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I’ve been sitting with my feelings for a while because I don’t want to write this from a place of anger. I think I need to write it from a place of honesty, because I love and respect you both, and that is exactly why this has hurt me so much.
I have experienced violence in a relationship myself. I know what it feels like when someone who is supposed to love you becomes the person you are afraid of. I know that pain doesn’t disappear simply because the bruises do. Some memories stay quietly inside you, and sometimes something completely unexpected brings them back to the surface. That is why this felt so personal to me.
I understand that people can love music without agreeing with everything an artist has done. I understand separating art from the artist. I don’t believe that going to this concert makes you bad people. I don’t believe it erases everything you’ve done, everything you’ve stood for, or every moment when your music and your words helped people like me through difficult times. But I do believe that you can love someone and still be disappointed by something they do. And I am disappointed.
Because I have always believed that you understood the importance of using your voices thoughtfully. You’ve spoken about empathy, vulnerability, respect, and the responsibility that comes with having people listen to you. So seeing you support someone whose history includes violence against women made me question something I never wanted to question.
There are women reading this who have survived things they rarely talk about. Women who have been afraid in their own homes. Women who have spent years rebuilding themselves after someone else’s violence. For someone like that, seeing a person with that history continue to be celebrated can be incredibly painful. And perhaps what hurts most is knowing that you are people I admire.
I don’t want this moment to become a reason for me to stop loving you. I don’t want to erase years of memories, music, comfort, laughter, and gratitude because of one decision. But I also don’t want to silence my discomfort just because I love you.
I hope you understand that criticism isn’t always hatred. Sometimes criticism comes from caring enough to say, This hurt me.
I still love you both. I still respect the artists and people you’ve shown yourselves to be over the years. But right now, I am disappointed, and I think I’m allowed to be.
I hope you continue to listen, to reflect, and to remember that behind the millions of people who support you are individuals carrying stories you may never know. Some of us have survived things we never thought we’d survive. And sometimes, when someone we admire makes a choice that touches that old wound, it hurts more than we can explain.
I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want to stop believing in you. I just hope that my disappointment can exist alongside my love for you.
Hi, lovelies! I’m reading all your asks, and wow, you guys have SO many questions! 😂 I’m having so much fun reading them all. Some of them are making me think twice about whether I should answer because I might accidentally spoil the upcoming chapters!
Charm would it be crazy to ask for a QnA Q&A for Yn, Jungkook and Mina because I genuinely want to see what questions people actually ask them, especially Mina?
I actually LOVE that idea! Would you want the Q&A while the story is still ongoing, or after it’s finished? I feel like the questions for Mina would be WILD. 😂
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will we ever have JK yearning for our Y/N?😭 Poor girl has suffered ALOT, literally all of her life ever since she was 16. She doesn’t deserve it AT ANY COST
Just keep reading and let’s see what happens with JK. 😂
if Jungkook eventually talks to Mina’s psychiatrist and finds out what she had been going to therapy for I feel like that could completely change everyone’s perspective.
At the same time I really hope the story doesn’t turn her mental health into an excuse for everything she did. It could explain why she behaved the way she did but it shouldn’t erase the fact that she made conscious choices that hurt the people who loved and trusted her. If she was struggling with abandonment issues, insecurity, jealousy, fear, or anything else, I can understand that those things may have influenced her behavior. But she was still making conscious choices.
She hid YN’s letter. She deliberately made Jungkook believe that Y/N didn’t love him. She interfered with something that could have completely changed both of their lives. She maintained those lies for years, had an affair behind her husband’s back, and allowed him to believe that Hana was his biological daughter when she knew she wasn’t.
she knew exactly what she was doing in certain situations but was still unable or unwilling to stop herself. Because this is a person who knew what she was doing. Even if she was in that state she was still aware enough to realize I’m doing all these things, and I know they’re wrong, but I can’t seem to stop myself. And that could be exactly why she sought therapy in the first place because she realized that things had gotten out of control and that she needed professional help.
If she was seeking therapy because of her affair, her behavior toward or whatever else she had been doing, then I do believe Jin might’ve been aware of at least some of it
Genre: Romance • Angst • Slow Burn • Mutual Pining • Friends to Lovers • Right Person, Wrong Time • Unrequited Love • Found Family • Grief • Heartbreak • Emotional Healing • Jealousy • Comfort • Slice of Life • Family Drama • Single Father • Longing • Betrayal • Healing Romance • Smut
Sypnosis: For fifteen years, Y/N loved the same person in silence. She watched him grow up beside her, watched him fall in love, and watched him build a life that never included her. But when tragedy changes everything, old feelings, buried grief, and painful truths begin to surface, forcing her to confront the love she thought she had long outgrown. Filled with heartbreak, longing, betrayal, and healing, this is the story of two people who meet at the wrong time, lose themselves along the way, and discover that some loves survive even after everything else falls apart.
The weekend rain had washed the city clean, leaving behind crisp blue skies and warm air that drifted through open office windows. Morning commuters hurried toward train stations carrying coffee cups and briefcases. Cafés filled before eight. Children laughed outside daycare gates. Somewhere, life had already decided it would continue. You wished your heart would learn to do the same.
Sleep had barely visited you the previous night. Every time you closed your eyes, you found yourself back in Jungkook’s living room. The quiet house. Two untouched cups of tea. The rain against the windows. The moment when the distance between two old friends almost disappeared.
Nothing had happened. That should have been comforting. Instead, it hurt in ways you hadn’t expected. Because you had realized something about yourself that frightened you.
You no longer visited that house only for Hana. Somewhere between hospital visits, grocery shopping, shared dinners, movie nights, and ordinary conversations, it had quietly become a place where you felt at home. That was exactly why you had to step away.
You reached for your phone. One unread message waited from the night before.
Jungkook: Let me know when you get home.
You stared at it for several seconds before replying.
Sorry. I got home safely. I fell asleep right away.
His response came almost immediately.
Good. Have a good day at work.
Simple, polite, nothing unusual. Yet when the conversation ended after only two messages, the silence that followed felt strangely unfamiliar.
For months, your chats had stretched throughout the day. Pictures of Hana proudly showing another drawing. Questions about groceries. Arguments over which fried chicken restaurant was better. Late night reminders for Jungkook to eat after finishing work. The conversations had never been extraordinary. They had simply become part of everyday life. Now, after two short messages, the screen went quiet.
You slipped the phone into your bag before you could think about it any longer. At work, you buried yourself beneath projects that had nothing to do with your actual responsibilities.
When your manager asked if anyone could help another department finish a presentation before Friday, you volunteered before anyone else spoke. When someone mentioned staying late to review documents, you offered to do it yourself. Even your coworkers noticed.
“You’ve been working nonstop lately,” one of them remarked during lunch.
You smiled without looking up from your laptop. “I’ve been behind.”
“You?”
She laughed. “I don’t believe that for a second.”
You only smiled. Explaining would have been impossible. Work wasn’t the reason you stayed. You simply needed somewhere to be after five o’clock that wasn’t Jungkook’s house.
Around lunchtime, your phone vibrated. A photograph appeared.
Hana sat inside a grocery cart wearing a tiny yellow raincoat despite the sunshine. She held two bananas against her ears like telephones, laughing so hard her eyes had nearly disappeared.
Jungkook: She insists they’re bunny ears now.
The picture made you laugh before you realized you were smiling. Your fingers typed automatically.
She’s very convincing.
Another picture arrived. This time Hana had somehow convinced an elderly cashier to wear one banana on her head. You covered your mouth to hide another laugh. Then a final message appeared.
She asked where Y/N is.
The smile slowly faded from your face. You stared at the screen for nearly a minute. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard several times before finally settling on a simple reply.
Tell her Y/N has a lot of work this week. Give her a hug for me.
Jungkook reacted with a small thumbs up. Nothing more. You placed the phone face down on your desk. The rest of the afternoon felt much longer than usual.
Meanwhile, across the city, Jungkook carried grocery bags through the front door while Hana toddled behind him, proudly carrying a single loaf of bread as though it weighed a hundred kilograms. “We’re home,” he announced.
Hana immediately looked around. “Y/N?”
Jungkook smiled. “She's working today.”
She accepted the answer with a tiny nod before running toward the living room.
He unpacked vegetables, fruit, milk, and rice. Without thinking, he placed three bowls onto the kitchen counter.
His hands stopped. He stared at them. For several seconds he couldn’t remember why he had taken out three. Then he quietly returned one bowl to the cabinet. The movement felt oddly disappointing.
Dinner that evening was simple. Grilled fish, rice, vegetables. Hana happily talked about rabbits she had seen in a picture book. Every few minutes she looked toward the front door. “Y/N come?”
Jungkook kept his voice light. “Not tonight.”
She thought about that answer. “Tomorrow?”
“Maybe.”
Satisfied for the moment, she continued eating. Yet each time headlights passed outside the window, her small head turned instinctively toward the entrance.
The days continued that way. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Your routine changed completely. You left work after sunset. Cooked quick meals for yourself. Folded laundry while television played quietly in the background. Read half a chapter of a novel before falling asleep from exhaustion.
It was peaceful. It was exactly what you had wanted. Then why did your apartment feel so unbearably quiet?
Several times you caught yourself buying Hana’s favorite yogurt before remembering she wasn’t there. One evening you almost drove toward Jungkook’s neighborhood out of habit. You only realized your mistake after passing the familiar intersection.
You pulled into a convenience store parking lot and rested your forehead against the steering wheel. Some habits settled into the body long before they reached the heart.
Jungkook noticed the changes more slowly. Life remained busy. Morning meetings with engineers from different time zones. System architecture reviews. Client presentations. Software deployments that occasionally stretched long into the evening. Laundry. Cooking. Cleaning. Bedtime stories. Days filled themselves naturally. Still, strange moments began appearing. Tiny pauses.
He photographed Hana proudly stacking building blocks nearly as tall as herself. Without thinking, he opened your chat. His thumb hovered above the send button. Then he remembered you’re busy. He closed the conversation. The photograph remained unsent.
Another afternoon he perfected a new pasta recipe after several failed attempts. His first instinct was to send you a picture with the caption:
Finally didn’t burn it.
Instead, he deleted the message before it was ever written.
Friday evening arrived. Hana helped him prepare dinner. She carefully placed spoons beside every plate. One. Two. Three. Jungkook watched quietly “Hana.”
She looked up. “We only need two.”
She blinked. “But Y/N.”
The words settled over the kitchen with heartbreaking innocence. Jungkook crouched beside her. “She's working.”
She looked at the empty chair. Then slowly removed the extra spoon. The tiny clink against the drawer echoed far louder than it should have.
After dinner she carried her coloring book into the living room. Crayons scattered across the floor. “Daddy.”
“Hm?”
“I draw Y/N.”
“You can.”
He watched as she carefully drew three smiling figures holding hands beneath an enormous yellow sun. To Hana, love was still wonderfully uncomplicated. People she loved simply belonged together inside the same picture.
Saturday arrived. For months, Saturdays had become your day. The aquarium. The park. Picnics. Movie marathons. Grocery shopping followed by homemade dinner.
The rhythm had become so natural that none of you had ever discussed it. It simply happened.
That morning, Hana woke unusually early. She climbed into Jungkook’s bed carrying her stuffed rabbit. “Daddy.”
“Good morning.”
“See Y/N?”
He gently brushed messy hair away from her forehead. “She's busy today.”
She frowned. “Tomorrow?”
He smiled softly. “Maybe.”
She accepted the answer because children still believed tomorrow could fix almost anything.
Later that afternoon, after returning from the playground, Hana wandered into the kitchen while Jungkook prepared dinner. She opened the refrigerator looking for juice. Her eyes landed on the drawing still attached with a small rabbit magnet.
Three smiling figures. One little girl. One man. One woman. She pointed proudly. “Family.”
Jungkook froze. His knife remained suspended above the cutting board. He looked at the drawing for a long time. Then quietly continued chopping vegetables without saying anything.
That night, after Hana had fallen asleep, he wandered downstairs with a glass of water. The house was silent. His laptop remained open on the dining table. Unread work emails waited patiently. He ignored them.
Instead, he found himself standing in front of the refrigerator once again. The drawing hadn’t changed. Only the house had.
Everything remained exactly where it had always been. The toys. The blankets. The framed photographs. The little shoes near the entrance. Yet something was undeniably missing.
The sound of another voice drifting from the kitchen while dinner cooked. Someone laughing with Hana over badly drawn rabbits. A second mug beside his own after bedtime. The ordinary moments that had quietly woven themselves into everyday life.
He rested one hand against the refrigerator door. For months he had believed healing meant surviving grief. He was only beginning to understand that healing also meant noticing the people who had carried you through it.
He still refused to give those thoughts a name. He wasn’t ready. Perhaps he wouldn’t be for a long time. He only knew one simple truth.
The house had not become quieter because someone left. It had become quieter because someone had unknowingly become part of its heartbeat. And only after that heartbeat faded did he finally hear the silence.
Time had a strange way of reshaping grief. It never truly disappeared. It simply learned how to exist more quietly.
Nearly seven months had passed since Mina’s funeral. The unbearable silence that had once filled every corner of Jungkook’s house had softened into something gentler. Her photographs still stood on the shelves. Birthdays, anniversaries, and familiar songs still carried an ache neither of you could explain. But the pain no longer swallowed entire days. Life, stubborn as it always was, kept moving. So did all of you.
You had made a promise to yourself after the night you almost crossed a line that could never be taken back. You would still be there for Hana. You simply could not allow yourself to become too comfortable inside that house again.
The change happened so gradually that no one could point to the exact day it began. You still visited every week. Sometimes twice. Sometimes only once. You brought Hana new coloring books because she had recently become obsessed with rabbits wearing tiny dresses. Other days you arrived carrying fresh strawberries from the market because she had declared strawberries tasted sweeter when Y/N bought them. Nothing about your love for the little girl had changed. Only your habits had.
You no longer arrived straight from work every evening. You stopped staying for dinner. Movie nights quietly disappeared. Weekend breakfasts became memories. Whenever Jungkook asked if you wanted coffee, you smiled apologetically and glanced at your watch. “I should head home before it gets too late.”
When he suggested eating together, you always had another explanation waiting. “I still need to finish reports.”
“My manager gave me extra work.”
“I promised my mom I’d visit.”
The excuses sounded convincing enough. Only you knew they weren’t entirely true.
The hardest part wasn’t leaving. It was forcing yourself to leave while Hana wrapped both tiny arms around your waist and asked if you could stay just a little longer.
Monday morning arrived with overflowing inboxes and another week of deadlines. The office buzzed with the familiar rhythm of keyboards, printers, ringing telephones, and conversations drifting over low cubicle walls.
You settled into your desk with a cup of coffee, grateful for the distraction. Work had become your safest hiding place. It demanded your attention so completely that there was rarely enough room left for regret.
Around lunch, while waiting for documents to print, you found yourself standing near the pantry. A few coworkers gathered around the coffee machine. They hadn’t noticed you yet. “You remember that guy who used to pick her up?”
“The handsome one?”
“The widower.”
“Yeah. The one from that magazine article years ago.”
“I heard he’s a senior software engineer for some international company.”
“I haven’t seen him lately.”
“Maybe whatever that was already ended.”
A quiet laugh followed. “I told you. It would’ve looked bad anyway. His wife only passed away a few months ago.”
Another voice lowered almost to a whisper. “Still… they were together a lot.”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe people started talking.”
“They probably realized how it looked.”
You stood perfectly still. The printer continued humming behind you. Every word reached your ears with uncomfortable clarity.
They weren’t shouting. They weren’t trying to be cruel. To them, it was simply another conversation to help pass the afternoon.
They didn’t know the whole story. They didn’t know you had loved Jungkook silently since middle school without ever confessing. They didn’t know you had spent years stepping aside so your best friend could be happy. They didn’t know you had stayed only because a little girl had lost her mother. People rarely knew the entire truth before creating their own version of it.
You quietly collected your documents and walked away before anyone noticed you standing there. The hallway suddenly felt much longer than it had that morning.
Across the city, Jungkook sat inside his home office wearing headphones while discussing system architecture with engineers spread across three different countries.
Lines of code filled one monitor. Technical diagrams covered another. Outside the office door, Hana could be heard singing to herself while stacking colorful blocks in the hallway.
His work had finally begun to resemble what it used to be before everything fell apart. Months ago, concentrating for more than twenty minutes had felt impossible. Now entire mornings disappeared inside programming sessions, client meetings, and software reviews.
Life wasn’t normal. It probably never would be. But it had found a rhythm again.
When the final meeting ended shortly after three, he stretched his shoulders and closed his laptop.
“Daddy!” Hana burst into the room wearing one sock and carrying a stuffed rabbit upside down.
“I’m done working.”
She climbed onto his lap without asking permission.“Daddy…”
“Hm?”
“Y/N today?”
He smiled. “I think she’s busy.”
She frowned thoughtfully. “Y/N always busy.”
He laughed softly. “I know.”
The little girl rested her cheek against his chest. “I miss Y/N.”
“So do I…”
The answer escaped before he realized he had spoken aloud.
Hana was too young to notice. She simply nodded as though his response made perfect sense. “I miss Y/N too.”
Saturday morning finally arrived. For the first time that week, your car turned onto the familiar street.
The neighborhood looked exactly as it always had. Children rode bicycles beneath flowering trees. Neighbors watered gardens. Somewhere nearby, someone grilled meat even though it wasn’t yet lunchtime.
The ordinary sights made your chest ache. This place had become familiar enough to feel like another home.
You parked outside the house carrying two paper bags. One held fresh vegetables and fruit. The other contained a rabbit picture book Hana had pointed at through a bookstore window nearly two weeks earlier. You had bought it that same afternoon. Even while convincing yourself to keep your distance, you had still been thinking about her.
The front door opened before you could knock. Tiny footsteps echoed through the hallway. “Y/N!”
Hana launched herself into your arms with enough enthusiasm to make you stumble backward. You laughed, catching her effortlessly. “Hi, bunny.”
“I miss you.”
“I missed you too.”
She cupped your cheeks with both tiny hands as though making sure you were really there. “You come tomorrow?”
You smiled. “We’ll see.”
“No.”
She shook her head seriously. “Tomorrow.”
You kissed her forehead. “We’ll see, okay?”
She accepted the answer with visible reluctance before dragging you toward the living room to show every important discovery she had made during the week.
A new rabbit drawing. A puzzle she could almost finish by herself. The tower Daddy helped build before it accidentally collapsed. Her excitement filled every room she entered.
Jungkook emerged from the kitchen carrying two mugs. He had changed since the last time you truly looked at him.
His hair had grown slightly longer on top after the haircut his mother insisted on. His shoulders appeared stronger. The months of exercising each morning had returned healthy color to his face.
There was still sadness inside him. You doubted it would ever disappear completely. But it no longer defined everything people saw.
“You made it.”
“I said I would.”
“I wasn’t sure.”
He handed you a mug. “Coffee?”
You accepted it this time. “Thank you.”
For a while the three of you settled naturally into familiar routines. Hana colored while sitting between both of you on the living room rug. She proudly announced every color she used before carefully scribbling another rabbit across the page. Jungkook quietly fixed one of her broken crayons with a lighter after she snapped it in half.
You smiled. “You’ve gotten good at that.”
He laughed. “Occupational hazard of raising a two year old.”
The conversation flowed easily. Comfortably. No lingering stares. No accidental touches. Only ordinary moments.
Somehow, they felt even more dangerous. Because ordinary moments were exactly what made people feel at home.
An hour passed. Then another. You glanced at the clock. “I should probably go.”
Hana looked up immediately. “So soon?”
“I have laundry waiting.”
“You always laundry.”
You laughed despite yourself. “I know.”
She wrapped both arms around your waist. “Stay dinner.”
Your smile softened. “Not today.”
“But Daddy cooking.”
“I know.”
“Please?”
The tiny word almost broke your resolve. Before you could answer, Jungkook quietly intervened. “It’s okay, bunny.”
Hana looked disappointed. “But…”
“Y/N has things to do.”
She lowered her head. “Okay…”
You crouched until your eyes met hers. “I’ll visit again.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
She searched your face for several seconds before finally nodding.
Jungkook walked you to the front porch. The afternoon breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass through the quiet neighborhood. For a moment neither of you spoke. Finally he looked toward the street. “You’ve been leaving earlier.”
You smiled gently. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”
“I notice a lot of things.”
His voice remained calm, almost thoughtful. “The house feels different now.”
You looked down at your hands. “I don’t want to become a burden.”
His brows knitted together. “You’ve never been one.”
Silence settled comfortably between you. Some conversations didn’t need immediate answers.
“I should go.”
He nodded.b“Drive safely.”
As you climbed into your car, Hana waved enthusiastically from the living room window. Jungkook stood a few steps behind her. Neither of them moved until your car disappeared at the end of the street.
That evening, after Hana had fallen asleep clutching her new rabbit book against her chest, Jungkook wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water. His eyes landed on the refrigerator. Hana’s family drawing still hung beneath the little rabbit magnet.
He smiled faintly. Then his gaze drifted toward the dining table. Three placemats. Only two had been used.
Without thinking, he reached for the third one. His fingertips rested against the woven fabric for several quiet seconds before he folded it neatly and returned it to the cabinet.
The movement should have felt ordinary. Instead, the empty space left behind seemed impossible to ignore.
Healing had slowly returned laughter to the house. It had given Hana reasons to smile again. It had taught him how to breathe without feeling guilty. Yet somewhere along the way, another quiet truth had taken root.
Some people entered your life so gently that you never noticed how deeply they had become woven into your everyday existence. You only understood after they began leaving a little earlier than before. And suddenly, every goodbye lingered long after the front door closed.
The city was wrapped in the quiet gray of an overcast afternoon. Rain had fallen earlier that morning, leaving the streets washed clean and the air carrying the faint scent of wet pavement and pine from the trees lining the sidewalks. Cars drifted past without urgency, their tires sending gentle ripples through shallow puddles that reflected the cloudy sky.
You stood outside the familiar building for several seconds before finally stepping inside. It had been months since you last visited. Nothing had changed. The hallway still echoed with distant music leaking from practice rooms. Framed albums and photographs still decorated the walls. Someone laughed somewhere down the corridor before a door closed, replacing the sound with silence once again.
You stopped in front of one particular studio and knocked softly. A few seconds later, the door opened. Yoongi stared at you in complete surprise. “…Well.”
His eyebrows lifted. “I was beginning to think you forgot this place existed.”
You laughed quietly. “I almost did.”
He stepped aside without another word. “Come in.”
The studio felt exactly as you remembered. A piano rested near the window. Several guitars leaned against one wall. Two computer monitors displayed unfinished music projects. Half-filled coffee cups occupied nearly every available surface, a habit everyone had teased Yoongi about since university. He noticed your eyes scanning the room. “I cleaned.”
You looked around again. “No, you didn’t.”
He sighed. “I moved the mess.”
A small smile escaped you before either of you realized it.
Yoongi walked toward the coffee machine. “Coffee?”
“If it’s still drinkable.”
“It probably isn’t.”
“Then why are you offering it?”
“To see how desperate you are.”
You laughed for the first time that day.
He handed you a fresh cup instead. “I made a new pot five minutes ago.”
You accepted it gratefully. The warmth settled comfortably between your hands.
For a while neither of you spoke. There was no pressure to fill the silence. Yoongi had always been good at that. He understood that some people needed quiet before they found the courage to speak.
Finally he leaned against his desk. “So.”
“So.”
“You didn’t come here because you suddenly missed me.”
“I did.”
“Liar.”
You smiled into your coffee. “I wanted to check on you.”
He watched you for a long moment. “You’ve been checking on everyone except yourself.”
The words landed more gently than you expected. His eyes narrowed slightly.
“You’ve also disappeared.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Hm.”
“I have.”
“I didn’t say you hadn’t.”
Another pause settled between both of you. Then he asked the question you had been expecting.
“I thought you’d be at Jungkook’s.”
Your fingers tightened around the paper cup. “I haven’t been going as often.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“Hana told Namjoon that Y/N has become very busy.”
A bittersweet smile crossed your face. “She probably thinks I’m always working.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Sometimes.”
“And the rest?”
You lowered your gaze. “The rest…”
Your voice became quieter. “I’ve been trying to stay away.”
Yoongi remained completely still. He didn’t interrupt. Words came easier when someone wasn’t trying to rescue them.
“I stopped staying for dinner.”
“I stopped visiting every weekend.”
“I always made sure I had somewhere else to be.”
You swallowed. “At first I thought it would become easier.”
“It didn’t.”
The room grew quieter. Outside the rain began falling again, tapping gently against the windows. You looked toward the blurred city beyond the glass.
“Mina has only been gone seven months.”
“I know.”
“Sometimes it feels like yesterday.”
“Sometimes it feels like years.”
Yoongi nodded once. You smiled sadly. “I thought creating distance would help everyone.”
“Did it?”
“No.”
Your answer came immediately. “It only made Hana confused.”
You looked down at your hands. “And then…”
Your voice faltered for the first time. “My coworkers started talking.”
Yoongi’s expression hardened ever so slightly.
“They saw Jungkook picking me up after work.”
“They started putting pieces together that didn’t belong together.”
“They don’t know anything.”
“They don’t need to.”
You laughed without humor. “They’ve already decided the story.”
Your eyes became glassy. “I kept telling myself I didn’t care.”
“But every whisper felt heavier.”
“And then Mina’s mother came.”
You stopped speaking altogether. Yoongi waited. Eventually you continued. “She looked at me…”
You searched for the right words. “…as though I had quietly stepped into a place that would never belong to me.”
Your voice became barely audible. “She told me I should know my place.”
Silence settled heavily across the room. You blinked several times before a tear escaped despite your efforts. “I know she was grieving.”
“I know she wasn’t trying to hurt me.”
“But…”
Your shoulders sank. “I’ve repeated those words to myself every day since then.”
Yoongi set his untouched coffee aside. Then he spoke. “You know what I think?”
You wiped your eyes. “What?”
“I think people are fascinating.”
You looked at him in confusion. He folded his arms. “They spend their entire lives making terrible decisions.”
“They lie.”
“They cheat.”
“They hurt people.”
“They judge strangers while hiding their own mess.”
He shrugged. “Then somehow they still find enough energy to gossip during lunch breaks.”
A tiny laugh escaped you.
“I’m serious.” He continued.
“Tell me something.”
“If a coworker gets divorced tomorrow…”
You blinked. “Okay.”
“They’ll gossip.”
“If another coworker gets promoted…”
“They’ll gossip.”
“If someone gains weight…”
“They’ll gossip.”
“If someone loses weight…”
“They’ll gossip.”
“If someone breathes too loudly in the pantry…”
“They’ll probably gossip.”
You smiled despite yourself. He leaned back against the desk. “People need stories.”
“They get bored living their own lives.”
“So they borrow pieces of everyone else’s.”
The smile faded from your face. “But Mina…”
Yoongi nodded.
“I loved Mina.”
“So did all of us.”
“I miss her every day.”
His voice softened.
“I also miss the version of our lives before everything fell apart.”
He looked toward the rain outside. “But she’s gone.”
The truth settled quietly between you.
“We honor the people we’ve lost.”
“We don’t stop living beside them.”
His eyes returned to yours. “Seven months.”
“Seven years.”
“Seventeen years.”
“No amount of time will suddenly make someone stand up and announce that it’s finally acceptable to smile again.”
He sighed. “If you wait for everyone’s permission to live…”
“You’ll spend your whole life waiting.”
You remained silent. He smiled faintly. “You know what adulthood actually is?”
“What?”
“Accepting that everyone is a little ridiculous.”
You laughed through lingering tears.
“I’m serious.”
“The sooner you realize every person is carrying around their own mistakes, regrets, and embarrassments, the less frightening their opinions become.”
He reached for his coffee again. “I’ve written songs people hated.”
“I’ve written songs people loved.”
“I’ve worn clothes people called ugly.”
“I’ve had hairstyles I now regret.”
He smirked. “Especially 2012.”
You laughed louder this time. “I remember.”
“I looked like a depressed mushroom.”
The room felt lighter. Because someone had quietly reminded you they were survivable.
Yoongi looked at you with the calm certainty that had always made him the one everyone turned to during difficult times. “You have never taken anything from Mina.”
His words carried no hesitation. “You stood beside her when she was happy.”
“You stood beside her when she made mistakes.”
“You stood beside Jungkook and Hana after the world collapsed.”
He held your gaze. “If anyone tells me that kindness deserves punishment, they’re welcome to explain it to me.”
You lowered your head. A tear landed quietly on your hands. When you finally looked back up, your breathing felt steadier. “Thank you.”
Yoongi shrugged as though the conversation had been nothing extraordinary. “I charged Namjoon for emotional support once.”
“You did not.”
“I almost did.”
“You’d actually make him pay.”
“He has a stable job.”
You shook your head, laughing. “You’re unbelievable.”
As the rain continued falling outside, you realized it was the first afternoon in weeks that your heart no longer felt quite so heavy. Sometimes that was enough. Sometimes healing arrived disguised as an ordinary conversation over coffee with an old friend who refused to let guilt become the loudest voice in the room.
The rain had eased into a light drizzle by the time you stepped out of Yoongi’s studio. The conversation stayed with you as you walked toward the subway station. His words had not erased the guilt you carried, but they had quieted the relentless noise inside your head. For the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to believe that grief and healing could exist together.
Your phone vibrated inside your coat pocket. You expected another work email. Instead, the screen lit up with Jungkook’s name. For a few seconds, you simply looked at it. Then you opened the message.
Hana made something today. She keeps saying she wants to show Y/N whenever you’re free. No rush. Just letting you know.
You stared at the words longer than you meant to. There was no pressure. No request for you to come over immediately. No explanation. Just a father passing along his daughter’s wish.
A small smile found its way onto your face. You typed a reply. Tell her Y/N wants to see it too. I’ll visit this weekend if that’s okay.
The three dots appeared almost immediately.
She’ll be very happy. Thank you.
You slipped your phone back into your pocket and continued walking through the damp streets. For the first time since you began creating distance, the silence between you and Jungkook no longer felt like something that needed to be filled. It simply felt like two people trying to find a healthy rhythm again.
Across town, Jungkook was kneeling on the living room floor beside Hana. Construction paper, crayons, child-safe scissors, and colorful stickers covered the coffee table. Hana held up a sheet of paper with unmistakable pride. “Y/N!”
Jungkook smiled. “She’ll see it soon.”
Hana nodded as though there had never been any doubt. Satisfied, she pressed another star-shaped sticker onto the page before climbing into his lap. He looked down at the colorful artwork. It was impossible to tell exactly what everything represented.
There were bright circles, crooked flowers, a tiny rabbit, and three smiling stick figures holding hands beneath a large yellow sun. Children often drew happiness before they understood how to explain it.
Jungkook carefully placed the drawing somewhere it would not wrinkle. He glanced toward his phone resting on the coffee table. Your reply remained on the screen.
That evening, after Hana had fallen asleep, Jungkook stood in the doorway of her room for a moment before turning off the light. The colorful drawing remained on the dining table downstairs, waiting for the weekend.
He smiled to himself. Some promises were small. Visiting to see a child’s drawing was one of them. Sometimes those were the promises that mattered most.
The house stirred awake long before sunrise. Gray morning light seeped through the curtains, washing the living room in muted shades of silver. Outside, the neighborhood was still quiet. A delivery truck rumbled somewhere down the street, birds gathered on telephone wires, and a cool breeze carried the scent of rain that had fallen during the night.
Upstairs, Jungkook’s alarm sounded at six. He silenced it before it could ring twice. For several seconds he remained lying still, listening.
Silence. No tiny footsteps. No sleepy voice calling for Daddy. No stuffed rabbit landing on the floor. It was one of those rare mornings when Hana had not yet awakened before him.
He quietly climbed out of bed, showered, changed into a plain black T-shirt and gray sweatpants, then padded downstairs barefoot.
Coffee began brewing while he prepared breakfast. Tiny rabbit shaped pancakes that never turned out perfectly no matter how many times he tried.
As he flipped another pancake, he heard slow footsteps approaching. Hana appeared in the hallway wearing oversized rabbit pajamas, her hair sticking out in every direction from sleep.
Usually she greeted him with a bright smile. Today she simply stood there. Her stuffed rabbit dragged behind her.
Jungkook smiled warmly. “Good morning, bunny.”
She looked around the kitchen. Then toward the dining table. Then toward the front door. “Y/N?”
His smile softened. “Y/N is at work today.”
She frowned. “When come?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe this weekend.”
She climbed onto her chair without another word. Breakfast remained untouched. She pushed a strawberry across her plate with her tiny fork. “Daddy.”
“Hm?”
“I miss Y/N.”
He reached across the table and gently squeezed her small hand. “I know.”
Hana managed only a few bites. For a little girl who normally chatted through every meal, the silence felt unusually heavy.
By eight o’clock Jungkook was seated in his home office upstairs. Three monitors glowed in front of him. One displayed lines of code. Another showed architectural diagrams for a cloud migration project. The third filled with colleagues joining a video conference from different parts of the world.
He adjusted his headset. “Good morning, everyone.”
Before anyone answered, the office door opened a crack. Tiny fingers appeared first. Then Hana. She peeked inside. “Daddy…”
He muted his microphone immediately. “Come here.”
She climbed onto his lap carrying her rabbit. He balanced his laptop with one hand while holding her securely with the other. One of his teammates smiled through the screen. “Special visitor today?”
“My supervisor.”
Several people laughed. Hana looked curiously at the faces on the monitor before whispering, “Y/N?”
Jungkook kissed the top of her head. “Not today.”
She nodded sadly.
When the meeting ended twenty minutes later, she was still sitting quietly against his chest. Normally she would have become restless long before then. Something was different.
By late morning he decided fresh air might help. They walked hand in hand to the neighborhood park. Children chased bubbles across the grass. Parents pushed swings. Someone flew a bright yellow kite above the open field.
Hana usually ran toward the playground before he even reached the entrance. Today she remained beside him.
“You want the swing?”
A tiny shrug. He lifted her carefully onto the seat and gave the gentlest push. She moved back and forth without smiling.
After only a minute she asked, “Go home?”
“You don’t want to play?”
“No.”
He carried her back toward the car.
On the drive away he glanced in the rearview mirror. She stared quietly out the window.
Next came the grocery store. He handed her the smallest shopping basket. “You get to help Daddy today.”
Usually she loved choosing bananas and proudly placing apples into the cart. Today she selected one apple. Then stopped. She hugged the basket instead.“Y/N buy apples.”
Jungkook nodded. “She does.”
“We buy too.”
“We will.”
They bought apples. Strawberries. Milk. The rabbit shaped crackers she always shared with you. Without thinking, he reached for two boxes before realizing there was no reason to buy extra anymore. He stood still for a moment. Then quietly placed one back on the shelf.
The children’s café was their last attempt. Colorful climbing frames stretched across the room. Picture books filled low shelves. Soft music played through hidden speakers. Parents chatted over coffee while toddlers laughed inside the ball pit.
Hana wandered inside holding his finger. She climbed halfway up a tiny slide. Stopped. Came back down. She colored one rabbit. Then laid the crayon aside. The hot chocolate he ordered remained almost untouched.
“Daddy.”
“Hm?”
“I go Y/N house?”
He smiled gently. “Not today.”
Her eyes lowered. “Okay.”
There was no protest. That somehow made his heart ache more.
By evening rain had begun falling steadily. The windows blurred beneath countless droplets. Jungkook prepared warm soup for dinner. Hana refused almost every spoonful.
He never forced her. He simply sat beside her until she accepted a few bites.
After her bath she climbed into fresh pajamas. He warmed milk exactly the way she liked it. Read every rabbit story he knew. Made exaggerated voices. Even attempted the squeaky little laugh you always gave the smallest rabbit in the book. For one brief second Hana almost smiled. Then her eyes filled with tears.
“No…”
“What is it?”
“Y/N read.”
“I can try.”
She shook her head. “No.”
Her crying grew louder. The kind of crying that came when a toddler’s heart held feelings she could not yet explain.
Jungkook carried her through the living room. He hummed. Rocked gently. Pointed toward the rain outside. Nothing helped.
Nearly an hour passed. He looked at the clock. Then toward his phone. He had promised himself he would respect the distance you were trying to create. He understood why you needed it. He did not want to ask more of you.
Yet he also knew that asking for help did not make him less of a father. Sometimes loving a child meant accepting that they were cared for by more than one safe adult. He picked up his keys.
Your apartment building stood quiet beneath the rain. He carried Hana carefully beneath one arm while holding an umbrella over both of them. She had cried herself into tired hiccups.
When he reached your door he hesitated. Then knocked. A few moments later the door opened. Surprise crossed your face. “Jungkook?”
Before he answered, Hana reached toward you with both arms. “Y/N…”
Your expression softened instantly. “Oh, bunny.”
You gathered her close. “I’ve missed you.”
She pressed her face against your shoulder. The crying slowed. You gently rubbed small circles across her back. “I’m sorry I’ve been busy.”
“You must have wondered where I went.”
You began humming the familiar lullaby you had sung to her since she was an infant. Little by little, her breathing became calmer.
Her fingers loosened around your sweater. Within minutes she rested peacefully against you.
Jungkook watched quietly. The relief on his face was impossible to hide. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.
“I tried everything.”
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
You smiled kindly. “You don’t have to apologize.”
You stepped aside. “Come in before you both catch cold.”
Inside, the apartment smelled faintly of tea and freshly washed laundry. You settled onto the couch with Hana still sleeping against your shoulder while Jungkook quietly accepted the mug of warm tea you offered.
For a while neither of you spoke. The only sounds came from rain tapping softly against the windows and the slow, peaceful breathing of the little girl asleep between people she trusted. Jungkook looked toward Hana and smiled. “Thank you.”
That night, when he carried Hana back to the car, she remained asleep, her rabbit tucked safely beneath one arm.
As he drove home through rain-washed streets, he found himself grateful. Grateful that Hana had people who loved her. Grateful that asking for help did not diminish his role as her father. Grateful that healing sometimes looked as simple as a child finally finding enough comfort to sleep.
Back upstairs in your apartment, you watched the taillights disappear into the distance before quietly closing the curtains.
The evening had reminded you of one simple truth. No one raises a child alone. Sometimes the strongest families are held together by kindness, patience, and the quiet decision to keep showing up for one another, one ordinary day at a time.
Morning arrived quietly. The city had not yet surrendered to the rush of commuters, and for a little while everything beyond the windows of Jungkook’s home felt suspended between yesterday and tomorrow.
The rhythmic sound of gloves striking the heavy punching bag echoed through the small home gym.
Sweat dampened the back of his black shirt as he stepped away from the punching bag, slowing his breathing before wiping his forehead with a towel draped around his neck.
The house was still asleep.
Upstairs, Hana remained curled beneath her rabbit-print blanket, hugging the worn stuffed bunny she refused to sleep without. Every few minutes she shifted in her sleep, murmuring something unintelligible before settling again.
Jungkook smiled to himself.
There had been a time when mornings terrified him. Every sunrise reminded him that Mina would never wake beside him again. Somewhere along the way, those mornings had become less frightening. They still carried sadness, but they also carried breakfast to make, meetings to attend, laundry waiting in the washing machine, and a little girl who depended on him to greet each day with a smile, even on the mornings when he still struggled to find one.
The front doorbell rang softly.
He glanced at the clock.
A little after seven.
He already knew who it was.
Drying his hands, he crossed the living room and quietly opened the door.
You stood outside holding two insulated bags in one hand and your work bag in the other. Your hair was still slightly damp from your shower, and the morning breeze lifted a few loose strands across your face.
“I hope I didn’t wake anyone.”
“You never do.”
You smiled, lifting the bags slightly.
“I made breakfast before work. I figured you probably haven’t eaten yet.”
“You didn’t have to.”
The familiar warmth of homemade food drifted from the containers as you stepped inside.
“I made rice porridge for Hana. She wasn’t feeling herself the last time I saw her, so I thought something light would be nice. There’s vegetable omelet for you, too. I packed fruit separately so it won’t get soggy.”
Jungkook looked down at the neatly labeled containers.
“You always think of everything.”
You shrugged as though it were nothing.
“I just know toddlers can suddenly decide they hate food they loved yesterday.”
He laughed quietly.
“That’s definitely Hana.”
You carefully placed everything inside the refrigerator before glancing toward the staircase.
“Still asleep?”
He nodded.
“She finally slept through the night.”
“I’m glad.”
For a brief moment, neither of you spoke.
Morning sunlight stretched across the kitchen floor, casting long golden rectangles beneath your feet.
It felt peaceful.
Comfortably familiar.
You checked the time on your phone and sighed.
“I really have to go.”
“You’ve been leaving earlier these days.”
“My department has a project deadline.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie.
Work had become busier.
You had also been choosing longer hours whenever possible.
Keeping yourself occupied was easier than giving your heart too much room to wander.
Jungkook opened the door for you.
“Drive safely.”
You started walking toward your car before turning back.
“Oh, and remind Hana that I promised we’d read the rabbit story this weekend.”
“I will.”
He watched until your car disappeared beyond the corner.
Only then did he quietly close the front door.
The office greeted you with its usual chorus of keyboards, ringing telephones, and conversations blending together beneath bright fluorescent lights.
You greeted everyone with the same polite smile you had worn every morning for years.
Most smiled back.
A few seemed unusually cheerful.
“Good morning.”
“Morning.”
“How was your weekend?”
“It was good.”
The conversations were ordinary.
Almost too ordinary.
You had learned over the past several months that people often smiled the brightest to the faces they discussed most once those faces disappeared.
As you walked toward your desk, two coworkers who had been whispering near the coffee machine suddenly stopped talking.
One offered an almost exaggerated smile.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
You returned the greeting without slowing your pace.
The whispering resumed behind you before you had even reached your chair.
You pretended not to hear.
Pretending had become easier.
There were battles that deserved your energy.
Office gossip was not one of them.
Still, words had a way of finding their target even when spoken quietly.
“…Maybe they finally stopped seeing each other.”
“I told you it wouldn’t last.”
“It was strange anyway.”
The rest disappeared beneath the hum of printers.
You kept walking.
Your fingers tightened slightly around the strap of your bag.
Nothing else.
No tears.
No confrontation.
Only quiet exhaustion.
By lunchtime you had almost forgotten the whispers.
Almost.
Your phone vibrated against the desk.
You expected another work notification.
Instead, a familiar name appeared across the screen.
Kim Seokjin
Your heart skipped.
It had been months.
Since the argument.
Since he had walked away from everyone.
Since he had stopped answering messages.
The preview contained only a single sentence.
Can we meet?
You stared at the screen for a long time.
Across the city, Jungkook spent the afternoon balancing meetings with snack time, software architecture reviews with building block towers, and answering emails while Hana proudly colored beside him at the dining table.
Working from home had become its own rhythm.
Whenever a meeting ended, he found himself looking toward Hana first.
Whenever she laughed, the apartment seemed brighter.
The doorbell rang shortly after three.
His mother entered carrying three reusable shopping bags that looked far heavier than she admitted.
“Hana!”
The little girl squealed happily.
“Grandma!”
Within minutes the kitchen counters were covered with vegetables, fruit, homemade side dishes, rice, soup containers, and enough food to feed an army.
Jungkook laughed.
“Mom…”
“What?”
“There are only two of us.”
“Nonsense.”
She pointed a finger toward him.
“You work too much.”
“You’ll forget to eat.”
“So I brought food.”
She paused before studying her son carefully.
A slow smile spread across her face.
“You’ve gained a little weight.”
“I have?”
“The healthy kind.”
She reached up and gently brushed imaginary lint from his shoulder.
“You’ve been exercising again.”
“Mhm.”
“And finally shaved.”
He laughed.
She stepped back and admired him dramatically.
“My son is handsome again.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes.
“Mom…”
“I’m serious.”
She folded her arms.
“You’re still young.”
He already knew where the conversation was heading.
“No.”
“I haven’t even finished.”
“I know exactly what you’re going to say.”
She smiled knowingly.
“You deserve to be happy again someday.”
Jungkook looked down at Hana, who was stacking toy cups into a crooked tower.
“I’m happy.”
“You know what I mean.”
He remained quiet.
His mother softened.
“I’m not asking you to replace anyone.”
“I’m asking you not to close your heart forever.”
For reasons he couldn’t explain, your face quietly crossed his mind.
The image appeared so naturally that it startled him.
He dismissed it almost immediately.
He wasn’t ready to examine why.
Instead, he changed the subject.
“My company wants me in Germany next month.”
His mother looked up.
“For work?”
He nodded.
“Just a few days.”
“I’ve been avoiding overseas travel since…”
He didn’t finish.
She understood anyway.
“Hana and I will have a wonderful vacation together.”
“You don’t mind?”
She laughed.
“I raised you.”
“I think I can handle one energetic little girl.”
Relief spread across his face.
“I honestly don’t even know where my passport is anymore.”
She smiled.
“Then you’d better start looking.”
Evening settled gently over the neighborhood after his mother left.
Hana had fallen asleep early, exhausted after spending the afternoon chasing her grandmother through the house.
The apartment grew quiet once again.
Jungkook climbed the stairs toward the small study.
A cabinet stood against the far wall.
Inside rested years of documents he had postponed organizing.
He unlocked the drawer.
Passports.
Birth certificates.
Insurance policies.
Mortgage papers.
Tax records.
Everything important had been gathered there long ago.
He searched through one folder after another.
Finally, he found his passport tucked beneath an old travel wallet.
“There you are.”
He smiled to himself.
As he reached to close the drawer, another folder shifted sideways.
A stack of bank statements slid onto the floor.
With a sigh, he knelt to gather them.
One page caught his attention.
The same amount.
The same date.
Every month.
His eyes drifted toward the recipient.
Dr. Lee Psychological Counseling Center.
He frowned.
Another statement.
The same payment.
Another.
Again.
Again.
Nearly two years.
The passport remained forgotten on the desk.
Outside, the first drops of rain tapped softly against the window.
Jungkook stared at the pages resting in his hands.
“…Therapy?”
The word barely rose above a whisper.
His gaze returned to the statements one more time.
The rain continued to fall.
And somewhere inside the silent house, a question quietly opened that would change everything he believed he knew about Mina.
Chapter 9
A/N: Hi lovelies! I want to apologize for the slower updates lately. I’ve been feeling a little down these past few days, and it’s been taking me longer than usual to write and get back into the right headspace. I’m trying my best, so thank you for being patient with me. Chapter 9 will be posted here on August 16, and for my lovely Ko-fi readers, Chapter 16 will be posted tomorrow. I’m especially sorry about the delay with Chapter 16. I ended up rewriting the entire chapter, which is why it took much longer than I expected. And yes, I see all your comments and asks! I may be a little slow replying right now, but I’m reading everything and will do my best to respond to everyone as soon as I can. Thank you for continuing to support me and my stories, even when I’m a little quiet. Please take care of yourselves, and I’ll see you in the next chapter. 🫶🏻🤍
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i think this update is kinda the same as prev update for halfway. except for the MIL scene & them noticing things abt each other. And I agree with user /@mnikoo (or sumtg like that) ask on earlier chapter, he could be grieving but still dissapointed with the action. The acceptance process is too quick leaving us "that's it?". Now with this chapter seems like the betrayal never happened..? Someone said it's a slow burn, yea too slow for other things but so fast at processing a cheat and move on..? Not like we expecting a full blown screaming bcs she's gone, but atleast a scene where he sat alone, without Hana without yn and him processing that, wrestle with the effect of betrayal & all. And funny thing is he missed her still in this chapter lol. idk what kinda character JK u made anymore. But thanks for the updates.
I understand where you’re coming from. The last few chapters were intentionally quieter because they’re focused on the immediate aftermath and how both of them are simply trying to survive each day.
The betrayal, Jungkook’s anger, and everything he has yet to process aren’t over. They’re just not meant to happen all at once. Those chapters are still coming, and you’ll see him confronting everything in a much deeper way.
Right now, he’s choosing Hana first because she’s the only certainty left in his life. The healing, the anger, and the reckoning are all part of the journey ahead.
Genre: Romance • Angst • Slow Burn • Mutual Pining • Friends to Lovers • Right Person, Wrong Time • Unrequited Love • Found Family • Grief • Heartbreak • Emotional Healing • Jealousy • Comfort • Slice of Life • Family Drama • Single Father • Longing • Betrayal • Healing Romance • Mature
Sypnosis: For fifteen years, Y/N loved the same person in silence. She watched him grow up beside her, watched him fall in love, and watched him build a life that never included her. But when tragedy changes everything, old feelings, buried grief, and painful truths begin to surface, forcing her to confront the love she thought she had long outgrown. Filled with heartbreak, longing, betrayal, and healing, this is the story of two people who meet at the wrong time, lose themselves along the way, and discover that some loves survive even after everything else falls apart.
Six months passed quietly.
Nobody noticed the exact day the house stopped feeling like a place people came to mourn. The funeral flowers had long disappeared. The framed photographs remained where they had always been, but people no longer stood in front of them crying. The sympathy cards had been placed inside drawers. The black clothes returned to closets. The silence that once lived inside every room slowly gave way to other sounds.
Cartoons in the morning. The washing machine running upstairs. Hana singing songs she barely remembered. Jungkook attending meetings behind his office door.
Life had not returned to what it used to be. It had simply become something else.
Most mornings began the same way. Sunlight slipped through the curtains while Hana climbed onto her father’s bed before seven o’clock because she hated waking up alone. Jungkook usually carried her downstairs with her hair sticking in every direction while she rested her cheek against his shoulder.
The kitchen had become his territory again. Mina’s years of traveling for work had taught him how to cook, clean, and manage a home long before grief forced him to become both parents. He prepared breakfast while Hana sat on the counter swinging her legs, asking endless questions about everything she saw. Why eggs are yellow. Why birds fly. Why people sleep. Why clouds move. Questions only a two year old could consider important.
Some mornings you arrived carrying bread from the bakery near your office. Other days you came after work. Occasionally weekends disappeared so naturally that nobody realized how late it had become until Hana fell asleep against your shoulder during movies.
Nobody discussed schedules anymore. Nobody asked permission. The three of you simply moved around each other as though life had quietly arranged itself while nobody was paying attention.
Jungkook worked upstairs for most of the day. His company had allowed him to continue remotely as a senior software engineer and solutions architect. Sometimes his voice drifted down the hallway during meetings with clients overseas. Sometimes Hana pushed his office door open and climbed into his lap during calls.
His coworkers already knew her. They knew the little girl who liked stealing his headset. They knew the tiny voice that occasionally announced, “My daddy working.”
The first weeks had been difficult. Now he worked again. He shaved regularly. His hair had been cut. The shadows beneath his eyes slowly faded. He exercised in the evenings while Hana counted his repetitions incorrectly. Some days he even laughed. The sound still surprised everyone, including himself.
On Saturdays the three of you visited the park. Hana loved feeding birds even though most of the bread ended up on her clothes. She chased bubbles. Collected leaves. Pointed excitedly at every dog she saw. She insisted on holding both your hand and Jungkook’s at the same time because she disliked choosing.
The world around her still felt simple. There was no affair, no betrayal, no DNA results, no dead mother. There was only today. And perhaps that became the greatest lesson for both of you. Children did not move through grief the way adults did. They remembered differently.
Some evenings Hana still pointed at Mina’s photographs. “Mommy.”
Jungkook would kiss her forehead. “Yes.”
Sometimes she asked where her mother had gone. Sometimes she accepted simple answers. Sometimes she forgot the question entirely because she became distracted by cartoons or toys. Those moments hurt, those moments also healed. Because they proved that love remained even when memory changed.
One afternoon you sat inside a small café with Jimin while rain softly touched the windows. You had not spoken alone in months. He stirred his coffee while watching people walk outside.
You looked down at your cup. “I feel guilty sometimes.”
Jimin raised an eyebrow. “About what?”
You hesitated. “It feels wrong that everyone’s smiling again.”
Jimin became quiet. For several moments only the sound of the café surrounded both of you. Finally he spoke. “You know what I think?”
You looked at him.
“I think Mina would be angry if all of us stopped living.”
You smiled faintly. “You really believe that?”
He nodded. “She loved Hana more than anything.”
Jimin leaned back in his chair. “And if there was one person she’d trust with Hana, it’d be you.”
You looked away. “I don’t know.”
“I do.” His voice became softer. “You’ve been protecting people your entire life. You protected her too.”
Tears threatened to appear. You blinked them away.
When you arrived at Jungkook’s house later that evening, Hana immediately ran toward the door. She wrapped her arms around your legs. “You late.”
You crouched and kissed her hair “I had work.”
She frowned. “No work.”
Jungkook looked up from the kitchen. “Apparently your career is over.”
Dinner that night was simple, rice, soup, and grilled fish. The television hummed softly in the background as Hana happily chattered about every drawing she had made that day, proudly showing each one. Jungkook listened. You listened.
The conversation moved easily. No one mentioned the accident. No one mentioned the hospital. No one mentioned the affair.
Mina still existed. Her photograph remained in the living room. Her clothes still occupied part of the closet. Her favorite cup still sat inside the kitchen cabinet. But grief no longer stood at the center of every conversation. Instead, it settled quietly beside them, always present, always loved, always missed. The pain hadn’t disappeared. It had simply changed shape.
Later that evening Hana sat between both of you on the floor while coloring. She handed you a yellow crayon, she gave Jungkook a blue one, then she announced, “Family.”
You looked at each other, neither of you saying a word. Hana quietly drew three stick figures—one tall, one slightly smaller, and one tiny.
She pointed proudly, “Daddy.”
She pointed at the second figure. “Y/N.”
Then herself.
That night, after you had gone home, Jungkook carried Hana to bed. She was half asleep against his shoulder. Her tiny fingers played with his shirt. “Daddy.”
“Hm?”
“Y/N tomorrow?”
He looked at her. The room was dark except for the small nightlight beside her bed. He tucked the blanket around her. “Maybe.”
She nodded sleepily. “Okay.”
Downstairs the house remained warm. The dishes waited in the sink. Hana’s toys covered the floor. Your forgotten hair tie rested beside the couch. Life had entered the home so quietly that none of them had noticed when it arrived. And somewhere inside that ordinary evening, without anyone realizing it, healing had already begun.
Rain began before sunrise. The sound arrived softly against the windows and continued throughout the morning, covering the entire neighborhood beneath a gray sky that made the world outside appear distant and slow. Water traveled down the glass in narrow streams while tree branches moved gently beneath the wind. The streets emptied. The park remained deserted. Even the small convenience store near the entrance of the subdivision seemed quieter.
Inside Jungkook’s house, the lights remained warm. The smell of coffee drifted through the kitchen.
Hana stood in the middle of the living room wearing yellow pajamas covered with tiny ducks, holding a blanket almost larger than herself. “Daddy.”
Jungkook looked up from the stove. “What happened?”
She raised the blanket proudly. “House.”
You had arrived less than an hour earlier carrying bread, strawberries, and hot chocolate mix because rainy days somehow demanded certain foods. Your umbrella still rested beside the front door while soft music played quietly from the speakers in the kitchen.
Jungkook glanced toward you. “I think we’ve been assigned construction work.”
Hana nodded seriously. “Big house.”
She pointed toward the couch. There was no escaping the assignment.
For nearly an hour the three of you transformed the living room into something only children could truly understand. Dining chairs became walls. Blankets became roofs. Pillows became mountains. Fairy lights from a storage box appeared. Hana insisted every stuffed animal needed its own place inside.
Jungkook crawled beneath the blanket ceiling and immediately bumped his head. Hana laughed so loudly she nearly fell over. “You too big.”
You covered your mouth. “She’s not wrong.”
Jungkook looked offended. The laughter that filled the room felt strange at first. Because several months ago it had seemed impossible.
Rain continued falling outside. Inside the blanket fort, Hana distributed crackers and juice boxes while acting as the owner of an imaginary café. She accepted leaves as payment. She charged Jungkook extra for reasons she refused to explain.
By afternoon the living room looked destroyed. Blankets covered the floor. Toys occupied every corner. The three of you sat beneath the fort while Hana watched cartoons between both of you.
She eventually fell asleep against your shoulder. Children always seemed to surrender to sleep suddenly. One moment they were speaking. The next they had already drifted away.
Jungkook carefully adjusted the blanket around her. The television continued playing quietly. Outside, rain struck the windows. Neither of you spoke for several minutes. The silence felt comfortable.
Then Hana suddenly woke, sat upright, and announced, “Pictures.”
A few minutes later several old albums occupied the coffee table. Some belonged to Jungkook. Some belonged to Mina. Others contained years of photographs from the entire group.
Middle school. High school. Birthdays. Graduations. Beach trips. University festivals.
The seven boys appeared everywhere. You and Mina appeared beside them. Time captured inside glossy paper. Hana pointed at every face. She reached one photograph. “Mommy.”
Jungkook gently smiled. “Yes.”
Mina stood beside you in the photograph, both of you wearing school uniforms and laughing at something outside the frame. Hana touched the image. Then turned the page.
As the afternoon passed, stories began filling the room. You told Hana about Namjoon getting lost during a school trip. Jungkook described Hoseok falling into a swimming pool. You laughed about Taehyung getting suspended for climbing onto the school roof. Jungkook spoke about Jimin dancing at every talent show.
The years returned one photograph at a time. Then Jungkook paused. His fingers remained against an old picture. It had been taken during Jimin’s birthday. Everyone looked younger.
The living room inside Jimin’s house. Decorations, food, music, the boys crowded together.
You stood near the edge of the frame. He stared longer than expected. Something shifted quietly inside his memory.
That night, he remembered that night. The room, Jimin’s bedroom. He looked up from the photograph. You had become very still.
Rain continued outside. Hana slept beside you. The room suddenly felt smaller. “Do you remember this?”
Your eyes moved toward the photograph. You smiled faintly. “Jimin’s birthday.”
“You told me you wanted to say something.”
Your fingers paused against the edge of the album. Several years seemed to pass quietly between both of you. You had imagined this moment before, hundreds of times, perhaps thousands. And now that it had arrived, it no longer belonged to the person you used to be.
You looked down. The photograph had captured all of you smiling. Nobody inside the picture knew what would happen. Nobody knew who would fall in love, who would marry, who would die, who would wait.
You finally spoke. “I don’t remember.”
Jungkook frowned slightly. “You looked serious.”
You smiled. “Maybe it wasn’t important.”
The lie came gently. Because the truth no longer belonged to that rainy afternoon. The truth belonged to a sixteen year old girl. An eighteen year old girl. A college student. Someone who had loved quietly for too many years.
Jungkook studied your expression. Part of him felt there had been something, something unfinished. But the memory itself remained incomplete. After a moment he nodded. “Maybe.”
You looked toward Hana sleeping beside you. “We were young.”
His eyes returned to the photograph. “We were.”
The conversation ended there. But something remained. A tiny thread connecting the present to a forgotten evening years ago.
That night, after Hana had been placed in bed and the blankets had been folded away, you stood near the front door preparing to leave.
The rain had stopped. The neighborhood had become quiet. Jungkook walked you outside. The wet pavement reflected the streetlights. For several seconds neither of you spoke. Finally he said, “It’s strange.”
“What is?”
“Looking at old pictures.”
You smiled. “They make everyone feel old.”
He shook his head. “No.”
He looked toward the dark street. “I realized how much time passed.”
You followed his gaze. The silence between both of you no longer felt awkward, only thoughtful. As if both of you had started looking backward for different reasons.
You eventually smiled. “Go inside. It’s cold.”
You walked toward your car. He remained standing near the entrance. The distance between you slowly grew.
But before you entered your car, you looked back. Jungkook still stood there. The porch light illuminated his face.
For a moment he looked very much like the boy from those photographs. The boy you once planned to confess to. The boy who never heard your words. The boy who walked away and built another life. You smiled, he smiled back. Then both of you turned away.
Inside the house, Hana slept peacefully. Outside, the rain had finally stopped. And somewhere inside Jungkook’s mind, an old memory continued waiting.
A sentence left unfinished. A conversation interrupted. Questions that had slept for years had quietly begun opening their eyes.
The aquarium was Hana’s idea. She had seen a whale on television during breakfast and spent the next thirty minutes asking whether fish slept, whether sharks had mothers, and whether penguins wore clothes because they were cold.
Jungkook eventually looked at you across the kitchen. “You free this weekend?”
You glanced up from cutting fruit. “Why?”
He nodded toward Hana. “I think we’re being ordered.”
Hana immediately raised both hands. “Fish.”
And somehow that became enough.
The drive felt easy. Hana sat in her car seat singing songs she only partly remembered. Jungkook drove. You watched the city pass outside.
Traffic moved slowly beneath the afternoon sun. Families crossed streets carrying shopping bags. Children held balloons outside restaurants. Life continued everywhere, indifferent to tragedy.
The aquarium was crowded. Children ran toward glass walls while blue light reflected against ceilings and floors. Water moved above visitors’ heads. Schools of fish drifted through enormous tanks.
Hana completely forgot both adults existed. She ran from one exhibit to another while Jungkook followed behind carrying her bag.
“Slow down.”
“No.”
“Hana.”
“No.”
You laughed. Jungkook looked exhausted already. “I think she’s winning.”
“She’s been winning for two years.”
You took photographs. Hana pressing both hands against the glass. Jungkook lifting her high enough to see stingrays. The two of them making faces at seals.
The light inside the aquarium softened everything. It made the world appear quieter than it truly was. At one exhibit Hana reached for Jungkook’s hand. With her other hand she reached for yours. Neither of you reacted. The three of you simply walked.
People passed, children laughed, water moved behind thick glass. For several seconds the world felt strangely complete.
An unfamiliar woman offered to take your photograph. The three of you stood beneath the largest tank. Hana between you. Jungkook looking down at his daughter. You looking toward both of them.
Several meters away one of your coworkers lowered her phone after recognizing you. She quietly took another picture. Stories began forming inside someone else’s mind. You remained unaware.
Hours later Hana finally became tired. She had walked until her tiny legs could no longer keep up. She climbed into Jungkook’s arms. Within minutes she fell asleep. Her head rested against his shoulder. Her fingers held his shirt. You stopped walking. The sight caught you unexpectedly.
Jungkook looked different now. His face no longer carried the constant exhaustion that had followed him after the funeral. The sadness remained, but it no longer consumed him.
You quietly lifted your phone. He looked toward you. The camera captured him holding Hana beneath blue light. For a moment the world became still.
When the photograph appeared on your screen, something inside you shifted. You had loved Jungkook for so many years that sometimes you forgot to simply look at him.
The boy from middle school had disappeared. The man standing before you was a father. A man who had lost almost everything. A man trying to rebuild his life one ordinary day at a time.
And perhaps that frightened you more. Because for the first time in years your heart no longer loved a memory. It loved the person standing in front of you.
The drive home remained quiet. Hana slept, the sunlight faded. You scrolled through photographs. Jungkook occasionally glanced toward you. “What?”
You smiled. “You made fish faces.”
He sighed. “I was entertaining my daughter.”
“You looked ridiculous.”
You laughed. The sound filled the car. Jungkook found himself listening, not the words, the laugh itself. He realized he had not heard it often enough over the years. Perhaps because he had never paid attention.
That evening, after Hana had fallen asleep, after you had gone home, after the dishes had been washed and the lights turned off, Jungkook sat alone in the living room. The photographs glowed softly on his phone. He stopped at the one beneath the aquarium tank. His daughter, you, him.
His eyes slowly moved toward your face. You looked happy. He looked happy too. For several minutes he stared at the picture.
He remembered the funeral, the hospital, the police station, the DNA results, the betrayal, the anger. He remembered believing his life had ended. Yet here he was at an aquarium, holding his daughter, smiling.
Because someone had remained beside him through all of it. You.
He suddenly thought about the past. How often had you been there?
Middle school. Birthdays. Graduation. University. Wedding. The hospital after Hana’s birth. The funeral.
Every photograph seemed to contain you somewhere. He wondered why he had never noticed.
Upstairs Hana slept peacefully. Downstairs the house remained warm. Your forgotten hair tie still rested beside the sofa. Your mug sat beside the sink. Evidence that you had become part of their ordinary days.
Jungkook looked once more at the photograph. For the first time he allowed himself to ask a question he had avoided for months. What would his life have looked like if you had not been there?
The answer frightened him. Because he realized he did not want to imagine it.
The first day you did not come felt ordinary. At least that was what Jungkook told himself. You sent your message shortly after seven in the morning while he stood in the kitchen preparing Hana’s breakfast.
Deadline today. I might stay late. Don’t wait for me.
The message seemed harmless. Work happened. People became busy. Life could not stop simply because grief had entered it months ago.
He replied while turning off the stove. Take your time.
Hana sat on the kitchen counter wearing pajamas decorated with strawberries. One sock was pink and the other yellow because she had decided matching socks were boring. She ate pieces of banana while swinging her legs beneath the counter.
The kitchen smelled of eggs, rice, and coffee. Sunlight spilled through the windows. Jungkook carried breakfast to the table while Hana looked toward the empty chair beside hers. “Y/N?”
“Working.”
She thought about that. “When she come?”
“I’m not sure.”
The morning passed quietly. Jungkook attended meetings upstairs while Hana colored beside him on the floor. Every so often she showed him drawings that resembled circles more than animals.
At lunchtime she asked again. At snack time. After her nap. While watching cartoons. “Y/N coming?”
Every answer became the same. “I don’t know.”
By evening the house had become strangely silent. The television still played softly. The dishwasher still ran. Hana still scattered toys across the living room. Jungkook still cooked dinner. Yet something inside the routine had shifted.
At six o’clock Hana placed three spoons on the table, he removed one. She placed it back. “Y/N.”
His hand stopped. He looked at the small spoon resting beside your empty seat. For several seconds neither of them spoke. Then he quietly left it there.
Dinner tasted normal. The conversation did not. Hana spoke less. She kept glancing toward the front door whenever headlights passed outside. When bedtime arrived, she carried her stuffed rabbit into his bedroom. “Daddy.”
“Hm?”
“Miss Y/N.”
The words were spoken so honestly that they almost hurt. Jungkook pulled her closer beneath the blankets. “I know.”
She fell asleep holding his hand. He remained beside her long after her breathing became steady. The hallway outside felt unusually quiet. The kitchen felt larger. The living room emptier. Your slippers still rested near the shoe cabinet. Your tea sat inside the pantry. Small pieces of a person slowly becoming part of another person’s life.
He sat alone in the dining room. The clock read almost ten. His phone vibrated.
Finally finished. I think my brain died.
He smiled. Hana asked for you all day.
Three dots appeared. Really?
She missed you.
Several seconds passed. I missed her too.
He stared at the message. His eyes lifted toward the dark living room. Toward the empty chair. Toward the silence. He finally typed. The house was quieter.
The reply came after nearly a minute.
I’ll come tomorrow morning.
He set his phone aside. Sleep came late that night. And when it finally found him, it brought only ordinary dreams, breakfast shared across the table, soft laughter filling the house, and a woman standing quietly in his kitchen.
You woke before your alarm. The previous day had left your body exhausted. Your shoulders ached. Your eyes burned. The apartment felt strangely lonely.
For months your life had developed a routine you never intended. Work. Groceries. Hana. Dinner. Movies. Weekends. You had not realized how much your days revolved around them until one evening without them left your apartment feeling too quiet.
You stood beneath the shower longer than necessary. Warm water fell against your skin while steam covered the mirror.
You closed your eyes. Your thoughts wandered. Hana asking for stories. Jungkook sending photographs of breakfast. Movie nights. The aquarium. His laughter returning little by little. The way grief had slowly stopped living inside his eyes. You opened your eyes immediately.
You had spent years teaching yourself how to move on. You had survived watching him marry someone else. You had stood beside him at his wedding. You had carried his daughter. You had buried your own feelings years ago. You would not become that woman. The one waiting, the one hoping.
You finished getting ready. Simple clothes. Minimal makeup. Hair still slightly damp. You bought fresh bread and coffee from the bakery near your apartment.
The morning air felt cool. The city had not fully awakened. You arrived outside Jungkook’s house shortly after eight.
You pressed the doorbell. Footsteps approached. The door opened. And every thought inside your head disappeared.
Jungkook stood in front of you wearing only black sweatpants. His breathing remained uneven. His hair was damp with sweat. The morning sunlight entered through the windows behind him, illuminating his skin and the dark tattoos that traveled down his arm and disappeared across his shoulder.
You had seen his tattoos before. Photographs. Summer outings. Short sleeves. Years of friendship. But this felt different.
There was something deeply intimate about standing inside someone’s doorway early in the morning while they still carried traces of sleep and exercise.
He looked healthier now. His face had regained color. His shoulders had become broader after weeks of exercising again. The sadness that had once consumed him had softened into something quieter. He looked alive. And perhaps that was what affected you most.
The boy you once loved had become a man. A father. Someone else’s husband. A widower. And now he stood before you looking more like himself than he had in years.
Jungkook suddenly realized you had gone completely silent. He looked down, then laughed softly. “Sorry. I just finished working out.”
Your throat felt dry. “No. It’s okay.”
His eyes remained on you for a moment longer than necessary. You quickly looked away.
He stepped aside. “Hana’s sleeping.”
You entered. The familiar scent of coffee and laundry surrounded you. The kitchen windows stood open. Sunlight stretched across the floor. The house still carried traces of the morning.
His water bottle sat on the counter. A towel rested around his neck. The room felt warm. Jungkook walked toward the refrigerator.
You tried very hard not to look. Your sixteen-year-old self would have been impossible to control. She would have written poems about this. She would have replayed this moment for years.
Your thirty-year-old self knew better. Yet your eyes still betrayed you. The tattoos. The muscles returning after months of grief. The water droplets moving down his neck. The familiarity of him somehow making everything worse.
Because strangers were easy to admire. Jungkook was not a stranger. He had been part of your life for over a decade. He turned around. His eyes found yours. “You look tired.”
You blinked. “I am.”
“You still came.”
“Hana would be upset.”
His expression softened. “So would I.”
The words escaped naturally. The silence afterward felt enormous. You looked down at the coffee. Jungkook suddenly became aware of how close you stood.
The scent of your shampoo. The tiredness beneath your eyes. The fact that you came here first thing in the morning despite working late.
Months ago he had looked at you and seen safety. Family. Friendship. Now something else quietly appeared. Something he immediately pushed aside.
Upstairs, tiny footsteps suddenly echoed through the hallway. “Daddy?”
A sleepy voice followed. Then another. “Y/N?”
Hana appeared wearing pink pajamas, her hair standing in every direction. The moment she saw you, her entire face brightened. “You came.”
She ran directly into your arms. You laughed and held her tightly. Jungkook watched the two of you standing inside the kitchen.
A sleepy child. A woman who had become part of every day. And for the first time in years, Jungkook wondered whether he had been looking in the wrong direction all along.
Hana would turn three in two months. She had become increasingly talkative, although many of her sentences still came out incomplete. She liked rabbits, strawberries, cartoons, and crayons. She insisted that every stuffed animal should eat dinner with the family. She carried her blanket everywhere. She had also reached the stage where she constantly asked questions about everything. Why rain happened. Why Y/N sometimes went home.
That Sunday morning felt especially peaceful. Jungkook stood in the kitchen making pancakes while soft music played from his phone. You sat beside Hana at the dining table cutting strawberries while she attacked a coloring book with an impressive amount of determination.
The sunlight entering the kitchen painted everything gold. Hana suddenly climbed down from her chair carrying a sheet of paper. “Daddy.”
Jungkook crouched beside her. “What did you make?”
The drawing looked exactly like something created by a two year old child. The figures were uneven circles with lines for arms and legs. The sky was purple. Grass appeared blue. One person had yellow hair even though nobody in the room had yellow hair. Jungkook smiled. “Who’s this?”
“Hana.”
“And this?”
“Daddy.”
Then Hana pointed toward the third figure. “Y/N.”
You looked up from the table. The room became quiet for only a moment. Children drew people they loved. Teachers. Grandparents. Friends. It should not have meant anything.
Hana proudly pointed at all three figures. “Home.”
Jungkook stared at the drawing. Perhaps because it looked so simple. Perhaps because children reduced life to what mattered most. The people who stayed. The people who came back. The people who sat beside them during breakfast.
He eventually walked toward the refrigerator and attached the drawing beside older pictures and grocery lists. The paper remained there. Nobody spoke about it. Yet throughout the morning your eyes occasionally found it. Three people standing beneath a crooked purple sun.
The doorbell rang shortly before lunch. Jungkook wiped his hands. “I think it’s her.”
Mina’s mother had called the previous evening. She wanted to see Hana. You immediately felt yourself sit straighter.
Her visits had become less frequent. Perhaps because the house had changed. Perhaps because grief changed people. When she entered, Hana immediately ran into her arms. “Grandma.”
For a few minutes everything felt normal. Tea was served. Fruit was cut. Conversations remained polite.
She asked about Hana’s appetite. Her sleeping habits. Her speech. She asked Jungkook about work. He explained that he had permanently switched to remote work because he wanted to remain with Hana.
She nodded. You mostly remained quiet. You had known her for years. She had watched you and Mina grow up together. You once called her Aunt. But things changed after funerals. People became strangers inside grief.
She eventually stood and walked into the kitchen. You were helping Hana build blocks in the living room when the silence arrived. The kind of silence people immediately notice.
Her eyes rested on the refrigerator. On the drawing. Hana happily ran toward her. “Mine.”
The older woman looked at the paper. Her hand gently touched the corner. She pointed toward the figures. “Hana?”
The little girl nodded. “Daddy.”
Another nod. Then the yellow figure. “Y/N.”
Something inside the room shifted.
“My daughter has only been gone six months.”
Her voice was quiet. Yet the words settled heavily upon your shoulders.
Jungkook slowly stood. “Hana likes drawing.”
She nodded. Her eyes never left the paper. “When Mina was little she used to draw our family too.”
The silence stretched. You suddenly wished you had gone home earlier. You wished the drawing had never existed. You wished grief came with instructions.
Mina’s mother eventually looked toward you. Her eyes appeared exhausted. “You’ve always been kind.”
You didn’t answer. She continued softly. “You took care of Mina.”
You nodded. “You take care of Hana now.”
Your fingers tightened against your lap.
Then she smiled. A tired smile. One that somehow hurt more. “You always know your place.”
Jungkook looked toward her. The words sounded harmless. But you understood. Perhaps only you understood. She continued quietly. “Mina trusted you because she knew you would never cross lines.”
Nobody spoke. Because grief often hid itself inside polite sentences. Because sometimes people did not need to accuse. Sometimes they only reminded.
You lowered your eyes. The older woman looked toward Hana. “You’re important to her.”
You nodded. “She loves you.”
Your throat tightened.
“And children become attached very easily.”
Jungkook finally spoke. “Mom.”
His voice remained respectful. She looked at him.
He continued quietly. “Y/N has helped us.”
She smiled sadly. “I know.”
Then she looked toward him. “You still have your life.”
The sentence landed differently. Because perhaps she did not realize what she had said. Or perhaps she did.
Jungkook lost his wife. She lost her daughter. Both carried grief. But only one of them still had years ahead. Only one still had a child laughing upstairs. Only one could move forward. That reality felt cruel.
Lunch became quieter afterward. Conversations stayed safe. Hana remained happily unaware of the heaviness surrounding the adults.
When Mina’s mother finally prepared to leave, she stood beside you near the entrance. Her eyes had become red. She looked tired, older, smaller somehow. “I know my daughter loved you.”
You nodded. “I loved her too.”
She smiled faintly. Her fingers gently squeezed yours. “I hope you continue loving Hana.”
Your eyes softened. “I will.”
She looked toward the living room. Toward Jungkook. Toward the house. Toward the drawing.“But sometimes people forget where grief still lives.”
Your chest suddenly felt heavy. Because you understood exactly what she meant. She wasn’t telling you to leave. She wasn’t blaming you. She was reminding you.
Mina still existed here. Mina was still someone’s daughter. Someone’s child. Someone still being mourned.
The front door eventually closed. The house became quiet again. Hana returned to her toys. Jungkook carried dishes into the kitchen.
You stood alone near the entrance. For several moments you could still hear her words.
You always know your place.
The sentence followed you. Because she was right. You had always known your place. The best friend. The aunt. The person who stayed. The person who loved quietly. The person who never asked for anything.
The drawing still remained on the refrigerator. Three figures beneath a purple sun. A child’s understanding of love. An adult’s understanding of loss.
That afternoon you left earlier than usual. Jungkook noticed, but he said nothing. Because he thought you were tired.
He did not know that the first crack had finally appeared. Not between you. Not between him and Hana. But inside your own heart.
Because for the first time since Mina died, somebody had reminded you that no matter how much this house felt like home, it was never truly yours.
Rain had followed the city since morning.
It was still falling when you left work.
The roads were covered in reflections. Headlights stretched across wet pavement. People hurried beneath umbrellas while traffic crawled through the evening. The entire city seemed quieter during rainy days, as though everyone unconsciously lowered their voices.
You had spent the entire afternoon distracted.
Mina’s mother’s visit continued to linger inside your thoughts.
You always know your place.
For several nights you had repeated those words to yourself.
While washing dishes.
While lying awake.
While sitting alone during lunch.
Your phone vibrated.
Jungkook: Hana keeps asking where you are.
A second message followed.
She drew another rabbit.
You smiled despite yourself.
I have soup. I’ll come for a little while.
You told yourself it would only be dinner.
Nothing more.
The familiar porch light greeted you when you arrived.
Warm yellow light spilled onto the wet driveway.
The house no longer looked like a place of mourning.
Flowers sat beside the entrance.
Hana’s rain boots rested near the door.
A small pink umbrella leaned against the wall.
Tiny signs that life had quietly returned.
The front door opened before you could knock.
Hana ran toward you immediately.
“Y/N!”
She crashed into your legs with all the force a two year old could manage.
You laughed and crouched down.
“Someone missed me.”
She nodded seriously.
“Me.”
Behind her, Jungkook smiled.
He had finished exercising not long before. His hair remained damp from his shower. He wore a black shirt and gray sweatpants. The exhaustion that had once lived permanently beneath his eyes had softened over recent months.
He looked healthy again.
Alive.
The realization unsettled you.
Because six months ago, you had only prayed he would survive.
Now you noticed smaller things.
His smile.
His voice.
The way he carried Hana against his shoulder.
The way he laughed.
Feelings you had buried years ago had begun quietly breathing again.
And that frightened you more than grief ever had.
Dinner felt ordinary.
Perhaps that was why it hurt.
Jungkook prepared kimchi stew while you cut vegetables at the kitchen counter. Hana sat nearby coloring another collection of rabbits, suns, and oddly shaped flowers.
Rain tapped against the windows.
Music played softly from the speaker.
At one point Hana insisted everyone wear paper crowns she had made from construction paper.
Jungkook wore his without complaint.
You wore yours too.
Hana laughed so hard she nearly spilled her juice.
The sound filled the kitchen.
For a moment none of you carried grief.
For a moment there were only three people sharing dinner while rain fell outside.
The dangerous thing about healing was that it happened quietly.
Nobody noticed when suffering became manageable.
Nobody noticed when laughter returned.
Nobody noticed when home stopped feeling empty.
After dinner Hana grew sleepy quickly.
The weather always made her tired.
She climbed onto Jungkook’s lap.
“Daddy.”
He brushed her hair away from her forehead.
“Tired?”
She nodded.
He carried her upstairs while she rested her head against his shoulder.
You remained alone in the kitchen.
You washed dishes.
Dried glasses.
Folded the dish towel.
Simple things.
The sort of tasks married couples performed every night without thinking.
The realization suddenly made your chest ache.
Several minutes later Jungkook returned.
“She fell asleep before I finished the story.”
You smiled.
“She played hard today.”
He leaned against the counter.
For several seconds neither of you spoke.
The house had become unusually quiet.
Rain continued outside.
The clock above the refrigerator ticked softly.
Jungkook made tea.
You sat together in the living room.
The lamp beside the couch provided the only light.
Outside, water ran down the windows.
The entire world seemed smaller.
Jungkook stared into his cup.
“My mother called earlier.”
You looked up.
“How is she?”
“She’s worried about me.”
You nodded.
“Parents always are.”
He continued quietly.
“For a long time I thought moving forward meant forgetting.”
Your hands rested around your tea.
“But now?”
He looked toward the dark window.
“I think moving forward just means carrying everything with you.”
You listened.
Because grief had taught both of you languages nobody wanted to learn.
“I still miss her.”
His voice became softer.
“Every day.”
You nodded.
“I know.”
“But some days I laugh now.”
He smiled faintly.
“Hana laughs.”
He looked around the room.
“The house doesn’t feel so empty anymore.”
You lowered your eyes.
Because you understood what he wasn’t saying.
You existed inside those changes.
And perhaps both of you had become afraid to acknowledge it.
The silence lengthened.
Rain fell harder outside.
Jungkook looked toward you.
His expression seemed tired.
Honest.
There was no sudden realization.
Only two people sitting beside one another after months of surviving together.
Your eyes met.
Neither of you looked away immediately.
The world became very quiet.
You could hear the rain.
The clock.
The distant hum of the refrigerator.
Jungkook shifted slightly.
The space between you had somehow disappeared.
You suddenly remembered Mina laughing during high school.
Mina crying after exams.
Mina asking if her dress looked pretty.
Mina holding Hana.
Mina standing beside Jungkook during their wedding.
Mina’s mother standing beside the refrigerator.
You always know your place.
The words struck you with terrible clarity.
You stood.
Too quickly.
The tea nearly spilled.
Jungkook looked surprised.
You couldn’t breathe properly.
“I should go.”
“It’s raining.”
“I know.”
“You can stay until it stops.”
You shook your head.
“I need to leave.”
Confusion crossed his face.
You collected your bag.
Your fingers trembled.
He walked you toward the front door.
The rain had become heavier.
The porch light illuminated thousands of falling drops.
Jungkook reached for the umbrella.
“I’ll walk you.”
“No.”
He looked at you.
The silence between you suddenly carried too much.
You forced a small smile.
“I’ll be okay.”
For several seconds neither of you moved.
His eyes searched your face.
Perhaps he wanted to ask what was wrong.
Perhaps he didn’t know how.
You opened the door.
Cold air entered the house.
“Goodnight.”
His voice remained quiet.
“Goodnight.”
You walked through the rain.
You did not use the umbrella.
By the time you entered your car your clothes had become damp.
The windshield blurred beneath falling water.
You gripped the steering wheel.
The tears came almost immediately.
You covered your face.
“I’m sorry.”
Your voice broke.
The empty car offered no answer.
“I’m sorry, Mina.”
Rain struck the roof.
You remembered being sixteen.
Writing a letter that never got delivered.
Watching Mina date him.
Standing beside them during college.
Attending their wedding.
Holding Hana after she was born.
Standing beside her coffin.
Everything.
Years.
Entire years.
You cried quietly.
Because loving someone for so long taught you how to survive disappointment.
But it never truly taught you how to stop loving them.
“I never wanted this.”
Your words disappeared into the darkness.
You wiped your face.
You finally understood what you had to do.
You would step back before anyone could misunderstand.
Before the whispers became louder.
Before your heart forgot its place.
You would protect Jungkook.
Protect Hana.
Protect Mina’s memory.
And somehow, protect yourself too.
It was the right decision.
It also felt like losing him all over again.
Back inside the house, Jungkook remained standing near the front window.
He watched your car disappear.
The living room felt strangely quiet.
He looked toward the empty teacup beside yours.
Toward the blanket folded over the couch.
Toward the hallway where your shoes had stood countless times.
Upstairs, Hana slept peacefully.
The rain continued.
And for reasons he could not yet explain, the house suddenly felt a little emptier.
Chapter 8
A/N: Hi, lovelies! I’m so sorry for the late update. I was busy earlier, but thank you so much for reading ! Chapter 8 will be posted on August 8. For my Ko-fi readers: Chapter 15 is already up! We’re getting closer to the end, and I can’t wait to share the rest of the story with you. Thank you, as always, for your love and support.
Hi, lovelies! Just a little update! I’m currently editing Chapter 7 of The One Who Stayed. I’m hoping I can finish editing it today so I can post it later. If I don’t manage to finish, it’ll definitely be up tomorrow at 8:00 PM (PH time). For my Ko-fi readers, Chapter 15 is already available, so if you’d like to read ahead, you can find it there. ☺️
Omg yes please, I would love to see a little teaser for your next Jin story 🥹 I’m so excited!
“Promise you’ll come?”
You smiled.
“When have I ever broken a promise?”
Seokjin laughed, slipping the tiny silver ring deeper into his pocket.
“I’ll see you after the fireworks.”
“I’ll be there.”
That autumn night in 1978, Kim Seokjin stood beneath the old maple tree with a small velvet box tucked safely inside his coat pocket and a future he was finally brave enough to ask for.
He waited through the fireworks.
Through the music.
Through the laughter of people finding their way back to the ones they loved.
Every time footsteps echoed behind him, his heart whispered your name.
Every time…
It wasn’t you.
When the final lantern was lowered and the festival disappeared into silence, he opened the velvet box just once.
The ring caught the last light of autumn.
With trembling hands, he closed it again.
You never came.
And every autumn that followed, he found himself beneath that same maple tree…
Waiting for a promise that was never meant to be broken.
I wanted to leave this here because I think it's something every writer deserves to hear from time to time. Writing is such a vulnerable thing. Every chapter is a little piece of yourself that you choose to share with strangers, hoping they'll laugh where you laughed, cry where you cried, and feel what you felt while creating it. That kind of courage should never be taken for granted. Stories aren't meant to be comfortable every step of the way. Sometimes they frustrate us, break our hearts, surprise us, or make us question the characters we love. That's part of what makes them memorable. If every chapter gave us exactly what we wanted, there would be no suspense, no growth, and no reason to keep reading them. What I've always admired about your writing is that you don't just write moments you write people. They're imperfect, emotional, messy, and beautifully human. That's why I became attached to them in the first place. So I hope you don't measure your worth by one chapter or by the loudest reactions. Please don't lose confidence in yourself or in your vision. Trust the story you're telling and thank you for sharing your imagination with us. No matter what, I'll be here, excited for the next chapter and grateful that you chose to tell this story. 🤍
I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much! I think every writer has moments where they start questioning themselves, and this happened to be one of those moments for me. Thank you for always grounding me, encouraging me, and reminding me why I write in the first place. I don’t think you realize how much your words help me whenever I start overthinking everything. I’m really grateful to have you in my corner. 🤍
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Years ago, BTS gave us the message of Love Yourself: your worth does not come from someone else’s approval. And today, BTS reminded me of that message again. Walking away from something you once dreamed of is not failure. It is courage. It is knowing that your dignity, your values, and your self-respect matter more than a moment of recognition. Thank you, BTS, for showing us that loving yourself also means standing up for yourself. I don’t think I could be any prouder. 💜
The way I can write 20k-word chapters but somehow can’t organize a masterlist… make it make sense. 😭 If anyone knows how to make it look nice, please save me.
