines beeped frantically, alarms ringing as your heart rate spiked.

“YN!” Jungkook’s voice cracked, but his arms were already around you, wrapping you tight against his chest before you could hurt yourself. You fought him, fists beating against his chest, tears blinding you.

“Let me go! Please—stop her! Don’t let her touch Mama! Please!”

His chest heaved, but he didn’t let go. His hand cupped the back of your head, holding you against him even as your nails dug into his skin.

“She’s not here, YN. She’s not here! You’re safe—it’s me. It’s me, Jungkook. Look at me!”

But you weren’t seeing him. You were still trapped in that car, still clutching your bleeding mother. You screamed again, shaking uncontrollably.

“Blood—so much blood—Mama wake up! Please wake up!”

Jungkook’s throat tightened so hard it burned. His arms tightened, caging you to him, his jaw clenching against the surge of helplessness tearing through him.

“I’ve got you. I swear on my life, I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not now. Not ever again.”

The door burst open—Jin, Maria, Jimin, even Yoongi standing at the glass. Jin hurried inside, voice steady but tense.

“She’s reliving it. Hold her—don’t let her thrash too hard. Her body is catching up to what her brain finally remembered.”

Jungkook’s grip didn’t falter. He lowered his head until his forehead pressed against yours, his breath shaky, his voice raw but firm.

“You’re not alone this time. Hear me? You’re not alone in that car anymore.”

“YN!” Jungkook shouted, but his voice couldn’t reach you. You clawed at him, tears streaming down your face, screaming for your mother, begging to be saved. Your entire body shook violently in his arms, lost in the nightmare you couldn’t escape.

Nothing worked. His words, his arms, his promises—nothing was pulling you out.

Then his chest tightened so painfully it nearly broke him. Something inside snapped. He cupped your face firmly, forcing your wild eyes to meet his. His own were blazing, wet, desperate.

And without another thought—he crushed his mouth against yours.

In. Front. Of. Everyone.

The room froze. Jin’s hands stilled in midair. Maria gasped audibly. Jimin blinked in shock. Even Yoongi’s usual impassive face cracked with surprise.

Your eyes widened, but Jungkook didn’t pull away. He kissed you like a drowning man, his lips moving hard, urgent, shaking against yours. It wasn’t gentle—it was raw, almost pleading, pouring every ounce of his fear, rage, and need to reach you into that kiss.

And for the first time since you woke screaming… you stilled.

Your fists clenched into his shirt, eyes locked wide on him. The sound of your broken cries dimmed, replaced by the thunder of your heartbeat and his lips pressed fiercely to yours.

He pulled back just slightly, panting, forehead pressing against yours, voice trembling:

“Come back to me, YN. Please… come back. You’re not that little girl anymore. You’re mine. With me.”

The silence in the room was suffocating—no one moved, no one breathed, all eyes glued to the scene.

Your chest heaved, eyes still wide on him, lips trembling under the ghost of his kiss—then suddenly your body slackened.

“YN?!” Jungkook’s voice cracked in panic as you went limp in his arms.

“No, no, no—wake up—” he shook you lightly, terror flashing in his eyes.

“Jungkook.” Jin’s firm voice cut through the chaos. He hurried over, checking your vitals, his calmness steady against Jungkook’s storm. He pressed his stethoscope to your chest, then looked up with a small, tired sigh of relief.

“It worked,” Jin announced.

Jungkook froze, holding you even tighter. “W-What do you mean it worked? She fainted—”

“Her brain responded to the procedure,” Jin explained carefully, gesturing to the machine still hooked up beside you. “The surge of memory was too strong for her to withstand, so her mind shut down to protect itself. But…” his lips curved faintly, “…she remembered. The block is broken. When she wakes up, she won’t just be YN of now—she’ll be YN with all of her past intact.”

The weight of those words hit Jungkook like a wave. His throat tightened painfully, eyes locked on your pale, sleeping face. Relief, fear, and love twisted violently inside him.

Everyone outside the room was still frozen, staring, processing what they just witnessed—Jeon Jungkook kissing his wife like the world would end without her.

Jungkook leaned down, pressing his lips to your temple this time, softer, gentler. His whisper was only for you:

“You did it. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

The hospital room was quiet now—machines humming softly, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat echoing in the silence. You lay there pale, your lashes trembling every now and then, but still asleep.

Jungkook sat right beside your bed, elbows on his knees, hands pressed together like he was praying. His eyes hadn’t left your face for even a second. He kept replaying Jin’s words—she remembered. That meant when you woke, you would know everything. The truth. The face of the person who broke you. He wanted to know, needed to know, but more than that—he was terrified. Terrified of what those memories had done to you, terrified of losing you to the weight of your past. Please, just wake up,… I’ll take it all with you. I swear I’ll destroy whoever hurt you.

Leaning against the wall, Jin exhaled slowly. He’d expected a reaction, but not this strong—still, he knew your body was holding up. He trusted you’d pull through. His sharp eyes slid briefly to Jungkook, watching the way the younger man clung to your hand like his own life depended on it. This boy is in deeper than he’ll ever admit.

Sitting quietly, Jimin’s hands were balled in fists. He hated this—watching you suffer, watching Jungkook break with you. His protective side wanted to run in, shake you awake, but he knew it wasn’t his place. YN… please, when you open your eyes, just give him the strength he needs too. He’s been carrying more than you know.

Maria had tears in her eyes. She’d been there through your broken pieces, the days you couldn’t breathe, the nights you couldn’t sleep. Seeing you like this, fragile but finally closer to the truth, gave her hope. But she glanced at Jungkook, and her chest tightened. He’s not just protecting her anymore. He’s tied to her. Heart and soul. God, please don’t let this destroy them both.

Outside, even Yoongi—who had come a while aho watched everything stayed longer than he usually would—stood by the window, arms crossed, expression unreadable. But his sharp eyes softened just for a second when they landed on you. That kid’s waiting like the world will collapse if she doesn’t wake up. He doesn’t see it yet, but he’s already hers.

And so they all waited—for the moment your eyes would finally open, and with them, the truth of the night that ruined your life.

The night dragged long, every tick of the clock echoing in that sterile hospital room. Everyone had drifted into silence—no one daring to leave, all waiting for the moment your lashes would flutter open.

And finally, as the first light of morning spilled through the curtains, you stirred. Your body shifted weakly, your lips parting as though fighting against invisible chains. Jungkook shot upright immediately, his hand tightening around yours.

“Yn? Hey, wake up. Please…” his voice cracked, soft but urgent.

Your eyes slowly opened, hazy at first, then clearer. Everyone froze, relief flooding their faces—but then came the silence. You just stared, lips trembling, tears brimming but refusing to fall. You didn’t say good morning. You didn’t even whisper his name.

Jin leaned in, his tone calm, professional. “Yn… can you hear me? Are you in pain? Do you feel dizzy?”

You blinked at him once. Then finally, you spoke, your voice hoarse, broken—

“...Take me to Taehyung.”

The words dropped like thunder.

Everyone blinked. Maria’s jaw parted. Jimin straightened in his chair. Jungkook froze, eyes wide in disbelief.

“What…?” Jungkook whispered, his voice tightening. “Why him?”

You turned your head toward him slowly, your expression unreadable, fragile yet unwavering. “Please… I need to meet him.”

“No,” Jungkook’s reply came sharp, immediate. His heart was already burning. “Not now. You just woke up—you’re weak, you’re not in a state—”

But you cut him off, your voice stronger this time. “I need to meet him, Jungkook. Please. Take me to him.”

For a moment, the room turned into a battlefield of silence—his fury and desperation against your quiet, stubborn plea. Your eyes shimmered, not with fear, but with something he couldn’t read—something pulling him apart.

Jin cleared his throat, glancing at Jungkook. “Maybe… she has her reasons. Let her.”

Maria placed a hand over Jungkook’s arm gently. “Jungkook… trust her.”

His jaw clenched so hard it hurt, but when he saw your trembling shoulders, your broken plea repeating—please—he swallowed his anger. He didn’t understand why, but he couldn’t deny you.

“Fine,” Jungkook muttered darkly, standing up. His hand slipped into yours again, firm, possessive. “But I’m coming with you. Every damn step, we all are" Jimin said.

And so, later that morning, the convoy of cars left the hospital. You, pale and weak but holding onto something only you knew, sat silently with Jungkook beside you, his grip never loosening.

When the gates of Taehyung’s house appeared in front of you, everyone felt the weight of the moment settle heavy on their chests.

The bell hadn’t even stopped echoing when the door swung open.

Taehyung stood there—hair messy, loose shirt, eyes widening the second he saw the crowd. His gaze swept over Jungkook, Maria, Jimin, sera and finally—landed on you.

Your face was cold, unreadable, the kind of mask that only hid fire beneath.

“Yn…?” he breathed, shock lacing his tone. “What’s this? Why are you all—”

SLAP.

The sound cracked through the hallway like a whip. His head snapped to the side, cheek burning red. Silence swallowed the room whole. Everyone froze—Jimin’s mouth parted, Maria gasped softly, even Jungkook’s eyes widened despite his usual composure.

Taehyung blinked rapidly, disoriented, trying to process what just happened. His voice broke, stunned. “Y-yn… what—what the hell—?”

You were trembling, your breath uneven, but your voice carried like a blade when you spoke.

“You knew.”

His eyes snapped to you, shock painted across his face.

“You knew everything from the start, didn’t you?” your voice cracked, fury and anguish entwined. “You knew I didn’t remember anything—and still… still you never told me!”

Taehyung staggered back half a step, confusion and panic flashing across his features. “Yn… what are you talking about? I don’t—”

“STOP!” you screamed, shoving him hard in the chest. He stumbled back, almost colliding with the edge of the couch. Tears shimmered in your eyes, your fists balled tight. “Stop pretending! Stop acting like you don’t know anything!”

Everyone watched, silent, tense—the air suffocating.

“I remember,” your voice broke into a sob, raw and ragged. “I remember everything. Every fucking thing.”

Taehyung’s body froze. His lips parted, but no words came out. His face drained of color, his breath hitched, as though the ground had just been ripped from beneath his feet.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached, his fists itching to move, but he held back—because this was your moment.

And Taehyung? His silence, his wide-eyed stare… said it all.

Your trembling hands shot forward before he could even blink. You fisted his collar, jerking him forward so hard he nearly lost balance.

“Answer me, Taehyung!” your voice broke, sharp and wounded. “You hated me. You pushed me, you hurt me, you threw venom at me every chance you got! You said I was spoiled, that I had everything while you had nothing!”

Your nails dug into the fabric of his shirt, your face so close he could see every tear in your lashes.

“And then—” your breath hitched, chest heaving, “—then suddenly, after my mom’s death, you changed. You were soft. You cared. You… you held me when I cried. You stayed when everyone left. How? Why?!”

Your voice cracked into a scream, raw and desperate. “What made you change, Taehyung?! Why did you suddenly act like you cared, when all I remember is you hating me?!”

His eyes glistened, tears threatening to spill. His jaw trembled as he tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He looked at you like a man drowning, suffocating on guilt that had festered for years.

Behind you, Jungkook’s fists curled at his sides, every muscle in his body taut—but he stayed still, letting you hold Taehyung accountable. Maria pressed a hand to her mouth, her own eyes glassy. Jimin glanced between everyone, his usual calm cracking with tension.

Your voice came out in a whisper first, almost fragile—yet sharp enough to slice through the thick silence in the room.

“You know what I remember now… you know what happened that night.”

Everyone’s breath hitched. Jungkook’s head snapped toward you, his body instinctively tensing as if bracing for impact. Maria clutched the edge of the sofa, her knuckles turning white. Jimin froze mid-step, his expression unreadable but his eyes wide.

You lifted your trembling hand, pointing a finger at Taehyung, your lips quivering with rage and grief.

“You know who killed my mom.”

Taehyung’s face drained of color, his whole body going rigid.

And then you dropped it—the words like a bomb exploding in the quiet room.

“It was your mom, Taehyung.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Like the air had been sucked out of the room.

Taehyung’s lips parted but no sound came out. His knees nearly buckled under the weight of your accusation.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ground together, fury blazing in his eyes as they snapped to Taehyung. Maria gasped loudly, tears instantly welling in her eyes as she shook her head in disbelief. Jimin’s hands curled into fists at his sides, but his gaze flickered between you and Taehyung, searching for truth in the chaos.

Taehyung finally whispered, voice breaking, “Yn… please…” His eyes were already brimming, shaking his head slowly, denial and devastation written all over him. “Don’t—don’t say it like that.”

“Say it like what?!” you snapped, voice rising with the pain of a child who had just relived her mother’s murder. Tears streamed down your face, but your stare didn’t falter. “Like the truth? That it was her! She hit my mom. Again. And again. And again. Until her body—” your voice broke, your chest heaving, “—until her body was lying in front of me, covered in blood. And you… you knew!”

Your knees wobbled, and Jungkook moved instinctively, stepping closer to steady you, though his murderous glare never left Taehyung.

Taehyung’s whole body went rigid.

Your words hit him like a bullet, stealing the air from his lungs. He had always known his mother was cruel, twisted in ways that made even him keep his distance. But this? This? The thought that she had killed your mother—that she had destroyed your life—was something he had never even imagined in his darkest fears.

“Y…Yn…” his voice cracked, but the words died in his throat.

And then you broke.

Your voice came out fractured, choked with the cries of a child who had just been forced to relive hell.

“I–I saw my mother d-dying… she—she was covered in blood.”

Tears spilled endlessly down your cheeks as your whole body trembled. “A-and I was there… I was there! Crying, b-begging your mother to stop… but she didn’t—she didn’t stop. S-she—”

Your knees gave out beneath you.

The weight of the memory crushed you to the floor, your hands clutching your chest as if to hold yourself together while sobs tore from your throat. “She killed her! She killed my mom in front of me!”

The room froze.

Maria gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth as tears immediately streamed down her face. Jimin’s fists clenched, eyes burning with fury but his heart aching for you. Jungkook dropped beside you instantly, pulling you into his arms without hesitation. His chest rose and fell unevenly, his jaw set tight, but his eyes… his eyes softened only for you, shielding your breaking form against him.

Taehyung staggered back a step, shaking his head violently, tears spilling down his face. “No… no, no… this can’t be true. My mother—she’s cruel, I know, she’s heartless, but… this? I—” He stumbled against the wall, chest heaving, as if the truth you laid bare was a knife cutting through every piece of him.

Jungkook’s glare was lethal, sharp enough to kill. “You didn’t know?” His voice dripped venom. “Or you didn’t want to know, Taehyung?”

Taehyung’s lips trembled, his eyes wild. “I swear—I swear I didn’t know this! I never… I never imagined…” His voice cracked into a sob, torn between his love for you and the horror of what his bloodline had done.

And in Jungkook’s arms, you clung tighter, shaking uncontrollably, your sobs muffled against his chest. For you—it wasn’t about Taehyung’s denial. It was about the nightmare that wasn’t a nightmare anymore. It was real.

It was your past.

It was your truth.

Taehyung’s voice cracked, his whole body trembling as he fell to his knees in front of you.

“I saw you breaking, Yn…” His words were barely a whisper, but heavy enough to weigh on everyone’s chest. “I saw you how you cried every night after your mom's death—how you cried for your mom…” His lips quivered, the word catching like thorns in his throat.

Tears streamed down his face, raw and unrestrained. “It’s true… I used to hate you. I was reckless, stupid, blinded by jealousy because you had everything I didn’t. I was just a senseless kid who didn’t know better. But then—” He choked on the memory, pressing his fist against his chest. “Then seeing you like that… broken, bleeding tears… it changed me. It tore something inside me. I couldn’t hate you anymore. I wanted—no, I needed—to protect you. To stay by your side.”

Your sobs grew louder against Jungkook’s chest, and Jungkook’s hold on you only tightened, his jaw clenching, his gaze locked coldly on Taehyung.

Taehyung’s eyes squeezed shut, his voice shaking as he pushed on. “Your mom… she—she was in the hospital after… after everything. Doctors were rushing, your dad was panicking. I was just standing there, this useless kid who didn’t know what to do. Then she… she called me.”

He broke into a sob, his hands shaking as he reached for you but stopped halfway, ashamed. “I went to her. She—she looked at me with so much pain, so much love for you even in that moment. And her last words—” His breath hitched. “Her last words were… always protect her. Protect you, Yn.”

You froze in Jungkook’s arms, your tear-filled eyes lifting slowly to Taehyung.

He fell apart right in front of you, shaking his head furiously, guilt eating him alive. “But I failed! I failed her! I failed you! I promised her I’d protect you and yet—you were suffering, crying, breaking in front of me all these years, and I… I didn’t do enough. I stood by, thinking I could make up for it, but it wasn’t enough, was it?” His voice cracked into a scream, his body folding forward. “I failed you, Yn!”

The room was thick with silence and grief. Maria was crying openly, Jimin had his hand clenched into a fist against his mouth, and Jungkook’s eyes softened—not for Taehyung, but because of the way your tears doubled at his words.

Taehyung’s voice broke completely as the words tore out of him.

“And the one who gave you this pain… the one who destroyed everything…” His lips trembled, his chest heaving. “…is no one but my mom.”

The confession hung in the air like a knife.

You flinched, your breath catching, your nails digging into Jungkook’s arm as if you needed something to anchor you. Your tears blurred everything, but the weight of those words cut deeper than any wound.

Maria covered her mouth, shaking her head in disbelief. Jimin closed his eyes, unable to bear watching. Even Sera’s face paled.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, his arm around you iron-strong, as though he could shield you from every echo of those words. His eyes locked on Taehyung—dark, sharp, unreadable—but inside he was burning.

Taehyung’s shoulders shook as he lowered his head, unable to look at you. “I wish it wasn’t true. God, I wish it wasn’t her. But it is. And now I hated myself because… because it was my blood, my family, who ruined you. Who took your mother from you.” His voice cracked, barely audible. “And nothing I do will ever erase that.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

It was miserable. Both of you—two broken souls bound by one cruel night—falling apart in front of everyone.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate. He caught you before you hit the floor, cradling you against his chest as you shook and screamed and begged for the memories to stop. His hand pressed to the back of your head, his deep voice firm but gentle, whispering over and over:

“I’ve got you. You’re safe. She can’t hurt you anymore. Not while I’m here.”

You clung to him, fists twisting into his shirt, your tears soaking his chest. Every sob pierced him, but he held you tighter, like his embrace alone could cage the pain that kept ripping out of you.

Across the room, Taehyung’s sobs were no quieter—guttural, shattered, helpless. His shoulders shook as he gasped, “I should’ve stopped her… I should’ve protected you… I should’ve—” His words broke off into another cry.

Sera rushed to him, kneeling at his side, wrapping her arms around him as if to keep him from drowning in his guilt. She stroked his hair, whispering soothingly, though her own tears slid freely down her cheeks.

Maria stood frozen, her heart breaking at the sight, while Jimin closed his fists, struggling with his own emotions, unable to look at either of you without his throat closing.

The room was heavy with grief, guilt, and the lingering echoes of truths too sharp to bear.

And yet, in the middle of it all, Jungkook kept you steady, whispering like an oath in your ear:

“You’re not alone anymore. Not ever again.”

The air was still heavy with sobs when Jungkook’s grip on you shifted.

His hand, once tender against your trembling back, curled into a fist so tight his knuckles cracked. His jaw clenched hard enough to ache, his eyes no longer soft—they were dark, blazing, lethal.

He looked past you, past Taehyung’s crumbling figure, straight into the memory of Mrs. Kim’s face.

“She…” His voice was low, guttural, trembling with restrained fury. “She did that to you. She killed your mother in front of your eyes. She left you to die.”

Everyone stilled, their tears pausing midstream, drawn by the venom in his tone.

Jungkook carefully laid you against his chest, one hand stroking your hair to ground you, but his gaze never softened—it sharpened, his entire aura shifting into something cold, merciless.

“I swear on my life,” he growled, his voice echoing like a vow carved into stone, “Mrs. Kim will pay. She won’t breathe another day in peace. I’ll make her regret every drop of blood she spilled.”

You flinched at his words, whispering weakly, “Jungkook…”

But he shook his head, eyes flickering with a storm he could no longer cage.

“No, Y/n. This isn’t just your pain anymore—it’s mine too. She broke you. She took your mother. She dared to touch what’s mine.” His chest heaved, rage pouring out of every syllable. “I won’t forgive her. Not in this lifetime, not in any.”

Taehyung lifted his tear-streaked face, eyes red, voice cracking as he added, “She’s my mother… but if Jungkook doesn’t kill her—I will.”

The room froze in silence.

Maria gasped. Jimin cursed under his breath, tension thick in his body. Sera squeezed Taehyung’s hand, torn between comfort and fear.

And in the middle of it all, Jungkook’s arms tightened around you, his rage no longer a whisper but a vow of blood.

Taehyung’s knees hit the floor with a dull thud, his hands trembling as they clutched at your legs.

“Y/n…” his voice cracked, broken, desperate. “I—I’m so sorry. I couldn’t protect you… I couldn’t protect your mother. I let you suffer all these years because of my blood. My mom… she destroyed your life, and I—” his words choked as he lowered his forehead to your feet, sobs shaking his shoulders. “Please forgive me. Please… hate me if you want, but don’t… don’t break because of me.”

Your chest ached painfully at the sight. He wasn’t the reckless, cruel boy from your childhood anymore—he was a man shattered by his mother’s sins, blaming himself for wounds he never inflicted.

“Taehyung…” your voice was soft, raw from crying. You sank down to your knees, your hands cupping his face and forcing him to look at you. His eyes were red, wet with tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you whispered, your voice trembling but firm. “You were just a kid. You didn’t kill my mom. You didn’t make me suffer. She did. Only her.”

He shook his head violently, tears spilling harder. “But I should’ve done more—I should’ve protected you! If I had—”

You cut him off by pulling him into a sudden embrace, his body stiffening before he collapsed against you, crying into your shoulder like a child. Your own tears returned, but softer this time—not from pain, but from the sight of someone else breaking for you.

“It hurts me to see you like this,” you whispered into his hair. “I don’t want you to carry her sins. I don’t want you to destroy yourself for something you didn’t do. You’re not your mother, Taehyung. You never were.”

The room went silent, heavy with emotion—Jungkook stood watching, jaw tight, torn between fury and respect at your compassion.

Taehyung sobbed harder, clutching the back of your shirt. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness…”

“Maybe not,” you said softly, pulling back just enough to meet his swollen eyes, “but I’m giving it to you anyway.”

The room was heavy, thick with silence, each person drowning in their own thoughts about Mrs. Kim—the monster hidden behind her perfect facade.

Jungkook’s jaw was clenched so hard the veins on his neck stood out, his hand crushing yours in a grip that screamed both fear and fury. “So it was her…” he muttered, voice low, dangerous. His eyes flickered up, dark with realization. “She’s been behind it all. The exam papers, the rumors in college, the whispers that tore you down. She’s been pulling the strings from the start.”

Maria gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “Of course!” she blurted, her voice trembling with anger. “That’s exactly what she wanted—to ruin you, destroy every piece of your life, break your spirit until there’s nothing left. God… this lady is dangerous.”

You sat frozen, her words digging into your chest like thorns. Your body felt cold, the memories mixing with everything you had just remembered. All along… it was her.

Taehyung’s head was bowed, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. His voice cracked as he whispered, “She’s been planning this from the very beginning… erasing you… and I never saw it. I never—” He cut himself off, shaking, guilt burning through his frame.

Maria leaned forward, her voice softer but steadier now. “But Yn… look at you. You survived everything. You fought when no one stood beside you. And now… you’re not alone. You have us. All of us. You have family. You have strength. You have him.” She pointed gently toward Jungkook.

You turned your head, meeting his eyes. For once, his anger wasn’t masked—raw emotion bled through, dangerous but also protective. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, his gaze locked so deep into yours it was as if he was branding a vow straight into your soul.

“She can’t touch you again,” Jungkook said firmly, voice sharp as a blade. “Not now. Not ever. And if she even dares—” his voice dropped into a growl, the promise lethal—“I’ll make her life so miserable, so destroyed, she’ll choke on her own regret before she even gets the chance to apologize. I swear it.”

His words rang in the air, heavy, final. A shiver ran through everyone present—because they knew Jeon Jungkook never spoke promises lightly.

The atmosphere shifted violently—like the air itself had turned to ice.

Jungkook’s glare cut toward Taehyung, his voice dripping with scorn.

“You tell me, Taehyung… what do you want? To play the victim here? Cry over everything? While your sweet mother nearly destroyed her life?” His hand tightened around yours, protective, but his tone was razor-sharp.

Taehyung’s jaw locked. For the first time, he didn’t flinch beneath Jungkook’s intensity. His sharp gaze met Jungkook’s head-on, no hesitation. “She’s not my mother anymore,” he said, each word bitten out like venom. “The moment she chose to hurt others—to hurt her—she lost every right to be called my mother. She’s nothing but a murderer.” His voice cracked, but his eyes burned. “And I swear, she’s not going to live happily after what she did. I myself want her—” his chest rose and fell, and then the words ripped from him like a curse—“dead.”

The room froze. Maria’s hand flew to her mouth. Sera gasped audibly. Even Jin, who had just entered quietly, stiffened in shock. The weight of that single word—dead—hung in the air like thunder.

Your body jolted. You knew Taehyung hated his mother, yes, but to hear him say it—so cold, so sure, so casual—it terrified you. Dead. Like it was the only justice left.

But Jungkook? Jungkook didn’t even blink. Instead, his lips curved into a dark, humorless chuckle. His head tilted slightly, shadows cutting across his sharp features. “Dead, huh?” he repeated softly, almost like a test. Then his voice dipped lower, lethal, chilling. “Good. Because I’ll complete your wish, Taehyung. And don’t you dare regret your words later. Once the line is crossed—there’s no turning back.”

He wasn’t warning Taehyung. He was reminding everyone else in the room just who Jeon Jungkook really was when pushed to the edge.

Jungkook’s hand was still laced with yours, the veins in his arm taut from holding in the storm brewing inside him. But when his eyes shifted to you, the darkness melted—his rage replaced with quiet concern. He cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing against the damp trail of your tears.

“Let’s take you home,” he murmured, his voice softer than anyone expected from him after the venom he’d just spat at Taehyung. “This is enough for today.”

You didn’t argue. You were drained, both body and soul. You simply nodded, letting him guide you toward the door. His arm circled your waist firmly, as if daring the world to try and separate you from him.

Maria, Jin, and Jimin exchanged uneasy glances but followed behind until you reached the cars. Everyone departed with a heavy silence—except one.

“Wait,” Sera’s voice cut sharp through the quiet. She stood rooted next to Taehyung, her hand gripping his sleeve tightly. “I’m not leaving him.”

Jungkook halted, his gaze slicing toward her. “Sera.” His tone was firm, already warning. “Come with us.”

She shook her head, steel in her usually playful eyes. “No, oppa. He’s breaking too. Did you even see him? He… he needs someone to rely on, just like she has you. I can’t leave him alone.”

“That’s not your responsibility.” Jungkook’s voice deepened, frustration edging every word. “You don’t know what kind of danger this will pull you into. Don’t test me, Sera.”

But Sera didn’t back down. She straightened her shoulders, standing between Jungkook’s glare and Taehyung’s broken frame. “And you don’t know what kind of guilt eats him alive. He lost just as much as she did. He doesn’t need another person walking away—he needs someone to stay. I’m staying.”

The siblings’ glares clashed for a long, tense moment—Jungkook’s protective fury against Sera’s stubborn defiance. Finally, with a sharp exhale, Jungkook broke it off. He muttered something under his breath, jaw ticking, before tugging you closer and leading you away.

Sera exhaled shakily, her grip on Taehyung’s sleeve tightening. She didn’t dare look at Jungkook’s retreating back, because she knew his anger wasn’t gone—it was only buried for now.

That night, the lines shifted: you returned home under Jungkook’s shield, while Sera made her choice—to stay behind with Taehyung, refusing to let him drown alone in the shadows of his mother’s sins.

The apartment door clicked shut, leaving only the two of them inside. The silence felt heavier than anything Taehyung had ever known. He stood there, shoulders hunched, fists still clenched at his sides as if holding himself together was the only thing keeping him from breaking completely.

Sera didn’t speak at first. She simply watched him—watched the way his eyes stared blankly at the floor, watched his throat work as he swallowed hard, watched his body tremble with emotions he was trying desperately to choke down.

Finally, she stepped closer, her voice soft. “Tae…”

Taehyung flinched, his jaw tightening. “Don’t,” he rasped, his voice hoarse. “Don’t call me that like nothing happened.”

Her heart clenched, but she didn’t stop. She moved closer, standing right in front of him. “You’re hurting,” she whispered. “And you think I’ll just leave you alone in this state? Forget it. I’m not going anywhere.”

He let out a bitter laugh, but it cracked in the middle. His eyes glistened. “Do you know what I just heard, Sera? That my own mother—my own blood—took hers away. Do you understand what that means? That I’ve been protecting the shadow of a murderer this whole damn time. That every time I told myself ‘she’s still my mother,’ I was spitting in her face—Yn’s face.” His voice broke. “How do you expect me to breathe with that?”

Sera’s eyes softened, and without hesitation, she reached out and grabbed his trembling hands. His head snapped up in surprise, meeting her gaze.

“You breathe because Yn still needs you,” she said firmly. “Because your mom’s sins are not yours. Because the little boy who hated her learned to protect her instead. You promised her mom, remember? That doesn’t make you guilty—it makes you… human. And broken. And someone who doesn’t deserve to carry this alone.”

Taehyung’s lips trembled, his chest heaving. And then—like the last string snapping—he collapsed. His knees hit the floor with a dull thud, his hands clutching Sera’s as if they were his last lifeline.

“I should’ve protected her,” he whispered, tears finally spilling down his face. “I should’ve done more. I—”

Sera knelt in front of him, cupping his face gently, forcing him to look at her. “Stop blaming yourself,” she said firmly, though her own eyes burned with tears. “Yn doesn’t blame you. And I won’t let you drown in guilt you don’t deserve. You’re not alone, Taehyung. Not anymore. I’m right here.”

For the first time that night, his defenses cracked completely. Taehyung leaned forward, burying his face in her shoulder, his entire frame shaking as sobs tore through him. And Sera—small, stubborn, but unyielding—wrapped her arms around him and held him through the storm.

In that moment, it wasn’t about family names, sins, or blood. It was about a boy who had lost everything and a girl who refused to let him lose himself too.

When you and Jungkook stepped inside the mansion, the weight of the entire day pressed down on you. Your body felt heavy, but not nearly as heavy as your heart. Every step echoed with the memory of your mother’s smile, her touch, her voice… and then the brutal way she was taken from you. The ache was unbearable.

Mrs. Jeon was the first to move. She didn’t hesitate—not even a second—before she rushed to you. Her arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you into the warmth of a mother you had longed for all these years.

“My poor child…” she whispered, her voice already breaking. She stroked your hair, kissed the top of your head like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’ve carried so much alone. Too much for such young shoulders. You don’t have to anymore, not here, not with us. You’re our daughter now.”

That word—daughter—was enough to rip the last wall in you. Tears spilled freely, your body trembling as you clutched her back. “I miss her… I miss my mom so much. It hurts—hurts so bad.”

“I know,” Mrs. Jeon soothed, rocking you gently, as if you were still a child. “I know, baby. But I’m here. You’re not motherless anymore.”

Mr. Jeon, usually so composed and stern, moved closer. He placed a steady hand on your shoulder, his deep voice softer than you had ever heard. “You have a place here, YN. You’ve always had one, even if you didn’t realize it. From today onwards, you don’t just have Jungkook. You have us. You have a family.”

The dam broke. Sobs tore through you as you clung to Mrs. Jeon like a lifeline, your heart aching but finding a sliver of relief in the warmth surrounding you.

Jungkook stood by silently at first, jaw tight, his own eyes glassy as he watched you shatter and be put back together in his parents’ arms. Then, unable to stop himself, he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around both you and his mother, his chest pressing against your back.

“She’s not alone,” Jungkook said hoarsely, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Not while I’m alive. I’ll protect her with everything I have.”

Mrs. Jeon smiled through her tears, hugging you tighter. “I know you will, son. But remember—care doesn’t just mean protection. It means giving her peace. She needs both.”

And for the first time since regaining your memories, you felt something unfamiliar. Surrounded by arms that held you not because they had to, but because they wanted to, you felt… safe.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself be comforted, letting yourself believe—maybe for the very first time—that you weren’t alone in this cruel world anymore.

Mrs. Jeon didn’t let you move even an inch once dinner was served. You tried weakly to protest, murmuring, “Mrs jeon, I can eat by myself…” but she shook her head firmly, her eyes filled with that motherly stubbornness you’d never known.

“No. Tonight, you’re my daughter, and I’m going to feed you like one,” she said softly.

Piece by piece, she lifted food to your lips, her hands gentle but insistent. And though at first it embarrassed you, soon you found yourself leaning into it—accepting each bite, each gesture. For a moment, it felt like your mother was still here, still loving you. Your chest ached, but in that ache was warmth.

Jungkook watched silently from beside you, his throat tight. He’d never seen you like this—letting someone take care of you without resisting, without walls. When Mrs. Jeon smiled and brushed a tear from your cheek, his heart clenched.

After you were done, Mrs. Jeon kissed your forehead and whispered, “Sleep, sweetheart. Cry if you need, but don’t hold it in anymore. We’re here.”

Later, upstairs, Jungkook guided you to your room. You looked exhausted—broken, but a little lighter too. He helped you change into something comfortable, his movements quiet, careful. Then, without asking, he pulled you gently into bed.

You curled against him instinctively, too tired to fight it, too drained to pretend you didn’t want the warmth. His arms wrapped around you firmly, his chin resting on your head as if he was anchoring you.

“Sleep,” he murmured, low and steady. “I’m right here. Nothing’s going to happen to you again. Not while I breathe.”

You couldn’t sleep. Even in his arms, the heaviness of what you remembered pressed down on your chest until it felt hard to breathe. You shifted a little, your voice trembling as you whispered against him, “Why, Jungkook? Why is this all happening to me? What did I do wrong to deserve this?”

He pulled back just enough to see your face in the dim light, his thumb brushing away fresh tears. “You didn’t do anything wrong, baby. None of this is your fault.”

Your eyes searched his desperately. “Then why did she kill my mom? Why did she… hate us so much? And why am I still alive when I should’ve…” Your voice cracked, your body trembling. “When I should’ve died with her in that car?”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched, his hold on you tightening as if he could anchor you to the present. “Don’t you dare say that,” he said, his voice low, trembling with fury and pain. “You’re alive because you’re meant to be. Because your mother fought to keep you safe. Because the world—because I—need you here.”

Tears ran freely down your cheeks now. “But it hurts so much, Jungkook. Every time I close my eyes, I see her covered in blood. I hear myself screaming. I can’t stop asking why—why me? Why my family?”

He pressed his forehead to yours, his voice rough but steady. “I don’t know why she did it, YN. I don’t know why people like her exist. But I swear to you, I’ll find every answer, I’ll dig out every truth, and when I do—she’ll pay. She won’t ever be able to hurt you again. Not in this lifetime.”

You clung to him, your fists tightening in his shirt. “And what if she comes back? What if she tries to finish it this time?”

His eyes softened, though his grip didn’t loosen. “Then she’ll have to go through me first. And I promise you, she won’t survive it.”

The conviction in his voice—cold, certain, absolute—made you shiver. For the first time that night, a flicker of safety sparked in your chest. You buried your face against his neck, whispering in a broken voice, “Don’t leave me, Jungkook. Please.”

“Never,” he vowed instantly, pressing a kiss into your hair. “You’re my life now. As long as I’m breathing, you’ll never face any of this alone again.”

And though the ache didn’t disappear, you finally let your tears fall freely—because this time, you weren’t crying into silence. You were crying into the arms of the man who refused to let you break.

Jungkook lay on his back, your fragile body curled into him, your face still wet from crying. His arm was tight around your waist, as though if he loosened even a fraction, you’d vanish from him just like your mother had been ripped away.

But his eyes weren’t on you. They were staring into the darkness above, burning, unblinking.

Mrs. Kim.

The name alone made his jaw lock, his teeth grind so hard it ached. Every piece of the puzzle, every memory you’d been forced to relive, every scream that had left your lips—led to her. She wasn’t just cruel, she wasn’t just manipulative. She was a murderer. Your mother’s murderer.

And she was still out there. Breathing. Walking. Plotting.

Jungkook’s fingers flexed against your back, the rage coiling tighter in his chest with every breath. He could still hear you sobbing, begging for your mother to wake up, your tiny hands in that memory trying to stop the blood. His heart twisted viciously, hatred surging through his veins like fire.

She made her cry like that. She made her bleed. She left her to die.

A dark chuckle slipped past his lips, quiet so you wouldn’t stir. “You think you’ve won, Mrs. Kim,” he whispered into the silence, eyes narrowing, “but you’ve only dug your own grave.”

He tilted his head down, looking at you, the way your body unconsciously burrowed closer to him even in sleep. His heart softened instantly, but the fury didn’t dim—it sharpened.

For her… I’ll become the monster you should fear.

His thumb brushed over your arm as if promising you without words. You’ll never have to dirty your hands. You’ll never have to face her again. That’s mine to carry.

And as the moonlight spilled faintly into the room, Jungkook’s decision cemented like stone. He wouldn’t just make Mrs. Kim regret. He’d make sure her last breath was filled with the same terror she once forced into a little girl’s cries.

“Sleep,” he murmured softly, pressing his lips to your hair. “When you wake up, I’ll already be planning how to end her.”

The morning sunlight had barely crept through the Jeon mansion when Jungkook was already on his feet, pacing like a caged predator. His sleepless eyes were sharp, burning with something darker than usual. By the time everyone arrived—Jimin, Sera, Maria, Taehyung, and Yoongi—the air was thick with tension.

They gathered in the study, the heavy oak doors shut behind them. Jungkook stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, his jaw tight. Everyone waited, silent, knowing from the set of his expression that this wasn’t a casual meeting.

Jungkook finally spoke, his voice low but commanding.

“We’re going after Mrs. Kim.”

Sera’s eyes widened. “Oppa—”

He raised a hand, silencing her.

“But before we move… we need every piece of truth. Every connection. Every person she’s dealt with. Every crime she’s covered. We dig her life out from the roots, and when we have everything—we burn her world down.”

Yoongi leaned back in his chair, smirking faintly. “So it’s war then.”

“War?” Taehyung snapped, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the table. “She killed her. She destroyed her life. This isn’t war—it’s justice. And I won’t stop until she pays.”

Jimin reached across, placing a steadying hand on Taehyung’s arm, his tone calm but firm. “Justice takes patience. If we go in reckless, she wins again. We need strategy. That’s why Jungkook called us.”

Jungkook’s eyes flicked to Maria, softer for a brief second. “Maria, you stay close to Yn. Don’t leave her side. She doesn’t need to be dragged into this—not until we’ve got everything laid out.”

Maria nodded firmly. “I’ll protect her with my life.”

Yoongi leaned forward now, more serious. “I’ve already started pulling her financials, her private meetings, the people she pays off. Give me two days, and I’ll have a list of everyone in her pocket.”

“Good,” Jungkook muttered. “Because once we know her allies, we cut them out one by one.”

Taehyung finally looked up, eyes bloodshot from crying but blazing with fury. “And when it’s her turn?”

Jungkook’s lips curved into a cold, dangerous smirk.

“When it’s her turn, I’ll make sure she begs for mercy she’ll never get.”

The room went silent. The plan wasn’t fully formed yet, but the decision was made. The hunt had begun.

The discussion around the table turned sharp, voices bouncing with ideas, strategies, threats. Yoongi explained the trails of money, Taehyung swore he would dig deeper into his mother’s hidden connections, Jimin suggested a timeline of attacks—but none of it fully reached you.

You sat there quietly, your hands folded in your lap, listening but not really hearing. Every time someone said revenge, your chest tightened. Every time Jungkook’s tone dipped into that cold, dangerous growl, your heart stung.

You weren’t thinking about destroying her.

You were thinking about her face.

The blood on your mother’s body. The hate in her eyes. The way she didn’t stop, no matter how much you cried.

And the question burned in you like fire: Why?

Why was she so cruel? Why had she hated you so much? Why had she taken your mother from you?

Your gaze drifted away from the table, out the tall window, where the morning light fell on the gardens. The flowers swayed softly, innocent, untouched by the storm inside you. You clenched your hands tighter.

“Yn,” Jungkook’s voice broke through your haze, low but firm, pulling your attention back. His eyes locked with yours—sharp, protective, as if he could sense your distance. “Don’t think about it too much. Leave it to us.”

You wanted to nod, to agree. But instead, your lips trembled as you whispered, almost to yourself,

“I don’t want revenge.”

The room went silent. Everyone turned toward you.

You lifted your head, meeting their shocked stares.

“I want answers. I want to look her in the eye and ask why. Why she hated my mother. Why she hated me. Why she… destroyed everything.”

Jimin softened immediately, leaning slightly forward. “Yn…”

But Jungkook’s jaw tightened. His fists curled on the table. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like you even thinking of facing Mrs. Kim.

Your eyes glistened, but your voice stayed steady.

“Revenge won’t give me peace. I need the truth. I need to know what broke her so badly that she broke me.”

The silence stretched. Even Yoongi, usually quick with a sharp remark, stayed quiet, eyes narrowing as if reassessing the whole picture.

And Jungkook—he didn’t argue yet, but you could see it in his eyes: he was already torn between his thirst for blood and your desperate need for answers.

The silence stretched like a blade. Everyone’s eyes on you, Jungkook’s rage boiling just beneath the surface, Taehyung shrinking into himself, Jimin looking torn between worry and comfort.

Then Yoongi leaned back in his chair, arms folding, his gaze sharp on you—not pitying, not soft, but calculating.

“You’re right,” he said suddenly.

The room snapped toward him.

Yoongi’s smirk wasn’t playful—it was laced with knowing. “If all we do is hunt her down and kill her, we’ll never understand the full picture. People like Mrs. Kim don’t destroy lives without reason. Sick or twisted as it is, there’s always a reason.” His eyes flicked to Jungkook briefly. “And sometimes… the reason is more dangerous than the crime itself.”

Jungkook’s fist hit the table, making you flinch. “Hyung—”

But Yoongi cut him off calmly. “Listen to her, Jungkook. She doesn’t just want blood. She wants truth. And honestly? Truth is more powerful than revenge. Knowing why your enemy did what they did gives you control over them.”

You stared at him, chest rising and falling unevenly, because his words wrapped around the exact fire burning inside you.

Yoongi’s gaze softened—just a fraction—as it landed back on you.

“You deserve to hear it from her mouth. Whether it kills her pride or exposes her real motive, you deserve to face her.”

Jungkook was on his feet before Yoongi even finished, pacing with a storm in his eyes. “No. No fucking way. You think I’ll let her stand in front of that woman who nearly killed her twice?!”

Yoongi just smirked faintly, tilting his head. “And what are you going to do? Lock her in a room forever? You can’t cage someone who’s already tasted hell and survived it, Jungkook. She’s stronger than you think.”

Your heart clenched at his words. Because for the first time… someone believed you weren’t fragile, but fierce.

Jungkook stopped pacing, breathing hard, his eyes darting between you and Yoongi, torn apart by his own fury and fear.

Yoongi leaned forward this time, eyes narrowing, voice calm but carrying the weight of steel.

“She wants answers,” he said, his gaze flicking toward you for a moment before landing back on Jungkook. “And we’ve got an opportunity. We can use that. Make Mrs. Kim give them herself.”

The room went still.

Jungkook’s jaw ticked, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles turned white. “Hyung… don’t tell me you’re—”

“Yes,” Yoongi cut him off smoothly, not even letting him finish. His smirk returned, sharper this time. “I’m exactly thinking what you’re about to say.”

The air thickened, Jungkook’s body practically vibrating with anger. “You want to use her? My wife? As bait for that monster?”

Yoongi didn’t flinch. “Don’t be dramatic, Jungkook. I’m saying she’s the only key Mrs. Kim won’t resist unlocking. You want the truth? She’s not going to confess to us, but she will to her.” His voice lowered, dangerously calm. “Because that woman thrives on control, on watching others break. Face to face—she won’t be able to resist revealing why she did what she did. That’s when we’ll have her.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse thundering, because Yoongi’s words made a cruel kind of sense.

Jungkook’s voice broke, rough and furious. “Over my dead fucking body, hyung. I won’t throw her into the lion’s den just so you can play your twisted game of truth and lies.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “Not a game, Jungkook. A strategy. There’s a difference.”

The clash of fire and ice between them made the room tense, everyone else watching with wide eyes. Jimin shifted uneasily, Maria bit her lip, and even Taehyung sat rigid, afraid to move.

And you?

Your heart warred with itself—fear screaming inside you, but another voice whispering that maybe Yoongi was right.

Before Jungkook could snap again, your voice cut through the thick silence.

“I’ll do it.”

Every head turned toward you.

Jungkook froze, his jaw slack, his whole body stiff. “...What the hell did you just say?”

You swallowed, your fingers tightening in your lap, but your gaze didn’t waver. “I’ll face her. If that’s the only way to know why she killed my mom… why she destroyed everything… then I want to hear it from her mouth.”

“No.” Jungkook’s tone was a growl, final and sharp like a blade. “Absolutely fucking not. Don’t even think—”

“I’m not asking you, Jungkook,” you snapped, your voice trembling but steady enough to carry the weight of your decision. “This is my life. My mother. My pain. I need answers.”

Yoongi leaned back in his chair, smirking faintly, as if he already knew how this would go. “See? She’s stronger than you give her credit for.”

Jungkook shot him a murderous glare. “Shut the fuck up, hyung.” Then his eyes whipped back to you, burning with panic and fury all tangled together. “Do you even realize what you’re saying? That woman won’t just talk. She’ll try to break you. She’ll manipulate you, hurt you, destroy you all over again.” His voice cracked with raw desperation. “And I won’t stand there and watch that happen.”

Your chest ached at the raw honesty spilling out of him, but still you shook your head. “You won’t have to watch. Because you’ll be right there. You always are. And if she tries… then we end it right there. Together.”

The room went silent again, but this time it wasn’t out of shock—it was because everyone could feel the war raging between the two of you.

Yoongi broke the silence with his low, steady voice. “It’s risky. But… it’s also the fastest way.”

Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal, before stopping and pointing a finger at Yoongi. “One wrong move, and she gets hurt—this is on you.”

Yoongi didn’t blink. “Fair enough.”

Then Jungkook turned back to you, his chest rising and falling sharply. “And you…” His voice softened, breaking at the edges. “Don’t you dare think I’ll forgive you if you get hurt.”

You managed a small, tired smile, even through the weight of everything. “You won’t have to.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Jimin leaned forward, eyes flicking between Yoongi and Jungkook.

Yoongi set his coffee down with a soft clink, his tone calm but sharp enough to cut glass. “Simple. We use what she can’t resist—her pride. Women like Mrs. Kim, they don’t stop unless they’re sure they’ve won. If she thinks she’s cornered YN, she’ll come running with her claws out.”

Maria frowned. “You mean… use her as bait?”

Jungkook slammed his hand on the table, the sound making everyone flinch. “No one’s using her as bait. Not while I’m breathing.”

Yoongi ignored him, eyes never leaving you. “You want answers? We give her the illusion she’s in control. She won’t be able to resist the chance to gloat, to twist the knife. That’s when she’ll slip—and confess.”

Taehyung’s voice was low, tight with pain. “And if she doesn’t?”

Yoongi’s smirk was cold. “Then I’ll make sure she does.”

Sera shifted nervously. “How do you even plan to get her in one place? She’s smart, calculating—”

“Smart, but arrogant,” Yoongi cut in. “We leak just enough information to her people. Something that makes her think YN’s alone… vulnerable.” His gaze flicked to Jungkook, who looked seconds away from exploding. “She’ll take the bait.”

Jungkook finally snapped, his voice low, trembling with fury. “And if she lays a hand on her—”

Yoongi met his glare without flinching. “She won’t. Because you’ll be there. Hell, we’ll all be there. Surround her before she even knows what’s happening.”

Jimin nodded slowly, catching on. “Trap her with her own confidence.”

Maria exhaled. “And then?”

“Then,” Yoongi said, leaning back, his smirk widening just slightly, “we tear the truth out of her—piece by piece.”

The room went silent again, the weight of his words pressing down on everyone.

Jungkook clenched his fists so tight his knuckles turned white. His voice dropped to a deadly whisper, aimed at no one but himself. “She won’t leave alive if she dares to touch her.”

Evening settled heavy, the kind of dusk that carried more tension than calm. You sat in the study, hands folded tightly in your lap, while Yoongi leaned against the desk across from you—arms crossed, his gaze sharp and unwavering.

“Listen carefully,” he said, tone flat, like every word was a command. “Tomorrow, you go to Mrs. Kim. You don’t fight her, you don’t accuse her. You act small—innocent. Like a lost girl who just wants answers. Let her think she’s won, let her think she broke you.”

Your brows furrowed. “You want me to… play victim?”

Yoongi gave a small nod. “Exactly. That’s when her pride will take over. She’ll talk. She’ll reveal everything. And while she’s busy feeding her ego…” He held up his phone. “…we’ll be recording every damn word.”

Maria leaned forward, worry etched into her face. “And you’ll all be right outside? Not a second late?”

Jungkook answered before Yoongi could. His voice was low, steel behind every syllable. “I’ll be closer than anyone. The moment she lifts a finger against you, she’s dead.”

Your heart twisted at his tone, but you nodded anyway. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

The group shared tense glances. Jimin rubbed the back of his neck. “This is risky, yn Really risky.”

Yoongi’s smirk curved coldly. “All worthwhile plans are.”

Across the room, Taehyung stood silently, his expression unreadable. He nodded along with the others, but his jaw clenched, his fists curling slightly at his sides.

They didn’t know. Not yet.

Because Taehyung wasn’t planning to just watch from the outside. He had already decided: if his mother dared to speak her venom, if she dared to smirk about the night she destroyed your life—he’d end it. With his own hands. No hesitation. No regret.

The night air was thick with tension as you and Jungkook stepped out of the car, the Kim mansion looming ahead like a predator waiting with its jaws open. Its windows glowed with warm lights, but to you, it felt cold, suffocating.

Jungkook’s hand brushed against yours as you walked up the marble steps. His jaw was tight, his posture rigid. He didn’t say much, but the glance he gave you before the butler opened the door said everything: I’m right here. The moment you need me, I’ll tear this house apart.

The butler bowed politely. “Mr. and Mrs. Jeon, welcome.” His tone was smooth, rehearsed, but his eyes darted with unease.

Inside, the dining hall was set extravagantly. Silver cutlery gleamed, glasses sparkled under the chandelier, and at the head of the table sat Mrs. Kim. Dressed in her finest silk, lips painted blood red, her smile was sharp enough to cut.

“Well, well…” she purred, rising from her seat. “My son-in-law and… my sweet YN. What a surprise.”

Her words made your stomach twist, but you forced a small, timid smile—the act Yoongi told you to play. You lowered your gaze, shoulders slumping as if you were truly weak. “We… came for dinner. Like family.”

Jungkook didn’t respond. He simply pulled out your chair and guided you to sit, his hand lingering on your shoulder just a moment longer than necessary. His eyes never left Mrs. Kim, sharp and dark with warning.

Mrs. Kim’s smirk widened as she sat back down. “Family,” she repeated, almost mockingly. “Yes, that’s what we are.”

From outside, unseen, Yoongi, Jimin, Maria, and Taehyung waited in the car parked at a distance. Yoongi’s phone was already recording, his eyes fixed on the live feed from a hidden mic Jungkook had tucked into your bracelet.

“Showtime,” Yoongi muttered under his breath.

But inside, as the servants began serving the food, your pulse hammered in your ears. You were about to look into the eyes of the woman who destroyed your life—your mother’s killer—and pretend to be fragile enough to let her speak.

And across town, in his silence, Taehyung’s resolve tightened. If she so much as admits it… I’ll kill her myself. Even if it ruins everything.

The tension in the dining hall thickened when the doors opened again. Mr. Kim walked in, his heavy presence instantly dimming the glow of the chandelier. His eyes swept over the table before settling on Jungkook with a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Ah, Jeon Jungkook,” he said smoothly, lowering himself into the chair directly across from him. “It’s good to finally share a table again.”

Jungkook’s jaw flexed, his gaze sharp as he leaned back in his chair. “Mr. Kim.” His tone was clipped, no warmth in it.

Mr. Kim’s gaze slid to you, lingering a little too long before flicking back to Jungkook. “And YN. I must say, marriage changes things, doesn’t it? How is your relationship? Going well, I presume?”

You felt your throat tighten, but you remembered Yoongi’s instructions—play weak, play hesitant. So, you forced yourself to duck your head, hands twisting nervously in your lap. “I… I’m trying,” you whispered, just enough for Mrs. Kim to hear.

Mrs. Kim’s lips twitched into a satisfied smirk, like she was savoring your unease.

Jungkook’s hand instantly slid under the table, resting on your knee in reassurance, though his eyes never left Mr. Kim. “Our relationship is none of your concern,” he said flatly. “But if you’re asking out of worry, then let me assure you—we're doing good. That’s all you need to know.”

A silence hung heavy before Mr. Kim chuckled low, swirling the wine in his glass. “Direct as always. Very well. Then let’s talk business, shall we?”

You stiffened. Business?

Mr. Kim leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “The Kims and the Jeons have been allies before. Our companies could merge in certain projects. With your influence, Jungkook, and our resources, we could—”

“I’m not free yet,” Jungkook cut him off, his tone cold and sharp.

The room stilled. Even Mrs. Kim’s smirk faltered.

Mr. Kim arched a brow. “Not free? Jungkook, this isn’t a proposal you can dismiss lightly. The Jeons would profit immensely from this. You would—”

“I said. I’m. Not. Free.” Each word was deliberate, final. His arm shifted closer to yours protectively, almost daring them to push further.

From the head of the table, Mrs. Kim chuckled softly, breaking the heavy silence. “Still the same boy with too much pride.

The room froze.

The doors creaked open again, and a slow, steady voice echoed through the hall.

“A family dinner… and I’m not invited?”

You and Jungkook both whipped your heads toward the entrance—Taehyung stood there, his tall frame shadowed by the dim light, hands tucked in his pockets, expression unreadable.

Your heart skipped. What is he doing here?!

Jungkook’s jaw clenched, his grip on your knee tightening protectively as if shielding you from whatever storm Taehyung was about to bring inside.

Mr. Kim frowned, confusion flickering across his face. “Taehyung? What are you—”

“Don’t ‘Taehyung’ me,” he cut sharply, stepping closer, his gaze locked on his father first, then flicking coldly to his mother. “I heard you’re all gathered here tonight. Strange, isn’t it? That the so-called Kim family dinner doesn’t bother to call its son.”

Mrs. Kim’s smirk faltered, irritation flashing in her eyes. “You weren’t invited because this is business, not—”

“Business?” Taehyung scoffed, his laugh hollow. “That’s all it ever is with you, isn’t it? Business, image, power.” He stopped behind your chair, his shadow brushing over you. You glanced up at him, and for a second, his eyes softened—but only for you—before hardening again when they shifted to Mrs. Kim.

“Since we’re all family here…” his voice dipped dangerously low, “…maybe it’s time for truths instead of dinner.”

Jungkook tensed beside you, his gaze cutting to Taehyung. “What the hell are you doing, Taehyung?”

Taehyung’s jaw ticked. “What you all should’ve done a long time ago.”

The silence was suffocating. The plan was supposed to be you drawing Mrs. Kim out, carefully, under Yoongi’s guidance. But Taehyung’s unexpected arrival had just ripped that plan apart—turning the dinner table into a battlefield.

Mrs. Kim leaned back in her chair, narrowing her eyes at her son. “Careful with your tone, Taehyung. You’re still speaking to your mother.”

Taehyung’s laugh was sharp, bitter, and it made your stomach twist. “Mother?” His eyes glistened with rage. “A mother doesn’t murder another woman and destroy her child’s life.”

The air turned electric.

Everyone at the table went rigid. Mr. Kim’s face went pale. Jungkook’s hand flexed around yours, his other fist curling tightly against the table. And Mrs. Kim’s painted smile finally cracked—just a fraction.

Taehyung blinked hard. His breath hitched as the venom of his own words—murder, destroy, mother—echoed in his head. His hands were shaking, nails digging into his palms.

“Tae…” a soft voice tugged him back.

He turned sharply—Sera was at his side, frowning up at him with worried eyes. “What happened? What’re you thinking?” she whispered, her hand brushing his arm.

Taehyung’s chest rose and fell quickly, but then his gaze darted around the mansion hall.

And that’s when he realized—

Everything he’d just said, every accusation, every venomous truth—that was all in his head. Just his imagination bleeding into reality.

In truth, he was still standing at the edge of the room, silent, watching. No one had heard him. Not Jungkook, not Yn, not even Mrs. Kim. They were all too focused on Yn’s soft, trembling voice as she sat across from Mr. and Mrs. Kim, trying to play her role—innocent, vulnerable, just as Yoongi had instructed.

Taehyung swallowed hard, his throat dry. His heart felt heavy, like it was dragging down his entire chest. So that’s what I wanted to scream? That’s what I’m keeping inside?

“Tae?” Sera pressed again, her hand squeezing his arm tighter now, grounding him. “You zoned out. Are you okay?”

He forced a tight smile, shaking his head faintly. “Y-yeah… just… thinking.”

But as his eyes shifted back to Mrs. Kim—her calm, almost regal mask as she addressed Yn sweetly, like nothing had ever happened—he felt the storm inside him grow darker.

He clenched his fists.

He couldn’t tell if he was more afraid of what she’d say next—

…or of what he himself might do if pushed too far.

The heavy doors of the Kim mansion creaked as Taehyung stepped inside, his school bag slung carelessly over one shoulder. His face was unreadable, his eyes carrying that sharpness that hadn’t dulled in years.

The moment his shoes touched the polished marble, Mrs. Kim’s voice rang out—sweet, practiced, sickly.

“Taehyung.”

Before he could sidestep her, she was already there, wrapping her arms around him.

He froze.

Every fiber in his body screamed to push her away, but he didn’t.

Her perfume suffocated him, her touch felt like poison.

“Good evening, Dad…” Taehyung said flatly, his gaze shifting to Mr. Kim who nodded in acknowledgment. His next words tasted like ash in his mouth— “…Mom.”

The word cut him from the inside. His jaw clenched as Mrs. Kim’s smile widened, satisfied.

Taehyung’s eyes flickered briefly to Yn and Jungkook, already seated at the grand dining table. Yn stiffened when their eyes met, but Jungkook shifted protectively, his arm resting on the back of her chair like a shield.

Taehyung dropped into the seat across from them, his movements deliberate, heavy. The silence stretched a second too long before Mr. Kim broke it with his calm, businesslike tone.

“Well… now that we’re all here, shall we eat?”

But beneath the clinking of silverware and porcelain, there was something else—

A storm brewing quietly, dangerously, in the air between the four of them.

Taehyung sat stiff in his chair, fingers curling against his thigh beneath the tablecloth.

The chandelier’s light glittered across the polished silverware, but all he saw was her—Mrs. Kim, smiling like a perfect wife, a perfect mother.

Disgusting.

The word burned in his mind.

She wore the mask so flawlessly that anyone else might have believed it—but not him. Not anymore.

His eyes flickered across the table.

Yn.

She sat quietly beside Jungkook, shoulders rigid, lips pressed tight. He could see it—the way she struggled, the way her breathing trembled each time Mrs. Kim’s gaze slid over her. And Jungkook… Taehyung’s jaw clenched harder. The man never looked away from her, his protective presence wrapping around her like armor.

Taehyung swallowed down the knot in his throat.

It should have been him. He should have been the one shielding her all these years. But he hadn’t. He’d been blind, stupid—too busy hating her to see what she was really enduring.

And now, sitting here across from her, his chest twisted with something he couldn’t name.

Guilt. Rage. Helplessness.

The word he had forced himself to say earlier echoed back at him like poison.

Mom.

He wanted to spit it out, to rip the skin off his tongue for even uttering it. That woman wasn’t his mother. Not anymore. Not after what she had done. Not after what he now knew.

Taehyung gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white, keeping his expression blank. No one could see the storm inside him. Not yet.

But deep down, one thought kept hammering against his skull—

I’ll never forgive you, Mother. And I’ll make sure you pay.

Mom can we talk? You ask Mrs. Kim’s eyebrow arched high at the word Mom, though your tone was sharp, your lips stiff. For a split second, her eyes glinted with suspicion—but then the perfect mask slid back into place.

“Of course, dear,” she said sweetly, rising from her chair. “Let’s have a little talk.”

You forced a small smile, standing from your seat. The clink of your chair echoed against the marble floor as you followed her.

At the table, Jungkook’s jaw flexed, his eyes never leaving you. His gaze locked with yours just before you disappeared around the corner with Mrs. Kim—his stare firm, dark, silently speaking louder than words.

I’m here. I’m watching. You’re not alone.

You swallowed, chest tightening. That unspoken promise lingered in your veins like armor.

Behind you, Taehyung’s fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palms as he tracked your retreating figure. He wanted to move, to stop you, to rip you out of that woman’s grip—but this wasn’t his fight tonight. This was yours.

In the silence that followed, the clatter of cutlery felt too loud. Mr. Kim sipped his drink casually, oblivious—or perhaps willfully blind.

Meanwhile, Jungkook leaned back in his chair, eyes burning holes through the closed doors. His muscles coiled like a predator waiting for the strike.

Because the moment you called for help—

he’d tear that room apart.

Mrs. Kim’s room was as pristine as her reputation pretended to be—expensive furniture, silk curtains, the faint smell of perfume too sweet it almost choked you. She closed the door with a soft click, her smile painted on.

“So,” she said smoothly, gliding toward the vanity, adjusting her earrings as if this was just another casual evening. “What is it you want to talk about, dear? You sounded so… desperate at dinner.”

You clenched your hands into fists behind your back, lowering your eyes just enough to sell the act.

“Mom…” you forced the word again, voice small, fragile, trembling. “Why? Why me? What did I do wrong?”

Her reflection in the mirror froze. The faintest twitch at her jaw. But she smoothed it instantly, turning with a laugh.

“Wrong? Oh, sweetheart, you did nothing wrong. Life just… chose you to suffer. That’s all.”

The bitterness in her tone made your chest tighten. You took a shaky step forward, eyes glassy.

“I remember… the car, the blood… my mom—” your voice cracked, and Mrs. Kim’s smile widened almost imperceptibly. “Why? Why did you hurt her? Why do you hate me so much?”

Her eyes gleamed now, the mask slipping just a little. She moved closer, lowering her voice like a venomous secret.

“Because you were never supposed to exist.”

Your breath hitched.

She leaned in, her whisper sharp against your ear. “Your mother ruined everything. Your father should have been mine. His fortune, his power, his name—mine. But then she came along, with you. That pathetic little child everyone adored.”

Your knees almost buckled, but you forced yourself to tremble like a lost girl. “So you… killed her?”

Mrs. Kim smirked, a cruel twist of her lips. “Yes. And I’d do it again. She stood in my way, and I don’t tolerate obstacles.”

Unbeknownst to her, Yoongi’s team outside had the recorder live, every word spilling into their earpieces. Jungkook’s grip on the glass in his hand was so tight, it cracked silently under his fingers.

But Mrs. Kim wasn’t finished. Her eyes darkened as she stroked your cheek mockingly.

“And you, dear? I should have gotten rid of you too. But maybe it’s better this way. Watching you squirm, watching you break piece by piece… oh, it’s delicious.”

Your tears burned, but you bit them back, forcing your voice to shake. “You’re a monster…”

She chuckled, low and sinister. “No. I’m a survivor. And you, my sweet child, are just collateral damage.”

Your heart skipped. Her words dripped like poison, cutting through the fear already clawing your chest.

“I… I saw everything,” you whispered, fists trembling. “You killed my mom. You destroyed everything.”

Mrs. Kim chuckled, circling you like a predator circling prey. “Oh, you think you saw everything. But darling… children only see what their little eyes can handle. You remember her blood, her screams, me with that rod.” She tilted her head, eyes flashing with something darker. “But do you know why? Do you know the full truth?”

Your jaw clenched so tight it ached. “What truth?”

Outside the room, Yoongi’s expression hardened. He mouthed to Jimin and Maria, Stay sharp. Even from the hallway, her voice seeped through the tiny bug in your pocket.

Mrs. Kim leaned closer, her tone faking honey but venom curling beneath it. “Those medicines they shoved down your throat for years—they weren’t just for your trauma. They were to bury the real truth, keep your precious little mind in the dark.”

You froze. The air felt thinner, heavier. “W-what are you saying?”

She smirked wider, savoring your trembling. “You think I killed her because I hated her? No, sweetheart. I killed her because she was hiding something. Something about you. Something even you don’t know yet.”

Your stomach dropped like ice water spilling inside you.

Outside, Sera’s hand shot to her mouth. “What the hell is she talking about?” she whispered, panicked. Jimin and Maria exchanged tense glances, while Yoongi narrowed his eyes, every word sharpening his instincts.

Mrs. Kim traced her red nails along your arm, sending chills down your spine. “Oh, YN. You’ve only peeled back the first layer. You’re not ready for the whole story. But now that you’re here… maybe I’ll let you suffer with the truth sooner than later.”

Your breathing quickened, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Tell me!” you snapped, finally breaking your trembling act. “Tell me what you mean!”

Her laughter rang through the room, hollow, chilling. “Not yet, darling. Not yet.”

Mrs. Kim’s fingers dug lightly into your shoulders as she pushed you down onto the velvet chair, her lips curling into a mock-sweet smile.

“Well, now that your memories are back,” she purred, her voice dripping venom masked as sugar, “and since you’re so desperate for answers… let’s begin the story, shall we?” She tilted her head, tone lilting like she was about to recite a bedtime tale, when in reality it was the prologue of a nightmare.

Your breath hitched, your nails digging into your palm as you forced yourself to sit still, eyes never leaving her.

Meanwhile at the dining table

The tension was rising like smoke, invisible but suffocating. Taehyung’s voice cut through it—low, sharp, unwavering.

“Dad,” he said, his gaze steady on Mr. Kim, “how much do you trust Mom?”

Mr. Kim, caught mid-sip of wine, paused and slowly set the glass down. His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Taehyung scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “I asked how much you trust her.”

The silence in the dining hall thickened. Jungkook, seated stiffly beside Mr. Kim, leaned back slightly, his sharp eyes flicking between father and son, his jaw tightening.

Mr. Kim’s voice hardened, glaring at Taehyung. “Don’t ask useless questions.”

Taehyung leaned forward, his hands curling into fists on the table. “It’s not useless, Dad. It’s useful. More than you realize.”

Mr. Kim’s tone turned warning. “Taehyung—”

But Taehyung cut him off, his voice cold, edged with the weight of years of silence.

“Well, since you’re not telling me, let me tell you. You trust her so blindly… that you never even noticed what she’s been doing behind your back.”

The words landed heavy. Mr. Kim’s face stiffened, a flicker of unease breaking through his controlled mask.

“Don’t twist things, Taehyung,” Mr. Kim demanded, his tone sharp, brittle. “If you have something to say, say it clearly.”

Jungkook’s eyebrow arched slightly, his interest piqued. He leaned forward, his presence dangerous yet quiet, waiting—testing Taehyung to see just how much truth he’d expose.

And in the silence that followed, everyone’s heartbeat seemed louder than the ticking clock on the wall.

Mrs. Kim’s smile twisted as if she enjoyed every second of watching you flinch.

“So, let’s start from the very beginning,” she purred, tone sweet but eyes glinting with venom. “The marriage of your mom and dad.”

Her voice dropped lower, serious, sharp enough to cut through the silence.

“I loved your father. He loved me. But his mother?” She scoffed. “She never accepted me. Why? Because I was just a maid in their house. So she fixed his marriage to someone else—your mother.”

You froze, your heart pounding, but she went on, enjoying the horror building in your eyes.

“And eventually,” her lips curled in bitter hatred, “he fell in love with her. Your dad—ha!—the same man who swore to me, broke my heart, betrayed me for a rich man’s daughter.”

Your fists clenched on your lap, nails digging deep.

She leaned closer, lowering her voice like it was a secret. “And to make him jealous, I…” a smirk spread across her lips, “slept with his brother.”

Your eyes widened in shock, bile rising in your throat. His brother? You had never once heard your father speak of a brother.

“Yes,” she hissed, eyes dark. “Your uncle. You never knew of him, did you? Things between us grew… heated. Too heated. And one night became many. Until I ended up pregnant.”

Disgust flooded you, your whole body trembling, but Mrs. Kim was far from done.

“And then,” she whispered, her smile widening, “an idea came to me. I told your father that the child was his.”

Your stomach churned violently.

“He believed me so easily—too innocent, too blind, because we had slept together before his marriage. He was convinced. But his brother?” Her eyes narrowed with pure hatred. “He knew. He knew it was his baby. And he was going to reveal it to your father.”

Your breath caught.

“But how could I let him destroy everything I’d built? How could I let him take away my chance at wealth, at power?” She chuckled, low and chilling. “So I stopped him.”

The smile that spread across her face turned monstrous.

“I killed him. Just like I killed your mother.”

Your body went rigid, trembling violently, eyes brimming with horror.

In the van outside, Yoongi, Jimin, Sera, and Maria all stiffened. Their eyes widened in shock, every word piercing through the earpiece like venom. Maria covered her mouth, tears stinging her eyes, while Jimin cursed under his breath. Yoongi’s expression hardened, jaw clenching, his eyes narrowing in icy fury.

Inside the dining room, Jungkook’s fork froze mid-air. His hand tightened into a fist against the table, his jaw flexing as every muscle in his body screamed for him to storm upstairs. Taehyung’s head snapped toward the ceiling, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His lips parted in disbelief, but no words came out.

Everyone was gasping—silent, broken gasps—as Mrs. Kim’s web of lies and sins unraveled into the air.

And you?

You sat there, shaking so hard you could barely breathe, realizing this woman wasn’t just cruel. She was a monster—a murderer—who had destroyed your life before you even had a chance to live it.

Mr. Kim’s hand trembled as he held the stack of papers Taehyung had slid across the table. His brows furrowed at first, but the more he read, the more his eyes widened in disbelief. His lips parted, his face drained of all color.

“This—this can’t be…” he muttered, flipping page after page. “Everything… the company shares, the mansion, the farmland, even the overseas accounts—” his voice cracked. “All… in her name? With my signature?”

He looked up at Taehyung, utterly bewildered, clutching the papers like they were burning his hands. “When did I—? I never… I never signed these!”

Taehyung leaned back in his chair, lips curling into a bitter chuckle. “Shocked? You don’t even know half the truth about your dear wife, Dad.” His tone dripped with scorn, the word dad forced out as if it was poison.

Mr. Kim’s throat bobbed. “What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying,” Taehyung snapped, his sharp gaze piercing him. “I’m showing you the truth you were too blind to see. I found these in her locker.” He tapped the papers with his finger, jaw clenched. “You trusted her so blindly that you didn’t even notice her forging your signature and transferring everything under her name. Everything you worked for—gone. And you never even knew.”

Mr. Kim’s hands shook violently now, the papers rattling. His eyes darted toward the stairs, where Mrs. Kim’s voice could still faintly be heard from the room she had taken you into.

“She… she betrayed me?” His voice broke, disbelief clashing with fury. “All these years… all these years, she—”

Taehyung scoffed, bitterness thick in his words. “You always defended her, never questioned her. And now? Look where it got you. You’re nothing but a puppet in her little show.”

Jungkook, who had been watching silently with his jaw locked tight, finally leaned forward, his dark eyes narrowing at Mr. Kim. “Do you see now? This is the woman you gave everything to. The same woman who destroyed YN’s life. The same woman who’s been playing you like a fool.”

Mr. Kim’s chest heaved as the weight of betrayal crashed over him, his fingers tightening around the papers until they crumpled. His lips trembled, his eyes clouded with disbelief, rage, and shame all at once.

And upstairs—Mrs. Kim’s chilling confession continued, unaware that her carefully spun empire was unraveling downstairs.

Mrs. Kim’s hand slid across your cheek, her touch deceptively gentle, but her words venomous.

“You know what, darling?” she cooed, her tone dripping with mockery. “Your mother knew from the very beginning I was pregnant. And of course, she believed it was your father’s child—sweet, innocent fool that she was. She was even ready to accept me, can you believe it? Accept me, and my child.” Her lips curled into a cruel smirk.

You clenched your fists, bile rising in your throat at her twisted version of “care.”

“But that wasn’t why I killed her,” Mrs. Kim went on, her eyes flashing with a sharp, wicked light. “The real reason was much more… inconvenient.” She leaned closer, whispering like she was sharing a secret. “That day, on her birthday, she found out the truth—that I killed your uncle. Your father’s brother.”

Your breath hitched, eyes going wide.

“Yes, she was going to tell him.” Mrs. Kim tilted her head, feigning a pout. “I begged her, tried to convince her she was mistaken. But she was too stubborn. Too righteous. Too… irritating.” Her grin sharpened. “So I did what I had to do. I killed her. Beat her until she stopped breathing. Simple as that.”

Her laugh echoed through the room—high, cruel, and endless. “And you know what’s the funniest part?” She leaned back, her smile widening. “Your father… he thinks you were the reason she died. Oh my god—” she clapped her hands together as if the thought was a joke—“I don’t know who’s more pathetic, you or him.” Her laughter rang out, chilling and triumphant.

Downstairs at the dining table, Jungkook’s jaw clenched so tightly it looked like his teeth would shatter. He silently activated the hidden mic, amplifying her words so every single syllable dripped into the room like poison.

Mr. Kim froze. Every mocking laugh, every cruel word his wife spat upstairs struck him like knives. His face paled, his hands trembled violently. The crumpled papers slipped from his grip onto the table.

“She… killed her…” he whispered, his voice breaking. “She killed… YN’s mother… and all these years—” His words died in his throat, his breath ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly as regret and rage consumed him.

Jungkook’s eyes flicked toward him, dark and merciless. “Now you see what you’ve been blind to all along.”

Mr. Kim’s eyes brimmed with tears of fury and shame. His whole life—all his choices—crashed down around him. For years he had defended her, loved her, trusted her… and in return, she had destroyed everything.

Mrs. Kim’s smirk deepened, her tone silkily cruel as she paced around you like a predator savoring the cornered prey.

“I made the doctor give you those medicines,” she whispered with a satisfied glint in her eyes. “So you’d forget everything. And yes… my plan worked beautifully. You forgot. And your father…” she chuckled, lowering her voice, “…he hates you.”

Your chest tightened. A sob clawed its way up your throat, but she didn’t let you breathe.

“Do you want to know who that baby was?” she asked suddenly, her smile stretching unnaturally wide.

Your eyes widened in shock, trembling. “T-Taehyung…?”

Mrs. Kim’s grin blossomed like a poisonous flower. She clapped her hands once, delighted. “Absolutely right. I must say, you’re intelligent after all. Taehyung—my sweet son. The result of my little game.” She leaned closer, her lips grazing your ear as she whispered darkly, “The child of betrayal and revenge.”

Your stomach twisted violently. Every inch of you wanted to scream, but her words kept slicing you open.

“After your mother’s death, your father married me,” she said, her voice smooth and triumphant. “Exactly as I planned. And oh, how the game was going so well—according to my rules. The wealth, the house, the name… all mine.”

Her face darkened suddenly, lips curling into a sneer. “But then my stupid son started caring for you. Started protecting you. Started ruining everything I worked for.”

Her nails dug into the chair’s armrest as she spat the words. “So I sent him away. Far away. Away from you. Do you understand? I made him leave you.”

Downstairs, the silence was unbearable.

Taehyung’s entire body went rigid, his blood running cold. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, eyes burning with unshed tears. His chest heaved with rage, but when he spoke, his voice cracked.

“She… she sent me away from her…?” he whispered. The memory of all those years of distance, the loneliness, the confusion—it all came crashing down like a tidal wave.

Mr. Kim froze too, his face pale and trembling. His eyes darted to Taehyung, then back to the ceiling, hearing his wife’s voice spill venom. The truth stabbed deeper than any blade. His throat closed, and he whispered hoarsely, “All this time… everything I believed… was her lie.”

The room felt like it was collapsing around you.

Yoongi’s calm voice had just said, “It’s done, Yn. Come out now.” You were about to move when Mrs. Kim’s smirk froze you in place.

“Do you think I’m a fool?” she whispered, her tone dripping venom.

Your blood ran cold. Slowly, her eyes dragged down your figure, landing on your ear.

“Do you really think I wouldn’t notice that little earpiece you’re wearing?” she sneered, stepping closer. “That’s why you came here, isn’t it? To make me confess… to trick me?”

Your breath caught in your throat. She knew.

Outside, everyone froze as her words cut through the earpiece. Jimin cursed under his breath. Maria’s hand flew to her mouth. Yoongi’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

Inside the dining room, Jungkook’s chair screeched against the floor as he shot up, his eyes blazing with fear and rage.

“No… no, no, no,” he muttered, bolting toward the hallway. Taehyung and Mr. Kim scrambled after him, their footsteps pounding against the marble.

You tried to run for the door, your heart hammering wildly, but before you could twist the knob, Mrs. Kim’s hand clamped onto your arm like iron. She yanked you back with brutal force.

You stumbled, falling to the floor hard. Pain shot up your arm as she towered over you, eyes glinting with twisted satisfaction.

“Poor you,” she drawled. “Did you really think I’d let you walk away after hearing my truth? Tch, tch, Yn… you’re just like her.”

Your breath hitched.

“Fearless. Stubborn. Too desperate to dig out the truth.” She crouched low, her face inches from yours, her voice lowering to a deadly whisper. “But now… you’ll die just like your mother.”

“YN!” Jungkook’s roar shook the walls. He kicked the locked door, the force rattling it but not breaking through. Over and over again, his boots slammed against the wood.

“Open it, damn it!” he screamed, his voice raw with panic.

Behind him, Taehyung’s fists pounded on the door too, his face pale and desperate. “Mom! Don’t you dare touch her!”

“Mrs. Kim, enough!” Mr. Kim’s voice cracked with betrayal and fury, but his hands shook as he shoved at the door alongside them.

Yoongi and Jimin arrived seconds later, helping Jungkook throw their weight into the door. Maria’s voice trembled as she whispered from behind, “She’s in there with Yn… oh god…”

Inside, your body trembled uncontrollably as Mrs. Kim’s shadow loomed over you, her words dripping into your ears like poison.

Mrs. Kim’s hand darted to the table drawer. The metallic scrape of steel rang out, and your blood froze. She gripped a knife, the blade gleaming under the chandelier’s light.

In one swift move, she hauled you up from the floor, twisting your wrist behind your back, the cold edge pressing against your throat.

Your breath hitched, your body trembling violently.

“Don’t move,” she hissed into your ear, her grip iron tight. “One step closer and she bleeds.”

At that very moment, the door cracked open under Jungkook’s last brutal kick — the wood splintering apart. He staggered in, eyes widening at the sight.

“YN!” His voice was broken, furious, frantic.

“Stay where you are, Jeon Jungkook,” Mrs. Kim spat, her tone dripping with venom. “You take one more step, and your precious little lover’s throat gets slit open right here.”

Jungkook froze, chest heaving, fists trembling at his sides. His eyes, burning black with rage, never left yours.

Behind him, Taehyung stumbled in, his face pale, horror carved into every line.

“Mom… stop this. Please…” His voice cracked. “Don’t hurt her—”

“Shut up!” she snapped, pressing the blade harder to your neck, making you wince. “You—of all people—don’t get to stop me. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you!”

“For me?!” Taehyung shouted, his tears spilling. “You killed for me? You destroyed her life for me? No, Mom—you ruined everything!”

Yoongi, Jimin, and Maria appeared at the broken doorway, all frozen in horror. No one dared move, the air suffocating with tension.

Jungkook’s voice dropped, low and lethal, each word shaking with controlled fury.

“Let. Her. Go.”

Mrs. Kim only smirked, her madness gleaming through. “Or what, Jungkook? You’ll kill me? Hm?” She pressed the knife closer, making you flinch. “Go on then, try—let’s see who bleeds first.”

Jungkook couldn’t hold back anymore. With a roar tearing out of his chest, he lunged forward.

“LET HER GO!”

But Mrs. Kim was quicker, her grip vicious. She yanked you backward, dragging you like a shield, and the blade nicked your skin — a thin red line forming at your throat.

You gasped in pain, body stiffening in terror.

“STOP!” she shrieked, tightening her hold. “One more move and I’ll slice her open right here!”

Jungkook froze mid-step, his chest heaving like a caged beast. His eyes widened at the sight of blood, his fury crashing against helplessness.

“Jungkook…” you whispered, your voice trembling, weak, but your eyes begged him not to lose himself completely.

His fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. He wanted to tear Mrs. Kim apart, but one wrong move would cost you your life.

Behind him, Yoongi’s sharp voice cut through the air.

“Jeon, stand down!”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, but he obeyed, stepping back reluctantly. His eyes stayed locked on you, dark and desperate.

Mrs. Kim laughed, the sound chilling. “Pathetic. Look at him. The mighty Jeon Jungkook, brought to his knees by a single girl.”

Taehyung’s body shook with rage, tears burning his eyes. “MOM, STOP! You’ll kill her—”

“Silence!” she snapped, her voice venomous. “If anyone takes another step, I’ll end her right here and now.”

The room thickened with fear. You could feel the knife pressing harder, the madness in Mrs. Kim’s grip.

Jungkook’s whole body was trembling. He wasn’t used to failing—never. But right now, he was powerless, and that was tearing him apart.

“Mom, listen to me!” Taehyung’s voice cracked, his hands lifting slowly as if he could calm her. “You don’t want to do this. Killing her won’t change anything—it’ll only destroy you completely.”

Mrs. Kim’s eyes snapped toward him, her grip tightening on you until you whimpered. “Shut up, Taehyung! Don’t call me ‘mom’ when you clearly despise me.”

“I’m begging you,” Taehyung pressed on, desperate, trying to move closer inch by inch. “Let her go. Hurt me instead, I’ll take her place. Just—please, don’t hurt YN.”

For a brief second, Mrs. Kim’s expression faltered, the knife trembling slightly. But then her lips curled into a cruel smirk.

“You think I’ll fall for your pathetic distractions? You were always weak. Always soft. Just like your father.”

Your eyes widened, terrified, as the blade pressed harder against your neck.

“Mom—” Taehyung stepped forward.

“DON’T!” she shrieked, dragging you back violently, nearly making you fall again. “One more step, Taehyung, and I swear I’ll kill her in front of all of you!”

Tears welled in his eyes, his lips trembling as he froze in place. He tried—he really did—but his words weren’t reaching her.

Behind him, Jungkook’s fists clenched so tight his nails dug into his palms. His veins bulged, his chest rising and falling like a storm barely contained. He was seconds away from snapping, his patience hanging by a thread.

Yoongi’s eyes darted between Jungkook and Mrs. Kim, tension coiled like a wire ready to snap.

The sound of the gunshot still echoed in the walls of the Kim mansion. Everyone froze, the air thick with the smell of gunpowder and blood.

Mrs. Kim’s body jerked as the bullet tore through her shoulder, sending her crashing back against the wall. Her knife slipped from her hand, clattering to the floor. She clutched her bleeding shoulder, screaming in agony.

But no one looked at her.

Because all eyes turned to you.

Your dress was soaked in crimson, the warm liquid spilling fast from your neck. Your lips parted, your breath faltering, eyes going hazy.

“YN!” Jungkook’s voice broke, raw and desperate. He caught you before your body hit the ground, cradling you in his arms like porcelain. His hands pressed against the wound frantically, his palms drenched in your blood.

“No, no, no—stay with me. Please. Look at me!” His voice shook as if his soul was being ripped apart. “Don’t you dare close your eyes on me, YN. Don’t you dare!”

Your gaze flickered weakly toward him, but darkness clouded your vision. The last thing you felt was the heat of his trembling hands and the pain twisting in his voice. Then—black.

“YN!” Jungkook screamed, his panic echoing like thunder.

“Quick! Hospital, NOW!” Jimin shouted, rushing forward with Maria. Sera’s hands were shaking as she pulled her scarf, tying it tightly around your wound to stop the bleeding.

“MOVE! Let’s go!” Jungkook barked, lifting you bridal-style as if you weighed nothing. His whole body trembled, his face pale with terror, but his grip on you was iron-strong.

They ran out of the mansion, Jimin and Maria clearing the way, Sera holding open the car door. Jungkook didn’t wait—he climbed in with you still in his arms, his hand never leaving your wound, his lips pressing against your forehead as tears streamed down his face.

“Don’t leave me, YN… Please. Not like this.”

Meanwhile inside the mansion…

Mr. Kim stood frozen, the gun still trembling in his hand. His face was drenched in sweat and tears, rage and regret etched in every wrinkle.

His lips trembled. “My… daughter. My little girl. All this time, I blamed her. All this time, I trusted you…” He glared at Mrs. Kim, his voice breaking into a growl, “…and you tried to kill her.”

Mrs. Kim sneered through the pain, clutching her shoulder. “You fool. You always were a fool. That girl was bound to destroy you. She’s her mother’s daughter. And now… now you’ll watch her die just like—”

“ENOUGH!” Taehyung’s voice cracked as he stepped forward, his eyes blazing with tears and fury. His chest heaved as he glared down at her. “You’re not my mother. You’re nothing. Just a monster.”

His fists clenched, his whole body trembling, yet his voice was steady. “You ruined everything. You destroyed lives. And you still laugh? You disgust me.”

For the first time, Mrs. Kim’s smile faltered, her son’s rejection cutting deeper than the bullet wound.

Yoongi, calm but deadly, stepped between them, his men rushing in behind him. “Take her,” he ordered coldly.

His men grabbed Mrs. Kim, ignoring her screams as they dragged her out. Yoongi’s gaze fell on Mr. Kim, whose body looked decades older in mere minutes. His shoulders slumped under the crushing weight of betrayal and guilt.

Yoongi spoke, his voice low but sharp as a blade. “Your punishment is living with the truth you ignored all these years. She almost destroyed your daughter. Pray she survives, or you’ll carry that blood on your hands forever.”

Mr. Kim’s knees buckled, the gun clattering to the ground. Silent tears streamed down his face.

Taehyung stood rooted in place, his heart splitting between hatred and grief, watching his mother disappear into Yoongi’s custody. His lips trembled, his eyes dark. She deserves this. But why does it hurt so much?

The car screeched into the hospital driveway, tires burning against the asphalt. Jungkook jumped out before the vehicle even stopped, carrying your limp body in his arms.

“HELP! Somebody help us!” His voice cracked as it boomed through the entrance. The automatic doors flew open, and nurses rushed forward with a stretcher.

But Jungkook didn’t let go.

“Sir—sir, please, put her down!” one of the nurses begged, wheeling the stretcher closer.

“No!” Jungkook snarled, clutching you tighter. His arms were trembling, his white shirt drenched in your blood. “If you touch her wrong—if you hurt her—” His voice broke as he looked down at your pale face. “I’m not risking her life in anyone else’s hands.”

“Jungkook!” Jimin grabbed his shoulders, his own eyes red from tears. “She’s dying! Let them do their job!”

“NO!” Jungkook barked, shaking his head violently, his tears dripping onto your face. “She’s not dying! Do you hear me? She’s not leaving me!”

Maria sobbed, covering her mouth, while Sera whispered desperate prayers under her breath.

A doctor pushed through the chaos. “Sir, listen to me—if you don’t let us take her now, we’ll lose her. Is that what you want?!”

Jungkook froze, his whole body rigid. His chest heaved as if he couldn’t breathe, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt. For a moment, he looked at the doctor like he was ready to fight him too.

Then his eyes fell back on you—your lashes still, your lips pale, your blood soaking his skin.

His arms trembled. His lips grazed your forehead.

“Please… come back to me,” he whispered, voice shattering. Finally, with a broken sob, he lowered you onto the stretcher, his hands refusing to leave yours.

The doctors rushed you down the hall, but Jungkook ran alongside, gripping your fingers like a lifeline. “I’m here! YN, don’t close your eyes! Do you hear me? I’m not letting you go!”

Security tried to hold him back at the OR doors, but he fought, his fists swinging, his voice a roar of raw desperation.

“You think you can keep me from her?! I’ll tear this whole place down before I let her die alone!”

“Jungkook, stop!” Jimin grabbed him, pinning him back, his own tears spilling. “She needs them right now—don’t make it worse!”

Jungkook collapsed to his knees outside the OR, his head in his bloody hands. His chest heaved with ragged sobs, the sound of a man shattered, broken, terrified.

Maria knelt beside him, stroking his back, her own voice trembling. “She’s strong, Jungkook. She’ll fight. She always fights.”

Sera wiped her tears furiously, whispering like a vow, “YN isn’t leaving us. Not now. Not ever.”

The red Emergency Surgery light flicked on above the doors.

And Jungkook sat there on the cold floor, his bloodied hands shaking, whispering your name over and over, like a prayer, like a curse, like the only thing keeping him alive.

The waiting room that once buzzed with quiet chatter now felt like a graveyard. Silence pressed against everyone’s lungs, heavy and unbearable.

And in the middle of it all was Jeon Jungkook—

The boy who never broke.

The man who never cried.

The leader who never showed weakness.

Now he was on his knees, blood-stained hands pressed together like a desperate prayer, tears streaming freely down his face. His shoulders shook violently as he choked out her name again and again, his voice cracking each time like it was the last breath in his chest.

Jin had just arrived, and the sight made his heart plummet. He had seen Jungkook angry, ruthless, merciless. But this? This was different. This wasn’t rage. This was grief. Fear. Love.

Jin moved forward, placing a hand on Jungkook’s trembling shoulder, but the younger man only broke harder, clutching at Jin’s coat like a lost child.

“Hyung… she—she was bleeding in my arms,” Jungkook sobbed, his voice raw, broken, and unrecognizable. “I couldn’t stop it… I couldn’t save her… what if she never opens her eyes again?”

Yoongi stood silently, his jaw clenched, his usually sharp eyes softened with something close to pain. He had seen Jungkook fight wars without flinching, seen him take bullets without a sound. But now, just the thought of losing her was enough to tear him into pieces.

Sera and Jimin sat on the edge of their seats, crying quietly. Watching him like this shattered them, because Jeon Jungkook was supposed to be indestructible. He was the wall no one could climb, the fire no one could burn. Yet here he was—falling apart for a girl he was once supposed to hate.

For YN.

And in that moment, everyone realized something terrifying and beautiful at once:

She wasn’t just his weakness.

She was his everything.

Jungkook’s POV

The waiting room was too bright. Too clean. Too suffocating.

I sat there, my hands drenched in her blood, staring at them like they belonged to someone else. Every time I blinked, I saw her face—pale, trembling, whispering my name before she went limp in my arms.

My chest heaved.

My throat burned.

And all I could hear was the echo of her voice: “Jungkook, why is this happening to me?”

I slammed my fists into the cold floor, blood smearing against the tiles. “Why her?! Why always her?!” My scream tore through the silence, making Maria and Sera jump, both of them sobbing quietly in the corner.

Jimin tried to reach for me, but I shoved his hand away. I didn’t want comfort. I wanted her.

My head dropped into my palms, the smell of iron and her perfume mixing, burning my lungs. I remembered every smile she gave me, every time she clung to me, every soft “I hate you” whispered against my skin. And the thought of never hearing it again made my entire soul shatter.

The OR light was still red. The longer it stayed, the deeper the dread clawed at my chest.

Across the room, Taehyung sat hunched over, silent. His fists were tight, his face pale, eyes full of a guilt that didn’t belong to him but still consumed him. He stared at the floor like he couldn’t bear to look at anyone.

“You,” I spat, my voice hoarse, eyes burning holes into him. Taehyung flinched, lifting his gaze slowly. “If you regret her pain even a little, then swear to me—your mother will never breathe peace again.”

His lips trembled, but he didn’t deny it. He just nodded, eyes glistening. “I already swore that, Jungkook… to myself.”

The doors banged open, making everyone jerk.

Yoongi walked in, sharp and heavy, his face a storm. “Where is she?” His voice was low, dangerous, but his eyes flickered with concern.

“She’s inside,” Jimin whispered, wiping his tears. “Neck wound… too much blood.”

Yoongi’s jaw flexed, his hands curling into fists. He turned to me, but I couldn’t look at him. My whole body shook with one thought only: What if I lose her?

Footsteps echoed again. Mr. Kim stumbled inside, his face pale, his shirt stained with Mrs. Kim’s blood. His eyes widened when he saw me, then flicked to the glowing red light above the OR. “Y–YN… my daughter… is she—?”

“Stop.”

My voice sliced through the room, cold, venomous.

I stood, towering in front of him, blocking his path. My blood-stained hand pressed against his chest, shoving him back. My glare burned into him, my words trembling with rage.

“You don’t get to call her your daughter. Not after what you did to her. Not after what you let happen all these years.”

He froze, guilt flashing in his eyes. His lips parted, but no words came out.

“You’re not stepping a foot closer to her,” I growled, my voice low but deadly. “If she survives… if she breathes again… she won’t need you. She’ll never need you.”

His face crumpled, his body shaking with silent regret.

But I didn’t care.

I only cared about one thing—

Behind that door, fighting for her life.

I clenched my fists tighter, my eyes locked on the red light above.

“YN… don’t you dare leave me,” I whispered under my breath.

The doors finally swung open, and the doctor stepped out, mask pulled down, his face etched with exhaustion. Everyone shot to their feet instantly—Jungkook’s eyes red, swollen, but burning with desperate hope.

“She’s stable now,” the doctor said firmly, and a collective breath left the room, like life had been poured back into their lungs. “The bleeding was heavy, but we managed to stop it. She lost a lot of blood, so she’ll feel weak and dizzy when she wakes up. For now, she’s unconscious—but out of danger.”

Jungkook’s knees nearly gave out. His chest heaved as a sob tore free, one hand slapping over his face as he dragged in the deepest, most relieved breath of his life. He almost collapsed if Jin hadn’t caught him, steadying his trembling frame.

Everyone else sagged into their seats, some crying softly, some whispering thanks under their breath.

But Jungkook didn’t care about anything or anyone else. The words “stable now” repeated in his mind like a lifeline. His entire body slumped with relief, and for the first time since he carried her bleeding body in his arms—he allowed himself to breathe.

The moment the doctor’s words landed, the waiting room shifted. Everyone exhaled in shaky relief, but the emotions were far from calm.

Jungkook nearly collapsed, his hands shaking as he pressed them against his knees, head bowed, tears dripping onto the floor. Jin’s hand stayed steady on his shoulder, grounding him. “She’s safe now,” Jin whispered, but Jungkook only shook his head, voice breaking, “Safe? She was in my arms bleeding out, hyung… I thought I lost her.”

Taehyung sat frozen in his chair, both hands clawing into his hair. His face was pale, his lips trembling. His voice cracked as he whispered, “Because of my mother… she almost died again because of her. I–I should have protected her… I should’ve…” His words broke into raw sobs, and Sera pulled him into her arms, whispering over and over, “It’s not your fault. Not you. Never you.”

Mr. Kim stood like stone in the corner, trembling violently, his face a storm of guilt and horror. His hands—still remembering the recoil of the gun—shook as he gripped the wall. “My daughter…” he rasped, voice hollow, “All these years, I hated her… blamed her… when it was me. I destroyed her life with my blindness…” He choked, falling into the chair like a broken man.

Yoongi was the only one who remained standing, his arms folded across his chest, sharp eyes narrowing at Mr. Kim. “Don’t you dare call yourself her father right now,” he said flatly, his voice cutting through the room like ice. “A father doesn’t let his child suffer like that. You don’t get to weep over her when you’re half the reason she’s here.”

Mr. Kim flinched, his lips trembling, but he didn’t argue—because Yoongi was right.

Jimin wiped at his face, whispering almost to himself, “She fought through all of that… and she’s still here. Still breathing. God, she’s stronger than all of us.”

Through it all, Jungkook stood suddenly, startling everyone. His face was streaked with tears, but his eyes were sharp again. He didn’t say a word, just stormed toward the ICU doors, ignoring Jin’s warning to wait. His chest ached, his body weak, but nothing could hold him back. He needed to see you.

Inside the recovery room

Machines beeped softly, filling the silence. You lay pale against the hospital bed, oxygen mask over your face, IVs running through your arms. Bandages covered your neck, stained faintly red, but you were alive.

Jungkook staggered closer, his throat closing at the sight. He pulled a chair right beside you, falling into it, his forehead pressing against your hand as he held it tight.

“Ynahh…” his voice cracked, breaking into a whisper, “you scared the hell out of me. Don’t—don’t ever do that again.” His tears fell freely, his thumb stroking over your cold fingers. “I thought I lost you. I can’t—I won’t survive it if I ever do. So please… fight. For me. For us.”

The room outside was chaos—guilt, rage, grief, Yoongi’s authority silencing Mr. Kim—but here, inside, it was only Jungkook and you. His world. His reason. His everything.

Mr. Kim sat slumped forward, both hands pressed over his face. His shoulders shook with every ragged breath, and the weight of years—the blind trust, the cruelty toward his own daughter, the betrayal—crushed him like a mountain.

“I… I don’t deserve to even call her mine,” he whispered hoarsely, voice breaking, “All this time, I hated her… blamed her for sins that were never hers. And while I was blind, while I was cruel, she was just a child. My child. And I… abandoned her.” His words collapsed into a sob, raw and pitiful.

The room fell into heavy silence, only broken by Taehyung’s unsteady voice. He hadn’t lifted his eyes, his fists trembling against his knees. “Hyung…” he rasped, turning to Yoongi, “Where is she? My—” he swallowed the word hard, pain lacing every syllable, “Where’s my mother?”

Yoongi’s gaze was sharp as steel, unreadable. He didn’t flinch at Taehyung’s broken tone. “She’s in good care,” he answered coldly, his arms folded. “My men have her secured in another wing. She’s not going anywhere.”

Taehyung closed his eyes, pain twisting in his chest. Good care. He knew exactly what that meant in Yoongi’s vocabulary—alive, but controlled. No freedom. No escape.

Jungkook, comes out. His voice came low, rough, but steady, slicing through the tension in the room.

“No one touches her,” he said firmly. Everyone’s eyes turned to him. His jaw was locked, his eyes dark. “Not until Yn wakes up. Not until she decides.”

Jimin blinked, whispering, “Jungkook…”

But Jungkook’s gaze burned, unrelenting. “Mrs. Kim destroyed her life, killed her mother, almost took her away from me tonight. That woman’s fate isn’t for anyone else to decide. Not me, not Yoongi-hyung, not you,” he cut a glance at Taehyung and then Mr. Kim, who flinched. His voice lowered to a dangerous growl. “Only her. Only Yn gets to decide what we do to that monster.”

The room went silent again, but this time, the silence wasn’t heavy—it was powerful, filled with the gravity of his words.

The night dragged on, slow and suffocating. The sterile white of the hospital walls seemed to close in, the tick of the clock mocking every anxious breath. No one went home. Not even when Jungkook insisted.

“I’ll stay. You all should rest,” he had said, his voice low, his hand still locked around yours. But not one of them moved.

Jimin was sitting slouched in the corner chair, hands clasped tightly like he was praying, his eyes fixed on the floor. Sera refused to close her eyes, constantly glancing between your still body and the door as if guarding against shadows. Maria had fetched blankets and draped them over shoulders, her way of silently saying we’re in this together.

Yoongi stood by the window, arms folded, but his gaze kept flickering to Jungkook—reading the tremble of his shoulders, the hidden storm in his eyes. Taehyung sat alone against the wall, head resting back, his expression hollow, fighting both guilt and grief. Mr. Kim, broken, was on his knees beside the door, whispering apologies only the night could hear.

The silence wasn’t just silence. It was proof. Proof that this wasn’t just a group of people tied by circumstance. They were bound deeper now, not just by love or blood or revenge, but by pain—and by the fierce refusal to let go of you.

Family. Not by name, but by choice.

And in the middle of it, Jeon Jungkook sat by your bed, his head resting on your hand, his dark hair falling forward. He didn’t cry anymore—he had cried enough—but his grip said everything. If you slipped, even for a second, he’d go with you.

Not one of them thought of leaving. Not one of them could.

Because leaving you and Jungkook alone tonight felt impossible.

They weren’t just friends anymore. They were family. And family doesn’t leave each other—not in the night, not in fear, not ever.

The night stretched endlessly, broken only by the occasional hum of machines and the shallow sound of your breathing. Everyone had drifted into an uneasy half-sleep, sprawled across chairs and couches, but no one truly rested.

Then—morning light seeped through the blinds.

The first movement was small. Your fingers twitched against the sheets. Jungkook’s head jerked up instantly, bloodshot eyes widening. “Y/n…” he whispered, almost scared to believe it.

The room shifted. Sera straightened, Maria nudged Jimin awake, Taehyung lifted his head from where it had rested against the wall. Even Yoongi moved from his still position by the window, his cold mask cracking just slightly.

Your lips parted, a faint sound escaping—weak, breathless. Jungkook immediately leaned closer, clutching your hand like it was the only thing anchoring him. “I’m here, I’m right here,” he said quickly, voice trembling, desperate.

Your eyelids fluttered, heavy, then slowly opened. The blurred faces came into focus—Jungkook’s closest, and behind him, all of them. All waiting, all holding their breath like the world would stop if you didn’t speak.

Your throat felt raw, your voice barely a whisper. “…Jungkook?”

That single word broke him. His forehead pressed against your hand as relief crashed through his chest, his shoulders shaking. Behind him, Sera let out a sob, Jimin exhaled shakily, Maria covered her mouth, Taehyung’s eyes welled, and even Mr. Kim closed his eyes with trembling regret.

You were awake. Alive.

And in that fragile moment, with morning light pouring over the room, no one could deny it anymore—this wasn’t just survival. This was rebirth.

You tried to push yourself up, but the second your arm flexed, Jungkook’s hand pressed gently but firmly against your shoulder.

“No,” he said, voice low but leaving no room for argument. “Don’t. Just lie down.” His eyes searched your pale face, terrified you might faint again.

Your lips pressed into a thin line, but you didn’t fight him this time. Instead, you let your gaze wander across the room. One by one, familiar faces met yours—Sera, Maria, Jimin, Yoongi, Taehyung… all of them carrying worry in their eyes.

But then your eyes stopped.

Mr. Kim.

He stood slightly apart from the rest, shoulders hunched, his hands trembling as he twisted his wedding ring around his finger. His face was drained of its usual authority—no arrogance, no pride, only misery and a guilt so raw it twisted your stomach.

He looked at you like a man drowning, desperate for air he didn’t deserve.

Your chest tightened. Your throat worked, but no words came out at first. The truth hung heavy in the air between you—he was your father, and he had failed you, again and again.

Silence filled the room, so loud it pressed against your ears.

Jungkook followed your gaze, jaw clenching, ready to step between you if needed. But he didn’t. He just stayed close, hand never leaving yours, letting you decide.

Mr. Kim finally broke. His lips parted, voice shaking, the man who once seemed untouchable now barely holding himself together.

“Y/n…” he whispered, almost like he wasn’t worthy of saying your name.

Mr. Kim took one unsteady step closer, his voice breaking apart.

“Y/n… I—I don’t deserve to even look at you after what I’ve done. I failed you as a father. I let her… I let that woman destroy everything. I should’ve protected you, I should’ve—” his words choked into silence, eyes burning with unshed tears.

Then, before anyone could react, he dropped to his knees. His hands pressed together as if in prayer, trembling, his voice raw and broken.

“Forgive me. Please… forgive me. I can’t take back the years I let her hurt you, I can’t erase what you went through. But I swear to you, from this moment, if you want my life in exchange for your pain, I’ll give it. Just… just don’t hate me as much as I hate myself.”

The room went silent. Sera gasped softly. Taehyung looked away, jaw tight, eyes glistening. Even Yoongi’s unreadable mask flickered at the sight of the once-proud man on his knees.

You froze, staring at him.

Forgive? How could you?

Your whole body trembled. It wasn’t just about him being cold, or distant, or absent. No. He hadn’t just failed you—he let it happen. He closed his eyes while your world burned. He believed the lies instead of seeing your truth. He let you grow up unloved, unwanted, with the weight of his indifference crushing you.

Jungkook’s grip on your hand tightened, steadying you. His eyes, sharp with fury, never left Mr. Kim—but he didn’t speak. This was your choice. Your wound. Your words.

Your chest heaved as you tried to steady your voice, but it cracked anyway.

“You want forgiveness?” you whispered, your eyes narrowing, filling with tears. “You don’t deserve it. Not now. Not ever.”

Mr. Kim’s face crumpled, but you weren’t done.

“You didn’t ruin my life—you let her ruin it. You stood by, silent, while she tore everything apart. Do you have any idea what that feels like? To be alive, but to feel like no one… no one wanted you?”

Your voice broke into a sob, but you glared at him anyway. “You let it happen. And you think ‘sorry’ is enough? That begging is enough?!”

Your chest was heaving so violently it hurt, every breath scraping your throat raw. Tears blurred your vision until all you could see was Mr. Kim’s broken frame on the floor, and it only made the rage burn hotter, heavier, unbearable inside you.

“You let her kill my mother!” you screamed, your voice ripping through the silence like a blade. “You let her poison me, take everything from me — and you believed her! You hated me because it was easy, because it was easier than looking at the truth! Do you know what that did to me?!”

You were shaking so hard your stitches ached, your throat burned with sobs. You gripped the bedsheet until your knuckles went white, wanting to rip it apart, wanting to tear something — anything — to match the storm inside you.

Jungkook moved instantly, climbing onto the bed, pulling you into his chest before you could completely unravel. His arms locked around you like chains, his voice trembling against your ear.

“Stop—YN, stop, you’ll hurt yourself,” he begged, his own tears hot on your hair. “Don’t do this to yourself, please. Don’t let him take more from you than he already has.”

But you thrashed weakly against him, your nails clawing at his shirt. “No—let me go! I can’t—he doesn’t get to stand here and cry and call himself my father! He doesn’t—” Your voice cracked into broken sobs, and suddenly you weren’t fighting anymore, you were collapsing, limp in Jungkook’s arms.

He cupped your face, forcing you to look at him, even as your tears kept spilling. “YN, look at me. Look at me. I’ve got you. You’re safe. Don’t destroy yourself over him. Don’t give him that power. Please.” His voice broke, raw and desperate.

Yoongi turned his face away, jaw tight, unable to watch more. Jimin covered his mouth with his hand, tears streaming silently. Sera was crying into Maria’s shoulder. Even Taehyung, usually so composed, was frozen, his hands curling into fists, guilt and pain carved deep into his features.

Mr. Kim was still on his knees, shaking, eyes glassy with despair. “She’s right,” he whispered hoarsely. “I don’t deserve to be her father. I don’t deserve forgiveness. But YN—” his voice cracked, “—I love you. Even if I failed, even if it’s too late, I do. Please… just know that.”

You buried your face in Jungkook’s chest, sobbing so hard it felt like your ribs might break. And Jungkook—Jeon Jungkook, the man who never bowed, never broke—held you like he was holding onto his very life, whispering against your hair over and over:

“You’re not alone. Not anymore. Not ever again.”

The silence after Jungkook’s trembling words was suffocating, broken only by your sobs against his chest. Mr. Kim stayed on his knees, shaking, whispering apologies that no one in the room wanted to hear anymore.

Then, for the first time, Taehyung moved.

He stepped forward slowly, his jaw set, his eyes burning with a storm no one could quite read. He crouched beside Mr. Kim, voice sharp but shaking.

“Stop it,” Taehyung snapped, his tone cutting through the heavy air. “Stop begging her when you know damn well you don’t deserve it.”

Mr. Kim’s head whipped toward him, stunned, but Taehyung’s expression only hardened. “You’re not the only one who feels betrayed, Dad. You think you’re the victim here? You think your guilt erases what she went through?” He gestured at you trembling in Jungkook’s arms, his voice breaking. “She’s bleeding—inside and out—because of you. Because you closed your eyes every time Mom raised her hand.”

The words stung like acid. Mr. Kim’s lips parted but no sound came out.

Taehyung’s shoulders trembled. His voice cracked as he went on, quieter now. “Do you know how it feels for me? To stand here, your son, the son of the woman who destroyed everything? To look at her—” his gaze flicked to you, eyes softening with guilt, “—and know that the blood running in my veins ties me to her pain?”

Everyone froze. The weight of his confession pressed down, raw and unfiltered.

“Don’t you dare beg her,” Taehyung said finally, voice raw, tears glistening. “The only thing you should beg for is punishment. And until she decides if she even wants to look at you again, stay the hell away.”

Jungkook’s arms tightened around you as if to shield you from every word, every sharp edge in the room. But his gaze met Taehyung’s across the space—silent, dark, acknowledging that for once, Taehyung had said what Jungkook himself wanted to unleash.

Yoongi, who had been silent far too long, finally moved. His steps echoed in the sterile hospital room, his presence commanding without effort. He came to stand between Mr. Kim and the bed, his voice sharp but controlled.

“That’s enough.”

The weight of his tone silenced everything—the broken sobs, the gasps, even Mr. Kim’s trembling apologies.

He looked at you, his expression softening just slightly. “Yn, you need rest. All this noise, all this… guilt, it’s eating you alive. You just survived something none of us can even begin to measure.” His gaze flicked briefly to Mr. Kim, then to Taehyung. “Right now, you don’t owe anyone words. Not forgiveness. Not explanations. Nothing.”

His hand pressed gently to your shoulder, grounding. “Rest. That’s your only job.”

Everyone seemed to understand the unspoken command. Slowly, Jimin tugged Maria toward the door, Sera guided Taehyung out despite his protests, and even Mr. Kim staggered back, defeated, tears spilling down his face as he followed.

The room emptied—except for Jungkook.

He hadn’t moved an inch. His grip around your hand was iron, his body pressed against your side as if letting go meant losing you again.

Yoongi’s eyes softened as he watched him, but his words carried a quiet weight. “You should rest too, Jungkook. She’s safe now.”

But Jungkook shook his head without looking up. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, his voice a whisper rough with exhaustion.

“I’m not leaving her. Not tonight. Not again.”

Yoongi didn’t argue. He simply gave a long, knowing sigh, muttered something under his breath about Jeon Jungkook being impossible, and turned off the bright overhead lights before leaving the two of you alone in the dim hospital glow.

The storm had passed, leaving you trembling but quieter. Jungkook never once let go of you, his palm always on your back or your hand, steady and unshakable. When your breathing steadied, he leaned down, brushing his lips against your damp temple.

“Let’s get you freshened up, hm? You’ll feel lighter.”

You didn’t protest, too weak to move on your own. Carefully, he slipped his arm under your knees and the other around your back, lifting you as if you weighed nothing. He carried you into the small adjoining washroom, setting you gently on the stool. He wet a towel, his touch careful, wiping away the dried streaks of blood, sweat, and tears.

His fingers lingered at your jaw, his gaze tender. “There… much better. My strong girl.”

When he was finished, he guided you back to bed, tucking the blanket around you like he was afraid the world might steal you if he didn’t. The tray of hospital food sat untouched on the table, and Jungkook brought it over, sitting beside you.

“You need to eat,” he murmured, breaking the silence. When you weakly shook your head, his eyes darkened. “Yn. Please.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he was already spooning up a bit of the porridge, holding it to your lips. His tone softened, almost pleading. “For me. Just a little.”

Your heart clenched. He looked so fragile under the weight of worry, so unlike the cold, unshakable Jungkook the world knew. Slowly, you parted your lips, taking the spoon. He gave a small smile, relief flickering in his eyes, and fed you patiently bite after bite—never rushing, never looking away from you.

When you finished, he set the tray aside and lay down beside you, pulling you against his chest. His voice was a whisper against your hair.

“You’re safe now, Yn. I’ll take care of you… always.”

Two days crawled by inside the sterile white walls of the hospital. And in those forty-eight hours, Jungkook never once left your side. He slept in the hard chair pressed against your bed, his head sometimes resting near your hand, sometimes against your shoulder, but always close.

He didn’t let anyone come near you—not even the nurses without his sharp gaze following their every move. And especially not Mr. Kim. Every time Mr. Kim tried to step forward, guilt painted across his face, Jungkook’s eyes would turn to steel. One glare was enough to freeze him in place.

If you so much as shifted in your sleep, Jungkook’s hand would tighten around yours. If your breath hitched in a nightmare, his voice would cut through immediately—low, soothing, desperate. “Shh, baby, I’m here. Nothing can touch you now. Not while I’m breathing.”

He made sure you didn’t cry, made sure no one’s words upset you, made sure the world was locked out and you were wrapped only in safety.

By the second day, the doctors finally gave the word: you were stable enough to leave. The wound on your neck was healing, though you were still weak.

Jungkook’s shoulders finally eased, just a little, when the doctor handed over the discharge papers. He signed them without hesitation, his hand firm, as if this moment was a battle won. Then, carefully—like you were glass—he wrapped his arm around you, helping you off the hospital bed.

“Easy… I’ve got you,” he whispered, adjusting his grip so your weight rested fully against him.

Everyone else—Yoongi, Jimin, Maria, Sera, even Taehyung and Mr. Kim—stood back, watching silently. But Jungkook didn’t even look at them. His entire world was you, and nothing else.

As he carried you out of the hospital doors, the sunlight hit your face for the first time in days. And though you felt fragile, exhausted, the warmth of his chest beneath your cheek reminded you: you weren’t alone anymore. Not with him holding you like this.

Jungkook didn’t let you walk much on your own. Even when you insisted weakly, he silenced you with a sharp shake of his head, lifting you into his arms without another word.

“I said I’ve got you,” he muttered, his jaw set, his tone brooking no argument. And he carried you all the way through the hospital doors, out into the waiting car.

On the ride back, his arm never left you. His hand cupped the side of your neck gently, his thumb brushing against the bandage as if to shield it from even the air. Every time you shifted uncomfortably, he immediately adjusted the pillows, adjusted his hold, murmured, “Tell me if it hurts. I’ll fix it.”

The others rode in silence, Yoongi’s sharp eyes on the road, Jimin and Maria exchanging worried glances, Sera keeping her hand quietly on Taehyung’s arm to steady him. But Jungkook didn’t notice anyone. His whole attention was locked on you—counting your breaths, brushing strands of hair from your face, tightening his hold when your eyelids drooped.

By the time the car pulled up to the Jeon mansion, Mrs. Jeon and Mr. Jeon were already waiting outside.

“Baby!” Mrs. Jeon rushed forward, her hands trembling. Jungkook stepped out first, carefully lifting you in his arms again, as if letting you walk would shatter you.

“Careful,” he warned softly when Mrs. Jeon reached out. He adjusted his grip so she could touch your cheek without jostling you.

The moment her fingers grazed your skin, your lips trembled. You hadn’t realized until now how much you missed this—a mother’s touch, soft and tender, with no blood, no fear, no cruelty behind it.

Mrs. Jeon’s eyes flooded with tears. “You’re safe now, my daughter. You’re home.”

Mr. Jeon, usually so composed, placed a firm hand on your shoulder, his expression grave but soft. “From now on, no one touches you. You’re our family. Our responsibility.”

Inside the mansion, Mrs. Jeon immediately guided Jungkook to bring you to your room. She sat beside you, feeding you from her own hands like you were a child again. Each bite, she whispered softly, “Good girl… just a little more… stay strong.”

Jungkook stayed glued to your side, watching every motion, his hand still clasped around yours on the blanket. Only when Mrs. Jeon stroked your hair and told him, “She’s with her mother now, you can breathe a little,” did he lean back against the headboard, exhaustion momentarily cracking through his armor.

And when night fell, Jungkook pulled you into his arms, holding you like he’d never let go. His chin rested on your head, his grip protective but gentle, and in that moment—with the warmth of the Jeons surrounding you, and Jungkook’s heartbeat steady in your ear—you felt, maybe for the first time in years, what it was like to truly have a family again.

Your eyes lingered on him in the dim light of the room. His arms were still around you even in sleep, his hand resting protectively over your waist as though his body itself refused to let you go.

For three days straight, Jungkook hadn’t allowed himself rest. You remembered the way he had held your hand in the hospital, the way his voice shook every time he begged the doctors to save you, the way his eyes never left your face when you lay unconscious. He had carried your fear, your pain, your memories, and now… you could see the toll it took on him.

His lashes cast shadows against his cheeks, his lips slightly parted. But what caught you most were the dark circles under his eyes—so heavy, so deep, like bruises of his devotion. You reached up hesitantly, brushing your fingertips across his cheek.

“You’re so stubborn…” you whispered softly, almost guilty. “You never let me go. Not even for a second. And look at you now…”

Jungkook stirred faintly at your touch, his brows furrowing for a second before his features relaxed again, as if even in sleep, he recognized you. He instinctively tightened his hold on you, pulling you closer against his chest.

Your throat tightened. You wanted to cry, not because of the pain in your body, but because of the weight he silently carried for you. He had burned himself out to keep you safe, to keep you from feeling alone in the dark, and you realized now just how much of his strength he poured into you without asking for anything back.

Leaning closer, you pressed your lips lightly to his forehead, a kiss soft as a feather.

“Sleep, Jungkook,” you whispered, your voice trembling with tenderness. “I’ll watch over you this time.”

For the first time, you stayed awake just to look at him—memorizing his tired face, promising yourself you’d find a way to lighten his burden, to give him the peace he gave you.

The Jeon living room was dimly lit, the silence broken only by the soft clink of cups being set down on the table. Everyone was gathered—Yoongi leaning back on the couch, Jimin restless with his fingers tapping against his knee, Maria curled into the armrest, and Taehyung sitting with his head bowed, lost in thought.

It was Jimin who finally spoke, his voice low but heavy with meaning.

“Who would’ve thought… those two? Jungkook and Yn. They couldn’t even stand breathing the same air once. Now look at them.”

Maria gave a small smile, her gaze thoughtful. “It’s strange, isn’t it? Their relationship wasn’t something either of them wanted. It was forced, unwanted, a chain. But now… those chains have turned into something else. Something they cling to.”

Yoongi scoffed softly, though there was no malice in it. “Jungkook used to spit venom whenever her name came up. Said he hated her. That she was nothing but trouble. But now? He hates the thought of hating her. He hates even remembering he once did.”

Taehyung finally lifted his head, his voice quiet but raw. “And she… she couldn’t tolerate him, not even for a second. I saw it with my own eyes—how cold she was to him, how distant. But tonight, the way she looked at him? She only wanted him. No one else. Just him.”

Silence stretched, their thoughts heavy. The image of Jungkook, breaking down in the hospital, crying for her, refusing to let go of her hand—it was burned into all their memories.

Maria whispered, almost to herself, “It’s like they were thrown into fire… but instead of burning apart, they melted into each other.”

Yoongi’s lips curved slightly at that, though his eyes stayed sharp. “That’s the thing about people like them. They’re carved out of pain, but when they find the one who matches their scars, it becomes… dangerous. Powerful.”

Jimin leaned back, sighing. “Dangerous or not, one thing’s clear—Jungkook isn’t just protecting her anymore. He’s living for her.”

And though none of them said it aloud, the truth hung in the air like an unspoken vow: Yn was no longer just his wife by name—she had become his reason.

Mr. and Mrs. Jeon sat quietly in their bedroom, the weight of the last few days still heavy in the air. Mrs. Jeon folded her hands in her lap, her brows furrowed, her heart lingering on the image of Jungkook—her strong, unshakable son—crumbling at your hospital bedside.

She broke the silence first.

“He’s changed… hasn’t he?” Her voice was soft, almost fragile.

Mr. Jeon, who had been staring out the window, exhaled slowly. “Changed? No. He’s… revealed. This is who he really is, always has been. That boy puts on an armor, pretends he doesn’t care, pretends he’s stone. But with her…” He shook his head, his lips pressing into a line. “With her, the mask is gone. And for the first time, I see my son’s heart.”

Mrs. Jeon’s eyes softened, tears threatening to brim. “I used to worry, you know. That he’d live his whole life shutting people out. That he’d only know power and anger, and never love. But… when I saw him holding her, begging the doctors, refusing to let her go—” she broke off, her hand trembling against her chest. “I’ve never seen him so desperate. So afraid of losing someone.”

Her husband’s jaw tightened, a rare crack in his usual composure. “And I’ve never seen him so alive.”

They sat in silence for a while, the weight of it all wrapping around them. Mrs. Jeon leaned against her husband’s shoulder. “That girl… she may not have had a family for so long, but I swear, she was made for ours. For him.”

Mr. Jeon placed his hand over hers, voice low but resolute. “She’s not just his wife anymore. She’s his anchor. And anyone who tries to take her away from him—” His eyes darkened, dangerous even in the quiet of their home. “—will have to face all of us.”

And though the room was still, there was a quiet certainty between them: their son was no longer fighting alone, and neither were you.

Sera had tiptoed into your room with the intention of waking you up for breakfast, but the moment her eyes landed on the bed, her lips parted into the widest grin.

There you were—snuggled tightly into Jungkook’s chest, his arm draped over you protectively, his face buried in your hair as if even in sleep he couldn’t let you go. The steady rhythm of his breathing made it clear he was deep in exhaustion, but even then, his hold on you was unyielding.

Sera froze at the door, her teasing remark dying in her throat. Instead, her eyes softened. After everything—the nightmares, the blood, the screams, the hospital… finally, finally, there was peace.

Her lips quirked into a mischievous smile as she carefully pulled out her phone. Click. One photo. Click. Another. She giggled under her breath, clapping her hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t wake you.

“Oppa, who would’ve thought you’d end up like this?” she whispered playfully, her grin growing wider. “The mighty Jeon Jungkook, wrapped around his wife like a baby koala.”

Just as she turned to sneak out, she glanced back one more time, her heart unexpectedly warm. For the first time, she didn’t just see her cold, untouchable brother and the girl he was forced to marry—she saw two people who needed each other more than they would ever admit.

And deep down, she thought: Maybe they were meant to be, after all.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, the soft morning light slipping past the curtains. For a second, you didn’t move—just lay there, staring at the man holding you so tightly.

Jungkook.

His lashes rested on his cheeks, his mouth slightly parted in the faintest pout. His arm still circled you, possessive even in sleep, his warmth pressing against you like a shield. For the first time, you weren’t afraid to look at him this close.

Almost without thinking, your fingers moved—grazing along his jawline, tracing the curve of his cheekbone. His skin was warm under your touch. Then your fingertip brushed across his lips, feather-light. Those lips. The same ones that had kissed you—twice.

The memory hit you like a rush. That first kiss, raw and desperate, when you were too broken to even register it. And then the second, softer but no less consuming, when he tried to remind you you weren’t alone. You had been too shattered to feel them then. But now… now, lying in his arms, the weight of those moments made your throat dry.

You gulped. Unknowingly, your finger lingered at the corner of his mouth, your heart hammering as though you’d been caught.

And then—

“Good morning,” his husky voice vibrated against your skin, low and rough from sleep.

Your eyes shot wide, your hand snapping back. His lids lifted lazily, those dark orbs locking on you. A slow, sleepy smile tugged at his lips.

Before you could process, his arm tightened, pulling you closer into his chest. His body molded against yours, protective, needy.

But then—

“Ah—!” you hissed in pain, the sharp sting from your neck wound making you flinch.

Jungkook’s eyes flew open fully, his entire body stiffening. He jerked back immediately, panic flooding his face. “Shit—YN! Did I—did I hurt you?!” His voice cracked with urgency, his hands trembling as they hovered above you, unsure whether to touch you or not.

You shook your head quickly, though your lips pressed together at the lingering ache.

But Jungkook wasn’t convinced. His breathing came out fast, erratic. He cupped your face gently, his thumb stroking your cheek like you were made of glass. “God, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean—I wasn’t thinking—fuck, I should’ve been careful.”

His eyes were wild, almost guilty, like he’d just committed a crime.

“Jungkook…” you whispered softly, trying to calm him.

But he was already pulling away the blanket, checking your bandages with shaking hands, his voice frantic. “Does it hurt bad? Should I call the doctor? Damn it, I shouldn’t have pulled you—why can’t I just control myself—”

His breakdown was right there, raw and open, for you to see.

Your hand darted out, catching his wrist before he could completely unravel. His skin was cold, trembling under your touch.

“Jungkook…” your voice was firmer this time, softer but enough to make him freeze. His eyes snapped to yours—dark, frantic, searching.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, holding his wrist tighter so he wouldn’t pull away. “It was just a little sting. I promise.”

He shook his head, jaw clenched so tight the veins in his neck stood out. “You hissed in pain, YN. That’s not fine. You’re still healing—damn it, I should’ve—” His voice cracked, and for a second he shut his eyes, like he couldn’t even stand the thought of being the cause of your hurt.

Your chest tightened painfully. This wasn’t the cold, untouchable Jeon Jungkook the world knew. This was the man who hadn’t slept in three days, who stayed glued to your side, who was breaking because of you.

You lifted your other hand and gently cupped his cheek, forcing him to look at you. “Jungkook. Listen to me.”

His breath hitched as his wide eyes locked on yours.

“You didn’t hurt me,” you said softly, every word careful, deliberate. “You’re the reason I’m still here. The reason I’m alive. If you think a little sting could undo all that…” you exhaled shakily, “…then you don’t know how strong you really are for me.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you—thick, fragile, heavy. Jungkook’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his lashes fluttering.

“YN…” he breathed, almost broken. His forehead leaned into your palm like he needed your touch to breathe.

And for the first time, you didn’t resist the warmth in your chest. Didn’t pull back or bury it under anger and pain. Slowly, almost nervously, you shifted closer into him. His arms hesitated—still trembling—until you whispered, “Hold me.”

That was all it took.

He pulled you back into his embrace, but this time his movements were cautious, reverent, like you were porcelain. His head buried into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and shaky against your skin. You felt the rapid thump of his heart against your chest, every beat screaming his fear of losing you.

And you… you let yourself lean in. For the first time willingly.

The silence wasn’t empty anymore—it was full. Full of his unspoken promises, and your unspoken forgiveness.

You walked into the dining room beside Jungkook, still feeling the faint warmth of his touch lingering on your skin. Everyone was already there—Yoongi, Jimin, Taehyung, Sera, Maria, even Mr. and Mrs. Jeon. The table was set, the aroma of food filling the air, but their eyes weren’t on the food.

They were on you.

As soon as you both stepped in, the silence broke into quiet giggles. Jimin tried to hide his grin behind his hand, but failed. Sera’s eyes sparkled mischievously, Maria nudged Yoongi who just smirked knowingly, and Mrs. Jeon covered her mouth to stifle her laughter.

Jungkook frowned, his brows knitting as he scanned each one of them. “What?” His deep voice carried that usual sharp edge, but the pink dusting his ears gave him away.

That only made them laugh harder.

You blinked, confused, glancing between them and Jungkook. “Why are you all laughing?” you asked cautiously.

Jimin leaned forward, his grin wide. “You two. Look at you both.”

Sera chimed in, resting her chin on her palm. “Couple goals much? Walking in like that, fresh from… you know—”

“—from what?” Jungkook cut in immediately, eyes narrowing.

“From cuddling all night!” Maria blurted, clapping her hands together like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Your eyes widened, heat rushing to your cheeks. Jungkook’s jaw clenched, his gaze snapping to Sera who quickly raised her hands. “Don’t look at me! I didn’t say anything.”

But her grin betrayed her—she definitely did.

Yoongi finally spoke, voice calm but laced with amusement. “You should’ve seen your faces walking in. Like newlyweds who just discovered they can’t breathe without each other.”

You choked, “What!”

The table erupted into laughter again. Even Mr. and Mrs. Jeon exchanged soft smiles, their eyes brimming with relief seeing you two together like this after everything.

Jungkook groaned under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “You all are insufferable,” he muttered, pulling out your chair for you like a silent distraction.

But when he leaned down slightly to tuck you in, his lips brushed close to your ear, his whisper low enough for only you to hear—

“well they're not wrong though they know… you’re mine.”

Your heart stuttered, heat blooming in your chest at the possessive softness in his tone.

And when you glanced up at him, his faint smirk told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

Sera, still giggling, pulled out her phone and held it up for both of you to see. “Look at this! You two are way too cute,” she said, swiping to the picture she had sneakily taken earlier when you were both asleep in each other’s arms.

You froze, cheeks burning a deep shade of crimson, eyes darting to Jungkook. He, on the other hand, leaned forward, taking the phone from her with a smirk. His gaze lingered on the screen, and you felt your stomach flip.

He didn’t just glance—he studied it. The way your head rested on his chest, your hand softly brushing his face, the peaceful expression you had in your sleep—it made his heart ache in a way he hadn’t expected. Slowly, he sent the picture to himself, as if he couldn’t let go of the memory.

Then his eyes shifted from the screen to himself in the reflection of the window. He tilted his head, studying the peaceful look on his own face, the slight softness in his usually cold features.

“You know,” he murmured, almost to himself, “I look… peaceful with you. Like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

You felt your heart squeeze at his words, warmth spreading through your chest despite your lingering shyness. For the first time in a long while, you felt calm—safe—and, more than anything, entirely his.

Sera couldn’t hold back her grin, nudging you both. “See? Told you—you’re perfect together.”

Jungkook just glanced at you, the corner of his lips twitching into a faint, fond smile, and you knew—he truly meant it.

The breakfast table was alive with chatter—laughter bouncing off the walls as Sera teased Jungkook about how adorable he looked in the picture, Maria joined in, making little jokes about your flushed cheeks, and even Mr. Jeon chuckled softly at the playful banter. Jimin poured coffee for everyone, joking about how Jungkook finally looked like a “normal husband,” which made you roll your eyes while secretly smiling.

Even Jungkook, who usually stayed stone-faced in public, allowed himself a small smirk, catching your eyes for a fleeting moment before turning his attention back to the table. The warmth and comfort of the family made you feel lighter than you had in days.

But then, the atmosphere shifted. Yoongi, his usual sharp and composed self, leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. His gaze was steady, piercing, and suddenly all the laughter died down. “YN,” he said slowly, “what are we going to do about Mrs. Kim?”

The question hit you like a cold wave. Your hand froze mid-movement, your fork trembling slightly. You blinked, eyes wide, the room seeming to shrink around you. The casual morning suddenly felt heavy, suffocating.

Jungkook stiffened beside you, his hand inching subtly closer, fingers brushing against yours in a silent offer of strength. His jaw tightened, dark eyes locked on Yoongi as though daring anyone to speak further until he had a say.

You stayed quiet, your mind racing, heart thudding painfully in your chest. The weight of the question wasn’t just about Mrs. Kim—it was about justice, revenge, and facing the past you had finally remembered. The room, once full of warmth and teasing, now held an electric tension as everyone waited for your answer.

The room was heavy with silence after Yoongi’s question, all eyes on you. Your lips trembled before you found the courage to speak.

“I…” you hesitated, your voice soft but carrying enough weight to make every pair of eyes sharpen. “I want to meet her first.”

The words cracked through the still air like lightning.

“No.” Jungkook’s response came instantly, sharp and firm, leaving no space for negotiation. His hand gripped yours tightly under the table, his eyes burning into you. “Absolutely not. You’re not going near that monster again.”

You inhaled shakily, fighting the storm inside you, and met his gaze with all the strength you could muster. “I’ll go with you, Jungkook. Nothing will happen. But I need to hear it from her face, one last time. I need to look into her eyes when I ask why.”

His chest rose and fell, jaw tightening as though he was holding back a snarl. “YN—”

Yoongi interrupted calmly, though his eyes flickered with respect at your determination. “She’s right, Jungkook. This might be the only way to close the chapter completely. And if she’s asking for it, we can make sure it’s safe.”

Jungkook glared at Yoongi but said nothing, torn between rage and the desperation to protect you.

“I’ll come too,” Taehyung spoke suddenly, his voice low but unwavering. Everyone turned to him, but his eyes weren’t on them—they were fixed on you. “She’s my mother… but she stopped being that a long time ago. If you face her, I’ll be there too.”

No one argued this time. Even Jungkook, though visibly fuming, said nothing more. His silence wasn’t surrender—it was the sound of a man who was preparing for war while letting you fight your battle.

The tension never left the air even after breakfast. The laughter, the teasing, the warmth of family—it all evaporated the moment Mrs. Kim’s name came up.

Yoongi stood, slipping his coat on with that quiet, calculating authority of his. “Let’s move then. She’s not rotting in any normal cell—she’s exactly where I want her.”

You rose slowly, Jungkook instantly mirroring you, his hand never leaving yours as though you might vanish if he let go. His jaw was clenched so tight you swore it could crack.

Taehyung grabbed his jacket too, his face unreadable but his eyes carrying a storm you’d never seen before. He didn’t say a word—he didn’t need to. His presence alone said everything.

The four of you left together, the others staying behind with heavy gazes following you. Maria’s whispered “Be careful” still lingered in your ears as Yoongi drove you in silence, the weight of everything pressing down on the car.

Finally, you reached it—Yoongi’s secret spot. It wasn’t some rundown hideout; it was a high-security underground facility, guarded by his most loyal men. The air smelled faintly of steel and antiseptic, the buzzing lights above making everything feel colder.

Yoongi’s voice cut through the silence. “She’s locked down here. Triple security, cameras on every corner. No one gets in or out without me knowing.”

Your heartbeat thundered as the heavy steel door opened, revealing a narrow corridor that led to a room at the end. Inside, through a small window, you caught your first glimpse of Mrs. Kim—restrained, sitting on a chair, her arm bandaged where she had been shot. Even with her pale skin and weakened state, her eyes still glimmered with venom.

Jungkook’s grip tightened painfully on your hand. His whisper was almost feral. “YN… we don’t have to do this. One word, and I’ll walk you out of here. You’ll never see her face again.”

But Taehyung stepped forward, his voice sharp but steady. “No. She needs to face her. And I need to hear it too.”

Yoongi looked at you, giving you the choice. “It’s your call. You want to walk in there, you walk in. But just know—we’ll be right behind you. And if she tries one thing, one breath out of line, I’ll end it before she blinks.”

Your heart raced. The steel door leading to Mrs. Kim waited—one step, and you’d be face to face with the woman who destroyed your life.

The door clanged shut behind you, and for a moment the only sound in the cold, steel room was the hum of the overhead light.

Mrs. Kim sat restrained to a chair, wrists tied to the armrests with steel cuffs, a thick bandage covering the wound on her shoulder. Yet even like this, weakened and trapped, her eyes burned with that same venom you remembered from your childhood nightmares.

When her gaze landed on you, her lips curled into a cruel smirk.

“Well, well… the little orphan finally grows a spine,” she hissed, her voice dripping with mockery. “Come to see me suffer, hm? Or maybe to beg me for answers?”

Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to step closer. “I didn’t come here to beg. I came here to hear it from your own mouth—why? Why did you do all this to me? To my mother?”

Her laugh was sharp, cutting through the air. She leaned forward against her restraints, eyes gleaming with hate.

“Why? Because I never liked you. Not for a single second. Every time I looked at your pathetic little face, I saw her. That woman. That thief. She stole everything from me—your father, my life, my place. And then you… you were her shadow, haunting me every day. Do you know what it’s like to look at the thing that destroyed you every single morning?!”

Your chest squeezed painfully, anger and grief clawing at your insides. She didn’t even hesitate—she spat the venom like it had been simmering for years.

“You think you survived because you’re strong?” she sneered. “No. You survived because I allowed it. I should have finished you the night your mother begged me for your life. I should have ended you when you were nothing but a crying, useless child!”

Your hands balled into fists, tears burning your eyes. She writhed in her chair, testing the cuffs, her voice rising into a scream.

“You disgust me, YN! Just like your whore of a mother—weak, desperate, pathetic!”

That last word cracked something in you, your body trembling. But before you could speak, the door slammed open.

“ENOUGH!”

Taehyung’s voice thundered through the room, raw and sharp. He stormed inside, his face twisted in rage, eyes red from unshed tears. His fists shook at his sides as he glared at the woman who gave him life.

“How dare you?!” he shouted, his voice breaking. “She was more of a mother than you ever were! And you—” his voice cracked again, “you killed the only good woman who loved me like her own!”

Mrs. Kim’s smirk faltered for the first time as Taehyung stepped closer, trembling with anger.

“You’re a monster,” he spat, his voice shaking. “And you’re not my mother anymore. You’re nothing to me.”

The room fell heavy with silence, your breath uneven, Mrs. Kim glaring, Taehyung trembling with rage. Behind the steel door, you knew Jungkook and Yoongi were just waiting to barge in.

You straightened, wiping your tears with the back of your hand, and something inside you shifted. Enough. Enough of crying, enough of letting her spit poison and rip open your wounds.

Your lips curled into a cold smirk.

“You know what, Mrs. Kim? You’re right.”

Her eyes flickered, confused by your sudden tone.

“I am my mother’s shadow,” you said, stepping closer, your voice steady and sharp. “But unlike you, she was a woman worth remembering. She had strength, dignity, and love—things you’ll never know because all you are is a desperate, bitter maid who couldn’t keep a man.”

Her face twisted in rage, but you didn’t stop.

“You keep saying I disgust you? Good. Because every time you see me, you’re reminded that my mother won. She won his love, she won respect, she won a family. And you? You only got his pity. You trapped him, chained him, destroyed him until he became as pathetic as you.”

Mrs. Kim yanked against her restraints, her eyes blazing. “Shut your filthy mouth—”

“Or what?” you cut her off, your laugh dark. “You’ll kill me like you killed her? Go ahead and try, oh wait—” you leaned down so your eyes met hers, “—you can’t even move without these cuffs. Look at you, sitting here like the rotting trash you are.”

Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding, but you pressed harder.

“You hate me because I remind you of her? Good. Then choke on it. Choke every single day knowing that I survived everything you threw at me. You failed. I’m still here, breathing, standing, and you—” you sneered, “—you’re just a murderer with nothing left. Not a wife. Not a mother. Not even human.”

Mrs. Kim’s chest heaved, her face contorted in fury, but you only tilted your head, voice dropping to a deadly whisper.

“You wanted me weak, broken, begging. Instead, you made me strong enough to bury you.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, her hateful eyes boring into you.

And then Taehyung let out “Damn, YN… you finally sound like her daughter.”

Mrs. Kim sneered, her lips curling in a wicked smile despite your venom.

“You think you’re strong now? You’re just a pathetic girl playing queen. Without Jeon Jungkook, without these men around you, you’d still be nothing—like your mother in the dirt.”

Something inside you snapped.

You leaned forward, eyes cold, voice razor-sharp.

“My mother may be in the dirt, but at least she’s not rotting alive like you. You breathe, but you’re already dead, Mrs. Kim. You killed love. You killed family. You killed yourself long before you killed her. That’s your true punishment—you’ll die hated, alone, forgotten.”

Her eyes widened—the words slicing deeper than any knife. She thrashed against the restraints, screaming curses, spitting like a cornered animal.

And just when you were about to step closer, to scream into her face everything you’d buried in your chest for years—

“YN!”

The door slammed open. Jungkook stormed in, his presence filling the room like a thunderclap. His eyes burned as they darted between your trembling fists and Mrs. Kim’s twisted face. He was across the room in seconds, gripping your shoulders, forcing you to look at him.

“That’s enough,” he growled, voice low but shaking. “Don’t give her more of you. She doesn’t deserve even your anger.”

You struggled, body vibrating with rage. “She killed my mom, Jungkook! She destroyed everything! I want her to feel it—”

“She already does.” He pulled you against his chest, holding you so tightly you couldn’t move. His lips brushed against your ear, whispering like a vow. “I won’t let her drag you down to her level. You’re not her. You’ll never be her. You’re mine—and I’ll protect you from her, even if it’s from yourself.”

Behind him, Mrs. Kim laughed bitterly through her fury. “Pathetic. Clinging to a man just like your mother did—”

But Jungkook snapped his head toward her, his glare sharp enough to cut steel. “One more word, and I’ll make sure your tongue is the first thing you lose.”

Silence.

You buried your face in his chest, shaking, fury and grief tangled until you didn’t know which was which. And for the first time, Mrs. Kim had nothing left to say.

You all stepped out of the dim room, the door shutting behind with a heavy clang. The air outside was colder, but it didn’t cool the fire burning in your chest. Yoongi leaned against the wall casually, his hands buried in his coat pockets, expression unreadable.

“Well,” he drawled, his dark eyes glinting as if he already knew your answer. “Now what? You want her gift-wrapped for the police… or do you want me to handle her?”

That me wasn’t casual. Everyone in the room knew what “me” meant. It meant no return. It meant Mrs. Kim’s screams would be swallowed by shadows and never heard again.

You stood there, silent for a moment, your cold gaze staring straight into Yoongi’s. Then, with a sharp breath, you said,

“Don’t give her to the police.”

Everyone stiffened, even Taehyung, his brows furrowing. Jungkook’s grip on your hand tightened, as if bracing himself.

You didn’t blink, your voice colder than ice.

“They don’t do anything. They just take money, turn their backs, and rewrite the story. The police told me my mother’s death was an accident—when in reality, she was murdered by that woman in there. I stopped believing in them the day they killed her truth with their lies.”

Your eyes shifted to Yoongi, sharp, decisive.

“You can take charge. Do whatever you want with her.”

Yoongi smirked faintly, though there was no joy in it—only respect, maybe even a flicker of pride.

“As you wish,” he said simply, already pulling out his phone.

Taehyung stiffened, torn, guilt flickering across his face. “YN…” his voice broke, softer, almost pleading. But you didn’t look at him.

Jungkook’s thumb brushed your knuckles, grounding you, though his jaw was locked, his stare burning into Yoongi’s like he was daring him to push too far.

For the first time, the power wasn’t in Mrs. Kim’s hands. It was in yours.

Yoongi’s phone clicked shut after a short call. He exhaled slowly, his smirk curving sharp like a blade.

“Now the world will forget who Mrs. Kim ever was. She’ll disappear like she never existed,” he said, his tone smooth, final. No hesitation. No trace of doubt.

The weight of his words settled like smoke in the air, but instead of dread, you felt a strange ease wash over you. A calmness. Like a storm inside you had finally found its silence.

You walked ahead without glancing back at the door where Mrs. Kim was kept, your shoulders lighter, your heart no longer burning with rage. For the first time in years—you weren’t her victim anymore.

But behind you, Taehyung wasn’t walking so easily. His fists were tight at his sides, his jaw clenched. He didn’t speak, but his eyes… his eyes screamed a thousand things he could never say out loud.

No matter how much he had trained himself to be ruthless, to follow this dark path without flinching—at the end of the day, she was his mother. The woman who gave him life. And now, the same woman was nothing but a prisoner, her fate sealed in the cruelest way.

It hurt. God, it hurt.

He swallowed hard, forcing his expression blank as he followed you and Jungkook out, but deep down, guilt gnawed at him. Pain bit at his chest. And yet, he knew. He knew better than anyone—this was the result of her own doings.

His mother’s sins had written this ending long ago.

And now, he had no choice but to watch her disappear into nothingness.

That night, the mansion was too quiet. Everyone had retreated to their rooms, exhaustion written in every step, but Taehyung’s room was restless.

He sat on the edge of his bed, the papers Yoongi had given him earlier still clutched in his hands. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, his knuckles white as his grip tightened.

Images of his mother chained, broken, screaming flashed again and again.

Her venom, her curses.

Her laugh when she confessed to everything.

The gunshot.

The blood.

He bent forward, pressing his forehead to his palms.

“Why… why does it still hurt?” he whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking. He wanted to hate her completely—God, he should—but the ache inside his chest wouldn’t stop. Tears slipped silently down his face, staining the floor beneath him. For once, Kim Taehyung wasn’t the composed, sharp man he always pretended to be. He was just… a son who had lost his mother in the cruelest way possible.

The door creaked open. He stiffened, hurriedly wiping his tears, but when he saw you standing there, his walls broke instantly.

You crossed the room slowly, quietly, then sat beside him. Without a word, you pulled him into your arms. At first, he resisted, but the moment your warmth wrapped around him, he collapsed against you, clutching your shirt like it was his lifeline.

“You don’t have to hold it in, Tae,” you whispered, your fingers brushing through his hair gently. “I know what it feels like… I know what it’s like to love and hate the same person. To carry both pain and anger until it eats you alive.”

His body trembled, his tears soaking your shoulder as he choked, “Why does it still hurt when she deserves it? Why can’t I just hate her completely?”

“Because you’re human,” you murmured. “And because, no matter what she did, she was your mother. It’s not weakness to feel this way, Taehyung. It’s… it’s what makes you different from her.”

For the first time in years, Taehyung let someone comfort him without pushing them away.

Outside, in the hallway, Jungkook stood in the shadows, watching silently. He had asked you where you were going, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“He needs someone,” you had said simply. “As I needed you.”

You hadn’t noticed the way Jungkook’s jaw tightened, the way his chest burned with a mix of jealousy and fear. He trusted you—God, he did—but the sight of you holding Taehyung, whispering comfort into his brokenness, made his heart twist painfully.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t step in. But as he walked away, his fists clenched at his sides, he knew one thing for sure—

He never wanted to lose the place he had in your heart.

After hours of tears, Taehyung finally drifted off, his breathing soft and steady against the silence. You sat there a little longer, watching his face. Even in sleep, faint lines of sorrow lingered across his expression.

Your eyes softened. Slowly, you reached for the blanket, pulling it up to his shoulders, tucking him in like you were shielding him from the world. For a brief second, you brushed a strand of hair from his forehead before standing up.

Quietly, you left the room.

The hallway was dim, the air heavy with the kind of silence that only came at night. You opened your door, stepping inside, but before you could take another step—two strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind.

Your body froze instantly.

You didn’t need to turn. You knew this touch.

Jungkook.

He buried his face into the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. His embrace was desperate, almost trembling, like he had been waiting for you all night.

“I miss you…” he whispered, his voice low, husky from exhaustion but dripping with raw need.

Your chest tightened. This wasn’t the first time he hugged you—no, he always clung to you when you were broken, when you were trembling in fear, when you thought you wouldn’t survive. But this… this was different.

For the first time, he was holding you not because you needed him—

But because he needed you.

And feeling his warmth so close, his lips brushing your neck as he breathed you in—

God, your stomach fluttered with butterflies you didn’t want to admit.

His grip around your waist tightened, pulling you back against him as if he feared you’d slip away.

“Don’t… don’t go to him when I’m right here,” Jungkook murmured, the jealousy he had tried to bury all night slipping through his voice. “I can’t stand it.”

“I know he’s hurting… I know you understand him. But YN, every second you’re away, I feel like I’m losing you.”

You felt his chest trembling against your back. Jungkook—the man who never broke, who always stood like a wall between you and the world—was shaking.

Slowly, you turned in his arms. His head was lowered, his lashes heavy over eyes that were glistening, holding onto storms he’d never let anyone see.

“Jungkook…” you whispered, reaching up instinctively, your hand brushing against his cheek. His skin was warm, his jaw clenched like he was fighting himself.

He caught your wrist gently, pressing it against his face as though your touch was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“I’m scared,” he admitted in a voice so quiet it almost broke you. “I almost lost you, YN. I don’t think I can survive that again.”

Your heart ached. You cupped his face fully now, forcing him to meet your eyes.

“You won’t,” you said firmly, even though your own voice shook. “I’m here. I’m not leaving you, Jungkook.”

His lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, he simply pulled you closer, burying his face against your shoulder, holding on like the world outside didn’t matter—as if right here, in this fragile moment, you were both the only thing keeping each other alive.

And for the first time in a long time… the silence felt safe.

You and Jungkook stayed like that for a long time, holding onto each other like you’d both been drowning and finally broke the surface.

For the first time in what felt like forever, your chest didn’t feel heavy. No more fragments of memory stabbing your mind. No more choking confusion. No more running in circles around pain and lies.

Just… relief.

You leaned your forehead against his, both of you breathing in sync, shaky but steadying with each inhale.

“It’s over,” you whispered, your voice carrying the weight of every sleepless night, every tear you thought you’d never stop shedding.

Jungkook closed his eyes, exhaling as though he’d been waiting his whole life to hear those words. “Finally,” he murmured back, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “No more nightmares. No more monsters.”

You nodded, tears burning but softer this time—not the kind that tore you apart, but the kind that washed the wounds clean.

His arms tightened around you, and you let your body relax against him. The world outside didn’t matter. Mrs. Kim was gone from your life, the truth was no longer a shadow, and for the first time in years—you were free.

Both of you took a deep breath together, like two broken souls breathing life back into each other.

For once, the silence was not heavy. It was peace.

The quiet stretched between you, soft and warm, his arms still around you. For once, it wasn’t suffocating—it was comforting. You tilted your head slightly, your voice low but steady.

“Jungkook…”

He hummed, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your waist, waiting.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your eyes glassy. “For staying. For holding me when I was falling apart. For not letting go even when I was too broken to hold myself together.”

His body stilled, your words sinking into him like knives and salve at the same time. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes shimmering.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” he said, voice rough. “It wasn’t… something I chose because I had to. I couldn’t have left you even if I wanted to. Every night you cried—I felt like I was the one breaking. I’d rather bleed with you than see you bleed alone.”

Your chest tightened, tears threatening to spill. “Still… I know I wasn’t easy to be with. I pushed you, I hated you, I fought you… but you stayed. No one ever stayed, Jungkook. Only you.”

His jaw clenched, his throat bobbing. He reached up, brushing away a tear that slipped down your cheek. “Because you’re mine,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Even when you hated me, even when I told myself I hated you… you were always mine. I wasn’t going to let you break alone. Not then. Not ever.”

The air between you grew heavy with truth—raw, trembling, undeniable.

You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to see your sincerity. “Then don’t ever let me go. Not when I fall, not when I push, not when I doubt. Just… stay. That’s all I’ll ever ask.”

Jungkook’s eyes burned as he leaned into your touch, nodding once, firm and unshakable. “I’ll stay. Always. Even if the world turns against us, I’ll be here. With you. For you.”

And when he kissed your forehead, it wasn’t desperation this time—it was a vow.

The room was quiet, only the faint hum of night seeping through the window. Jungkook didn’t let go of you, even as you both moved toward the bed. He laid down first, pulling you with him, tucking you under his arm like he’d been waiting years just to hold you without fear.

For a long while, you just lay there in silence, listening to his heartbeat. Slow, steady, strong—like an anchor. You traced invisible patterns on his chest, and he let you, his hand resting protectively on your waist.

“Do you know how many times I thought I’d lose you?” he whispered suddenly, his voice breaking the stillness. His words weren’t sharp this time—only fragile, cracked. “Every time you screamed in your sleep, every time your body went limp in my arms… I thought, ‘this is it. She’s slipping away.’”

Your chest tightened, guilt and tenderness tangling together. “But I didn’t,” you whispered back, tilting your head up to look at him. “Because you held me here. You kept me.”

He let out a shaky laugh, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I didn’t keep you. You fought. You’re stronger than anyone I know. I just… I just refused to let go, even when you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “Not anymore. I don’t think I ever truly did. I just… hated how much I felt when you were around. It scared me, Jungkook. You scared me.”

His eyes softened, the corner of his lips tugging in a bittersweet smile. “Good. Because you terrified me too.”

That made you both laugh quietly, and the tension in the air finally loosened.

Then came the softer confessions—your dreams, his fears.

“I don’t know what life looks like without pain,” you murmured, your fingers curling into his shirt. “But I want to find out. With you.”

Jungkook’s hand slid to the back of your head, holding you close. “Then we’ll build it. Day by day. No more lies, no more nightmares. Just us.”

“Just us,” you echoed, closing your eyes.

The conversation stretched deep into the night. You talked about little things—the foods you craved, the places you wanted to visit, the silly arguments you’d probably still have. He admitted his fear of failing you, and you admitted your fear of losing him. Somewhere between the honesty and the warmth of his arms, the both of you began to breathe easier.

And when sleep finally claimed you, tangled together beneath the blanket, it wasn’t the restless, haunted kind you were used to. It was peaceful. Healing. Like you were finally safe.

For the first time in forever, Jungkook slept deeply too, his hand never leaving yours.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold. You stirred awake first, blinking against the light, only to realize where you were.

Jungkook’s arm was wrapped securely around your waist, his face buried against the curve of your neck. His breathing was slow, steady—completely at peace.

You froze for a second. You weren’t supposed to sleep here. Not like this. Not in his room. The plan had been to rest in your own space after everything, but somewhere in the middle of your late-night conversation, exhaustion and the pull of his warmth had won. And now, here you were—his body tangled with yours, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The thought of pulling away crossed your mind, but then his hold tightened unconsciously, as if even in sleep he knew you were trying to leave. His brows knitted, a soft frown forming, and he mumbled something against your skin.

Your chest softened instantly. You knew this wasn’t just about desire—it was about survival. About the countless nights he stayed awake watching you shake, about how your body only stilled in his arms, and how he only rested once he felt your heartbeat against his.

Somewhere along the way, his presence had become the only lullaby your mind trusted. And without meaning to, you’d become his too.

You let out a quiet sigh, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. We weren’t supposed to get used to this, you thought. But maybe we already have.

Leaning your head back against the pillow, you let him hold you a little longer. Because as dangerous as the habit was… it was the only place you finally felt safe.

You felt his hold loosen slightly as his lashes fluttered open. Sleep still clung to his eyes, but the way he looked at you—soft, intent, almost reverent—made your chest tighten.

For a long moment, he didn’t speak. He just drank you in, like he wasn’t sure if you were real or another cruel dream. Then, in a voice rough with sleep, he murmured,

“You’re the only thing keeping me alive.”

Your breath caught. The words weren’t grand, but they were heavy—aching with truth. And that was exactly why you asked, voice trembling though you tried to keep it steady:

“Jungkook… what are we, exactly? What is our relationship?”

The question fell into the quiet morning like a stone into still water. His body stiffened instantly, the air around him shifting. His hand that had been resting on your waist stilled, his gaze flickering away for the first time since he’d woken.

He sat up a little, running a hand through his messy hair, as if buying himself time. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked almost… scared.

“Yn…” he started, his voice low, hesitant. “Don’t ask me that right now.”

You frowned, pushing yourself up on your elbows to face him properly. “Why not? I think I deserve to know what all of this means to you.”

He looked at you then, eyes dark, torn between honesty and fear. His chest rose and fell unevenly, and the silence between you stretched unbearably long.

Jungkook’s words hung in the air, flat and heavy.

“Yn… we’re husband and wife. Not officially, but we are. I know this situation is complicated but… let’s just move forward with what we have.”

You froze, the sting of his words cutting deep. Husband and wife—yet he said it like an arrangement, like a deal sealed by circumstances instead of hearts. Not love. Not choice. Just… obligation.

Your chest tightened painfully, twisting until you couldn’t breathe. You blinked rapidly, forcing down the wetness that threatened to gather in your eyes. Without another word, you looked down, then slowly slid off the bed.

Jungkook’s breath caught. His hand twitched, as if it wanted to reach out—grab your wrist, stop you, anything—but it froze midair. His throat worked, but no sound came.

You didn’t look back. You walked out of his room, each step echoing in the silence, your heart breaking with the weight of everything unspoken.

Left alone, Jungkook sat on the edge of the bed, head bowed, fists clenching so hard his knuckles turned white. His jaw trembled, his lips parted like he was about to call your name, but the word never came out.

All he could do was watch the door you disappeared behind, his own chest aching with the truth he couldn’t bring himself to say.

The moment the door closed behind you, your legs felt weak. You leaned against the wall of the hallway, pressing your palm to your chest where the ache burned like fire.

Husband and wife… but not love.

Your eyes shut, tears slipping free despite your effort to hold them back. You bit your lip hard, tasting iron. Why did it hurt so much? Maybe because deep down you already knew… you wanted him to say it. You wanted him to claim it. That all those nights he held you when you were breaking, all those times he shielded you, weren’t just because of some forced marriage—because he loved you.

But he didn’t.

Or maybe… he couldn’t admit it.

You inhaled shakily, wiping your tears before anyone could see, and whispered to yourself, “I shouldn’t have asked.” Then you pushed yourself away from the wall and walked toward bathroom, each step heavier than the last.

Inside his room, Jungkook sat frozen, staring at the spot where you had been standing just moments ago.

He dragged his hands through his hair roughly, his chest rising and falling like he couldn’t breathe.

“Fucking idiot,” he whispered to himself, voice breaking. “Why didn’t you just say it?”

His fists slammed into the mattress, his jaw tightening. He saw it—the way your eyes dropped, the way your shoulders trembled before you left. He hurt you. The one person he swore to protect, the one he couldn’t bear to see in pain—he was the reason behind your tears tonight.

Images flashed in his mind: you screaming in nightmares, you bleeding in his arms at the hospital, you trembling but still choosing to fight. And every time, he’d been there, unable to let go.

“Yn…” his voice cracked, your name breaking him.

He buried his face in his palms, his heart twisting with a truth he couldn’t cage anymore. I love you. God, he loved you so much it terrified him. But the fear—the fear of losing you, of saying it out loud and watching you slip away—kept his mouth shut when you needed to hear it most.

Now you were gone from his room. And all he could do was sit there, suffocating in silence, hating himself for letting you walk away.

The atmosphere was light, laughter filling the dining room as always—but not for you. You sat there quietly, eyes on your plate, not lifting your gaze once. Jungkook tried. He asked if you wanted more toast, if the soup was too hot, if you slept well. Every question was met with silence or a polite nod, nothing more.

It killed him.

Everyone noticed—the tension hanging between you both was thick enough to choke on. But no one spoke up. Jimin’s fork clinked against his plate, Yoongi leaned back in his chair watching you both like a hawk, Maria and Jin exchanged uneasy glances. Still, no one dared break the silence.

When breakfast ended, you excused yourself without even a glance at Jungkook. His jaw flexed, his chest heavy with the sting of your distance.

Jungkook pov

He was walking back toward his room, hands shoved in his pockets, lost in thought. The fight replayed in his head, the way you ignored him now—each moment making his anger at himself grow sharper.

But then he froze.

His eyes landed on Sera’s door, slightly ajar. He wasn’t the type to snoop, but something about the soft sound inside made his steps falter.

He glanced in.

And his blood turned to fire.

Taehyung’s head rested on Sera’s lap, his eyes closed as though he’d finally found peace. Sera sat there with her gentle smile, her fingers gliding through his hair, her other hand resting on his shoulder as if she’d been born to comfort him. Taehyung shifted closer, face nuzzling into her stomach like a child seeking warmth.

Jungkook’s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened. His chest heaved as a thousand thoughts collided—anger, jealousy, protectiveness, and something darker he couldn’t name.

What the hell?

He slammed his palm against the wall beside him before he could stop himself, the sound echoing. His eyes burned, his jaw sharp enough to cut steel.

Taehyung didn’t stir, still tucked into her. But Sera’s gaze flicked up, meeting Jungkook’s through the gap in the door. Her eyes widened, startled at first, then softened knowingly.

Jungkook’s glare stayed locked on her, his silent message clear: What the hell are you doing?

For a moment, the house felt like it was holding its breath.

The sound of Jungkook’s palm hitting the wall wasn’t enough to bleed off the fury running through his veins. His blood boiled hotter with every second he watched Taehyung curled against Sera like that, her fingers in his hair.

That was it.

He shoved the door wide open with a violent push— BANG—the wood slamming against the wall.

Both of them jerked. Sera’s eyes went wide, Taehyung’s head snapped up in confusion, blinking as if pulled out of a dream.

But Jungkook didn’t give him a chance to breathe. In two long strides, he grabbed Taehyung by the collar and yanked him clean off the floor, dragging him up only to slam him down against the rug with a thud.

“How—fucking—DARE you?” Jungkook roared, his voice raw, veins straining against his neck. His fist twisted Taehyung’s collar tighter, lifting him halfway off the ground again before shoving him back down.

Taehyung coughed, struggling to catch his breath, but his own hands rose, grabbing Jungkook’s wrists to push him away. “Jungkook—what the hell—”

“Don’t you fucking say my name!” Jungkook snapped, face inches from his. His eyes were blazing, darker than Taehyung had ever seen. “How dare you even touch her?!”

Sera scrambled to her feet, panic flashing across her face. “oppa—wait—it’s not—”

“Shut the fuck up, Sera!” Jungkook barked without even sparing her a glance, his focus locked on Taehyung. His chest was heaving, every word breaking like thunder. “You think you can crawl into my house, onto my sister’s lap, like you belong here?!”

He shook Taehyung hard, his fury vibrating through the room.

Taehyung’s jaw clenched, eyes flashing with his own stubborn fire despite being pinned. “It’s not what you think!” he spat back, coughing against the pressure on his collar. “Don’t twist it—”

“Don’t twist it?” Jungkook cut him off, slamming his fist against the floor just beside Taehyung’s head, the impact rattling the furniture. “I should kill you right here for even daring—”

“Jungkook, stop!” Sera cried, tugging at his arm, tears brimming.

But Jungkook didn’t stop. His entire body was trembling with a mix of rage, protectiveness, and something dangerously close to losing control.

Taehyung shoved at Jungkook’s chest, finally snapping, his voice tearing out of his throat.

“FINE!” he shouted, eyes burning. “Fine, let’s not twist it—yeah, I love her!”

The words crashed into the air like glass shattering.

“I love your sister!” he roared, breath ragged, veins straining at his neck. “You hear me, Jungkook? I love her!”

The entire room froze.

Sera gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

You—just stepping into the doorway because of the shouting—froze mid-step, eyes wide, the confession slamming into your chest like a bullet.

For one long, suffocating moment, silence blanketed everything. No one dared to move.

Then Jungkook’s fury snapped like a whip.

“You—what?” he growled, his voice low, dangerous, his face twisting into pure rage. Before Taehyung could even catch another breath, Jungkook yanked him back up by the collar with inhuman strength, his fist cocking back.

“Say that again and I’ll fucking kill you—”

“oppa stop!” Sera cried, lunging forward, trying to wedge herself between them, but Jungkook shoved her aside with his arm, not hard, but enough to keep her away. His fist trembled in the air, an inch from Taehyung’s face.

You stood frozen in the doorway, your body trembling. Watching. Processing.

Jungkook’s fist was shaking, his eyes wild, every muscle screaming for him to land that punch and erase Taehyung from breathing.

But Taehyung—chest heaving, face flushed—didn’t back down. Didn’t flinch. He lifted his chin, glaring straight into Jungkook’s eyes, his voice sharp and steady.

“I said I love her. And I won’t take it back.”

Jungkook’s grip on Taehyung’s collar tightened until his knuckles turned white, fury flooding his face. His voice dropped into a lethal growl.

“I won’t allow it. You’re not worthy of my sister.”

The words cut through the air like a blade.

He yanked Taehyung forward, practically spitting in his face.

“I’m warning you, Taehyung. Leave her. Leave this house. Leave this place—before I kill you.”

Sera gasped, her tears streaming, and suddenly she threw herself between them, shoving against Jungkook’s chest with all her strength.

“STOP, oppa!” she cried, voice breaking, eyes red and shining. “You don’t get to decide that for me!”

Jungkook’s breath hitched, his body freezing for half a second.

Sera’s shoulders shook as she screamed the words she’d been holding back for weeks:

“I love him too!”

The room dropped into dead silence.

Jungkook’s hands slowly uncurled from Taehyung’s collar. His face went blank for a heartbeat, as if he hadn’t heard her right—like his brain refused to process what she just said.

Then his eyes snapped to her, wide, raw, burning with disbelief.

“Sera…” his voice cracked, low and shaking. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

His voice rose, booming, almost shaking the walls.

“How—how can you say that?! How can you love him? Do you even know anything about him? What kind of man he is?!”

Taehyung flinched but stood his ground, his jaw tightening.

Sera sobbed harder, clinging to Taehyung’s arm now, as if daring Jungkook to tear them apart.

“I don’t care about anything! I don’t care what he’s done! I love him, oppa, and nothing you say will change that!”

Her words echoed like a gunshot, making Jungkook’s chest heave with a storm of rage and heartbreak.

His hands curled into fists again, his whole body trembling as he glared between his baby sister and the man he despised most in this world—both standing united against him.

Sera wiped her tears with the back of her hand, but her voice shook with anger now, not fear.

“Stop it, oppa! Stop trying to control my life!”

Jungkook froze, stunned that his sweet little sister was spitting venom at him.

Sera’s chest rose and fell sharply as she glared up at him, her hands fisted at her sides.

“You’ve been doing this since forever—deciding who I meet, who I talk to, what I do, where I go! I let it go because you’re my brother… but you don’t own me, Jungkook!”

Her words sliced through him.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with both rage and pain.

“I’m trying to protect you, Sera!”

But Sera snapped back, louder:

“No—you’re trying to control me! You don’t even ask what I want. You don’t even care what I feel. You just decide and expect me to obey!”

She turned, gripping Taehyung’s hand tightly, her voice trembling but firm.

“But this time… this time, I won’t. I love him, oppa. And if you can’t accept that… then maybe you don’t love me the way you say you do.”

Her last words hung in the air like a slap.

Jungkook’s eyes widened, his throat bobbing as he struggled to breathe. He looked at her as if the ground had been ripped from under him—his own sister choosing Taehyung over him.

For the first time, Jeon Jungkook, the man who bent the world to his will, looked… powerless.

Jungkook’s nostrils flared, his fist trembling at his side as Sera’s words replayed in his ears.

“If you can’t accept that… then maybe you don’t love me the way you say you do.”

The betrayal burned deeper than any wound. His baby sister. Choosing Taehyung.

His gaze snapped back to Taehyung, who stood there silently, his hand still gripping Sera’s. That was enough to make Jungkook snap.

With a feral growl, Jungkook lunged forward, his fist cocked back.

“I’ll fucking kill you!”

“JUNGKOOK!” Sera screamed, stepping in front, but Taehyung yanked her behind him, ready to take the hit.

But before Jungkook’s punch could connect, another force slammed against his chest.

It was you.

Your hands pressed firmly against his torso, pushing him back with all your strength, your voice sharp and trembling with desperation:

“STOP IT, JUNGKOOK!”

His wild eyes locked onto yours, and for a second, he looked more like a raging beast than the man you knew. His breathing was ragged, his muscles tight, fists trembling to be unleashed.

You didn’t flinch—you couldn’t.

“For God sake stop it.”

Your words cut through the haze, but he still shook with fury. His eyes darted between Taehyung and Sera, who stood clutching each other, and something dark twisted in his chest.

You didn’t give him the chance to speak. Grabbing his wrist, you yanked him out of the room. He resisted for a moment, glaring back at Taehyung like he was ready to break free and finish what he started. But then he saw your face—serious, desperate, begging—and he let you drag him away.

The door slammed shut behind you both as you pulled him into his own room.

Inside, Jungkook ripped his hand from your grip, punching the wall so hard the frame rattled.

“I won’t let him take her from me!” he roared, his voice breaking with rage and something else—something more vulnerable.

To be continued...