You met Jimin when you were 23, at the highlight of his career. The same night you broke off your engagement to a man that couldn’t even remember your favorite color. 

You thought you would be sad but you were quite the opposite. You were having the time of your life. You and your friends were lighting up the dance floor. Drinks were flowing and the music was rolling. There was no bad thought that came to your mind. You felt…free. 

You were bouncing between your friends and strangers when you felt eyes burning the back of your head from the VIP section. 

Park Jimin, also 23 then—intoxicating and mysterious. It didn’t take long from the moment your eyes connected for him to make his move. He showered you in a luxury that you didn’t know before. Dates on private islands, daily lunch dates and shopping trips. He once took you to Paris just because you were thinking about having pasta for dinner. He was the perfect example of how you felt a man should court you or any woman for that matter. 

Within a month, despite your friends and families comments, you were married. 

Crazy. Insane even but on the rare occasion, it worked. 

It was a whirlwind, the honeymoon phase that never ended. It felt like it never would. 

You had it all. 

A beautiful life, amazing friends, a handsome husband that was crazy about you. The only thing you both wanted desperately was a child. Jimin would stay up at night, laying on your chest with his hand sprawled on your flat stomach, thinking about how beautiful you would be carrying his child, the one thing he wanted that money couldn’t buy. 

He became obsessed. 

This wasn't an empty obsession. This wasn’t a “Once the baby gets here, you’re going to wish you never had kids.” type of thing. 

You and Jimin are certain that this is what you wanted. You talked about it all the time with your friends. Jimin probably talked about more than you.

He spent countless hours looking up things that you both could do to conceive. He made you put your legs against the wall one time after a long night of making love, there was even a drink that you both drank to ‘enhance’ your chances of conceiving. 

But nothing you did helped. 

Month after month, the negative tests started to pile up. 

Every disappointment hurt worse than the last but Jimin stayed hopeful.

“It’s not our turn yet but soon my love. Soon.” he would say, holding you from being, hiding his face in your neck, seeking comfort from your scent and closeness. “We’re going to be the world’s best parents.”

But today? Today is different. 

~~~~~

The bathroom is quiet. Too quiet.

Morning light filters through the large windows that hang behind the large bath, looking out at the busy city of Seoul below you, pale and soft, barely touching the white tile walls. You sit on the edge of the bathtub, elbows resting on your knees, the small plastic test clutched loosely in your hands.

You almost didn’t take it.

After so many months—so many quiet disappointments—you’d stopped expecting anything different. The routine had become painfully familiar: wake up, take the test, hold your breath… then tuck another negative result into the back of your mind like it never mattered, but Jimin’s hope is the only reason why you took the test today. 

You wanted to be a mother but you had to admit the dream died each time you took a negative test. You were just a few tests away from your dream hitting the back burner. 

So when the timer on your phone goes off, you don’t rush.

You stare at the floor for a moment longer, gathering yourself the way you always do. Preparing for the same hollow feeling.

A small part of you wished that you had waited for Jimin to return home before taking it but that ship has sailed. 

“Okay,” you whisper softly to no one. “Whatever happens, happens.”

Your fingers tighten slightly around the test before you lift it.

And then you freeze.

Your eyes scan the result once.

Twice.

Three times.

Your heart doesn’t react right away—your mind refuses to catch up.

“…No.”

The word leaves your lips as a quiet breath, barely audible.

You lean forward, squinting at the window then the beautiful fixtures like maybe the light is wrong when that’s the furthest from the truth in this beautiful penthouse you and Jimin live in. Maybe you're reading it wrong. Your hands fumble slightly as you reach for the instruction pamphlet sitting on the counter, unfolding it with shaky fingers.

Two lines.

Two lines means—

You look back at the test.

The second line is faint, but it’s there. Clear enough that you can’t pretend it isn’t.

Your chest tightens suddenly.

“No… no, that—that’s not right–”

Your voice breaks off as your breath catches.

Your heart starts beating faster now, a nervous rhythm thudding against your ribs. You flip the test over in your hands, then back again, as if the answer might somehow change if you look at it from another angle.

It doesn’t.

The line is still there.

Your fingers start trembling.

“After all this time…?”

The words come out as a whisper, fragile and uncertain.

You stand up too quickly, pacing the small bathroom once, your thoughts spinning. 

“Take another one, this one has to be wrong..” 

Instinctively, you grab another test from the box under the sink, the last one left, and take it with rushed, clumsy movements.

Then you sit again.

Waiting feels impossible this time. You could hardly hold your composure.

Your leg bounces, your fingers twisting together while the seconds drag by. Your eyes keep drifting back to the first test sitting on the counter like it might disappear if you stop watching it.

Months of memories crowd your mind.

All the negative tests.

All the hopeful mornings that ended in quiet disappointment. All the nights cuddling Jimin and comforting one another may have not been…for nothing?

The times you told yourself not to get your hopes up.

The timer goes off again.

Your stomach flips instantly making you nauseous. 

Slowly—almost fearfully—you reach for the second test.

Your hands shake so badly you almost drop it.

You look down.

And there it is.

Two lines.

Clearer this time. 

Both lines, bold and pink. In your face. 

For a moment, the world goes completely silent.

Your breath leaves you in a shaky exhale as your knees suddenly give out, and you sink down onto the cool bathroom floor without thinking. The tests remain clutched tightly in your hands while you stare at them like they’re something fragile… something unreal.

“I…”

Your throat tightens.

A laugh escapes you first—soft, disbelieving, almost breathless.

Then suddenly your vision blurs.

Tears spill down your cheeks before you can stop them.

“Oh my god…thank you, God”

Your voice cracks as the words finally sink in.

You press a hand over your mouth, shoulders shaking as the reality crashes into you all at once. All the months of trying, hoping, hurting—it all pours out in the form of quiet, overwhelmed sobs.

Your other hand curls protectively around your stomach without you even realizing it.

“Please,” you whisper through the tears, your voice trembling.

“Please stay. Don’t leave us this time..”

The room is still silent, but your heart feels louder than everything.

You sit there on the bathroom floor for a long time, clutching the tests like proof that this moment is real.

Every few seconds your eyes flick back down just to make sure.

Just to see those two lines again.

And again.

And again.

Because after so many times seeing only one… you’re still afraid to believe it.

So almost instantly, you scheduled an appointment, just to be sure as if two tests weren’t enough. 

It’s taking everything out of you not to run and tell Jimin but you vowed to make this special for him too. This was taking a toll on him just as much as it was you. You needed to make sure first before opening up to him…you couldn’t face it if it was a misread or false alarm. 

You had your mind set. As soon as you got the confirmation from the doctors, you were going to set up something special for your husband when he comes home from his trip to Japan. 

~~~~~~~~~

The doctor’s office smells faintly of antiseptic and lavender air freshener.

You’ve been staring at the same spot on the wall for the last five minutes—the framed photo of a newborn wrapped in a pink blanket. The baby’s tiny hand is curled around someone’s finger.

Your leg bounces uncontrollably.

You press your palms together in your lap to stop it, but the nervous energy refuses to settle. Your heart has been racing since the nurse took the blood sample.

It feels ridiculous, almost.

You already saw the tests. Two of them.

But after everything… you needed someone to tell you it was real.

The door opens.

Your head lifts immediately.

The doctor steps in with a small tablet and a small packet in hand, offering you a gentle smile as they sit down on the rolling stool across from you.

You try to read their expression.

You’ve become good at that over the months—searching faces for hints before the words come.

Your fingers twist together.

“Well,” the doctor says softly, glancing at the screen for a moment.

Your stomach drops.

Your heart pounds so loudly you’re sure they can hear it.

“Your results came back.”

Your throat tightens.

You nod quickly, unable to trust your voice.

The doctor looks back up at you.

And smiles.

“The test is positive. Congratulations.”

For a moment… nothing happens.

The words float in the air between you, simple and clear.

Positive.

Congratulations.

Your brain doesn’t catch up right away.

“…I am?” you ask quietly before you can stop yourself.

Your voice sounds small. Fragile.

The doctor’s smile widens a little.

“Yes,” they say gently. “You’re pregnant.”

The room goes completely silent.

Your chest rises with a shaky breath as the meaning finally settles in.

Pregnant.

Not maybe.

Not hopefully.

Not another faint line on a plastic test you’re afraid to trust.

Real.

Your vision blurs suddenly.

“Oh…”

The sound escapes you like the air has been knocked from your lungs.

You press a hand over your mouth as tears immediately fill your eyes.

Your shoulders shake once, twice, before a breathless laugh slips out with the tears.

“I—sorry,” you say quickly, wiping your face even though the tears keep coming. “I just…”

Your voice cracks.

“We’ve been trying for so long. I kind of wish he was here with me to hear this good news. He’s so excited to become a father.”

The doctor’s expression softens with understanding.

“That makes this moment even more special.”

Your hand slowly drifts down to your stomach without thinking.

It’s still the same.

Nothing feels different.

But suddenly your mind can’t stop repeating the same thought.

There’s a baby there.

Your baby.

You swallow hard.

“Everything looks okay… right?” you ask, the fear creeping back in despite the joy.

The doctor nods reassuringly.

“So far, everything looks exactly as it should.”

The tension you didn’t realize you were holding finally releases.

Your shoulders drop slightly as another quiet breath escapes you.

Relief floods through you so suddenly it almost makes you dizzy.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

The words feel too small for what you mean.

You thank them again before the appointment ends, clutching the printed paperwork and appointment card like they’re precious.

Because they are.

The moment you step outside the clinic, the cool air hits your face.

And suddenly it feels real all over again.

You sit in the driver’s seat of your car for a long moment, staring down at the small envelope the nurse handed you.

Inside is the confirmation paperwork.

Proof.

Your fingers rest against your stomach again.

“Hi,” you whisper softly, almost shyly.

The word makes you laugh quietly to yourself.

You wipe the last of your tears before starting the car.

There’s someone else who needs to know.

But not like this.

Not rushed.

Not through a phone call filled with shaky breathing.

Jimin deserves something special.

After everything you’ve both been through… he deserves a moment he’ll never forget.

Later that afternoon, your kitchen table is covered in small things.

A tiny white box.

Soft tissue paper.

And the smallest pair of baby socks you could find at the store.

They’re impossibly tiny. Seeing them in the store for the first time, you thought they were fake. Fighting the urge to buy every single thing available. 

You hold them between your fingers, your chest tightening as emotion creeps up again.

“You’re going to be a dad,” you whisper quietly, imagining Jimin’s face when he realizes.

Your heart flutters at the thought.

You gently place the socks inside the box.

Then you add the pregnancy test—the second one you took that morning—and fold the doctor’s confirmation paper neatly beneath it.

For a moment, you just stare at it.

Your hands hover over the lid.

You suddenly feel nervous all over again.

What if he cries?

What if he doesn’t believe it at first?

What if he just stares the way you did?

A smile slowly spreads across your face.

You close the lid carefully.

Then tie a soft ribbon around the box.

By the time you place it on the table, your heart is beating just as fast as it did in the doctor’s office.

Except this time…

It’s excitement.

You glance toward the door, imagining the moment Jimin walks in.

Imagining the confusion on his face when you hand him the box.

Imagining the exact second it clicks.

Your hand drifts to your stomach again.

And this time, your smile is soft and full of wonder.

“Just wait until he finds out.”

But you’ll never see his reaction…

Because the night you were going to tell him, you heard something that made your stomach churn. 

You walked in after a long day of celebrating with your friends when you noticed the small box still sitting on the table. You frowned softly as you walked over to pick it up. 

“Maybe he was too tired to notice it and just wanted to head to bed.” you mumbled to yourself. You headed up the stairs when you heard faint voices that sounded like Jimin’s. Your heart began to race as you were seconds away from telling your husband that after almost a year of failed attempts, you were finally pregnant. 

But when you opened the door…your heart almost stopped beating…

Jimin was looking up at a woman that you had never seen before with the biggest smile on his face. She was straddling his lap, moaning his name as her eyes closed in pleasure.  You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry but neither came out. 

You dropped the little white box, loud enough to make them stop. Jimin’s eyes landed on your back as you fled the room. Jimin didn’t waste any time. He threw off the woman, quickly becoming a forgotten object as he jumped out of bed. 

“Baby! B-babe! Wait!” 

But you didn’t. 

Your heart hammered against your chest as you prayed you were wrong. That you hadn’t walked into your husband having sex with another woman. His voice chased you down the hall, you didn’t dare look back. You just threw yourself into your car, still warm from earlier. You sped towards your friend’s place, she only lived a few minutes away.

Jimin didn’t catch you in time. Breathless, he returned to the bedroom, tripping over the white box with its contents scattered across the floor. He frowned softly as he crouched down to get a closer look. 

“What…wh-what is this?” he asked no one as he took the paperwork into his hands followed by the little tiny socks. “She’s…she’s pregnant? No…no no no no” 

The realization hit him like a physical blow, making him sick to his stomach. He was seconds from throwing up but by the grace of God he was able to hold it back. Behind him, the woman appears with a pout. She leans down and kisses his temple softly, disregarding his troubled state. 

“Do you need me, baby?” she asked, trailing her finger down his arm. He pushed her off, no longer caring about her wellbeing as all he could think about was finding you.

“Leave…you have no purpose anymore.” 

She tried to protest, they always did but Jimin didn’t care he ignored her, retreating to his study to retrieve his phone. He called you non-stop but you refused to answer. Maybe you were still driving, you never answered the phone when you were driving, it was a safety measure that you always took. He’d imagine that you’d be even more protective since you were carrying his kid. He stared at his screen before his shaky hands began to type. 

“Princess, I’m sorry…I’m  so sorry. Please come back. Please let me explain everything.” 

You sat outside of your friend’s house. You made no attempts to call her or text her. You didn’t even know what to say. Just a few hours ago you were here celebrating your positive pregnancy test and now you are back about to tell her that you found Jimin cheating on you.

You couldn’t stop crying despite telling yourself that you needed to calm down for the baby. 

“You have to get it together…for the baby..”

The baby you and your husband prayed so hard for. 

The baby Jimin cried for. 

The baby you cried for. 

You looked down at your phone with teary eyes before finally texting back. 

“How could you do something like that to me? I gave you all of me…everything..and you go and cheat on me? I never want to see you again..” 

Jimin’s chest tightened as he read your message, his jaw clenching so hard it ached. He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. The words “I never want to see you again” burned into his retinas, replaying over and over in his mind. 

He immediately typed back, his fingers trembling against the screen. There was no way on Earth he was going to lose his wife and child all in one night. 

“She meant nothing, nothing at all yn. It meant nothing. NOTHING. You are the love of my life and you are carrying my beautiful child. I love you. I don’t want this for us. I know there’s nothing I can say right now that won’t sound disgusting after what I did… but please don’t shut me out.” 

He hit send as he kicked his desk angrily before pacing his study like a caged animal, all the awards and trophies he had there rattling. Jimin couldn’t wait for you to respond, he texted you again. 

“I’m coming to get you. We’re going to talk face to face about this, not behind a screen. You can’t leave me, not now, not ever.” 

His possessiveness bled through every word, the entitlement he would sometimes carry twisted into something more desperate, fear. Fear of losing the one thing in this entire world that made him happy without too many expectations, the one thing he cared more about than the life he had built. 

He grabbed his car keys and jacket, his hooded dark eyes blazing with determination and barely contained emotion, rage, not at you but at himself for letting this spiral out of control.

The sound of the car door slamming echoed through the house like a gunshot.

Your entire body locked instantly.

The kitchen suddenly felt too small. Too warm. Too hard to breathe in. 

Your stomach started to churn again. The baby was already taking charge and it’s only been a short time. You weren’t ready for this conversation. The thought of him standing in this kitchen made you sick. 

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what you wanted to hear. You didn’t know if there were words that he could say that could make you feel any better. 

There were many conversations in your head that could take place and none of them made you feel better.

Taehyung’s jaw tightened as he glanced toward the front hallway while your friend’s grip around your hand instinctively tightened.

“He’s here,” she whispered softly.

Your stomach twisted violently.

A few seconds later—

The doorbell rang.

Once.

Then again.

Longer this time.

“Please open the door. Baby please. Open the door, Let me just explain everything.”

Desperate. Boy was he desperate. You could hear the panic in his voice, you imagined his tear stained cheeks and his quivering lip. The way his breath hitched or his heart pounding out of his chest. 

You immediately shook your head, as if he could see you,  panic flashing across your face.

“I can’t do this, I don’t think I can do this” you whispered quickly, your breathing becoming uneven again. “I can’t—I can’t look at him right now—”

“Hey.” Your friend crouched beside your chair immediately. “Breathe for me first, okay? Just breathe.”

But it felt impossible.

Because Jimin was on the other side of that door.

Jimin.

Your husband.

The same man who kissed your forehead before every doctor appointment.

The same man who stayed awake researching baby names at three in the morning.

The same man you caught with another woman in your bed.

“Y/n, listen,” Taehyung started, “He doesn’t get to call the shots. He doesn’t get to come in and demand anything from you, okay? If you want to stay here tonight, you absolutely can. But our only concern is you and your baby. He’s my friend but right now, I don’t care about how he feels.” Taehyung said, rubbing your back softly. “We have your back one thousand percent. You say stop, he’s going to stop. Even if I have to call the guys.” Taehyung said crouching beside his wife, rubbing your leg, platonically, of course. 

The doorbell rang again.

Then knocking.

Harder this time. More frantic than before. 

“Taehyung,” Jimin’s voice came muffled through the door, strained and desperate. “Please open the fucking door. I need to see her.”

You flinched instantly at the sound of his voice.

Taehyung noticed.

And his expression darkened immediately.

Without another word, he walked toward the front of the house.

You could hear the lock click open seconds later.

Silence.

Then—

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Taehyung’s voice was low and dangerous.

You squeezed your eyes shut instantly.

“I know,” Jimin said hoarsely. “I know, just—where is she? Please.”

“You don’t get to storm in here demanding things right now.”

“I’m not demanding anything,” Jimin snapped before lowering his voice immediately. “Fuck—I’m sorry. I just need to see my wife. That’s it. I just need to see my wife. I need to put my eyes on her and look her face to face.”

Wife.

The word made your chest ache violently.

You heard shuffling near the doorway before heavy footsteps entered the house.

And then everything went still.

You looked up before you could stop yourself.

Jimin stood frozen near the entrance of the kitchen.

And he looked ruined.

His hair was disheveled like he’d been dragging his hands through it repeatedly. His freshly ash blonde now drenched from panic and the storm that’s starting outside. His hoodie sat half-zipped over a black undershirt, the jacket was falling off his shoulder, breathing unevenly like he’d sprinted through the city just to get here, knowing him, he probably would run through the city-no the world, just to get to you.

But it was his face that almost broke you.

He looked terrified. He WAS terrified.

His red-rimmed eyes found yours instantly and stayed there like he physically couldn’t look away. His chest, heaving as he stood before you. His cheeks were stained with his tears. 

The look alone could make you forgive him..

“Baby…”

The word left him like a prayer.

Your throat tightened painfully.

For a second, nobody moved.

Then Jimin took one instinctive step toward you.

And you flinched.

It was small.

Barely noticeable.

But Jimin saw it and it crushed him.

The reaction hit him so hard he physically stopped walking.

Like someone had slammed something sharp directly into his chest.

His face crumpled almost immediately.

“Oh God…” he whispered. “Princess, I-”

The room suddenly felt unbearably quiet.

Your friend shifted protectively closer beside you while Taehyung remained standing near the kitchen entrance, watching Jimin carefully.

Jimin swallowed hard before speaking again.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, voice shaking. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Fresh tears burned your eyes instantly.

“You don’t get to say that like it fixes anything,” you whispered.

“I know,” he answered quickly. Too quickly. “I know it doesn’t fix it—I know—”

“Then why?” your voice cracked suddenly. “Why would you do that to me?”

The pain in your voice visibly wrecked him.

Jimin looked like he couldn’t even stand inside his own body right now.

“I don’t know,” he admitted hoarsely, eyes glossy. “I swear to God I don’t even know what the fuck is wrong with me. You mean everything to me and I wouldn’t survive without you. I cannot begin to tell you what I was thinking, I have no excuses, nothing.”

You laughed bitterly through your tears.

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“No,” he whispered immediately. “No, nothing about this is okay. Nothing.”

His eyes suddenly dropped lower.

Toward your stomach.

The movement was instinctive.

Reverent.

Heartbroken.

And when he looked back up at you again, his expression looked even more shattered somehow.

“You are carrying our baby,” he whispered like the realization was still destroying him in real time. 

Your chest tightened violently.

“You didn’t know that when you touched her though. You didn’t even look at the box I left..for you” You words cracked.

That did it.

Jimin physically recoiled like you’d struck him.

“Fuck—” he choked out, dragging a shaking hand over his mouth.

Tears filled his eyes instantly.

“I know,” he whispered brokenly. “I know, baby, I know—”

“Stop calling me that right now. You don’t have the right to call me that.”

The sentence cut through the room immediately.

Jimin went completely silent.

And for the first time since arriving—

He looked scared of you.

“I don’t even know what to say or even how to make this right because I know I did the most terrible thing that you could do in a marriage and I know that I destroyed your trust in me-in us but Yn…I regret what I did. I-” 

You cut him off, you didn’t mean to, but the words flew from your mouth faster than you wanted them to. 

“Why’d you do this? Why would you do this to us?” 

Jimin opened his mouth.

Then closed it again.

Because what explanation could possibly exist for something like this?

None that sounded good enough.

None that sounded human enough.

He thought of all the typical stuff that most probably would have said, 

‘She didn’t mean anything,’

‘It was nothing to me,’

‘It just happened. I don’t know.’

‘I would take it back if I could.’ which he absolutely would but even that didn’t satisfy him. 

He agreed with all of these excuses. She didn’t mean anything to him, he didn’t even remember her name. So it wasn’t meaningful. He didn’t plan on cheating; it wasn't something he planned for weeks by talking to different women on social media or even going places and seeking them out. It was something that just happened, as bad as that sounded. 

Most of all, he would absolutely take it back if he could.

But all of it sounds like poor excuses to get out of the dog house. 

You deserved the world, not the one he destroyed and tried to piece back together. 

His chest rose unevenly as he stared at you, eyes full of panic and something even worse now—

Shame.

Deep, ugly shame.

“I don’t know how to explain this without sounding like the worst person alive,” he whispered hoarsely.

Your laugh cracked painfully through the kitchen.

“That’s because you are right now.”

The words visibly hit him.

But he nodded anyway.

Because he knew you were right.

“You are right. I’m the worst person ever to step foot in this room and… and I have no excuse,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t.”

“Then why?” you demanded again, tears slipping faster now. “Was I not enough for you? Did I not give you enough?”

Jimin’s head snapped up immediately.

“No.”

The answer came so fast it startled everyone in the room.

“No,” he repeated more firmly, stepping forward instinctively before stopping himself again. “Don’t ever say that.”

Your face twisted.

“How can’t I?”

“She had nothing to do with you,” Jimin said shakily. “Nothing. This wasn’t because of you. None of this had anything to do with you.”

“But you still touched her. You smiled at her with the same smile you gave me…you GIVE me…I might as well be the one on top of you.”

His breathing faltered instantly.

Fresh tears filled your eyes as well as his.

“You still let another woman into our home, into our bed.”

The last two words broke him.

Our bed.

Jimin looked physically ill again.

“I know,” he whispered, voice cracking hard. “I know and I can’t—I can’t fucking live with what I did to you.” He ran his hands through his hair roughly, a visual on how this was messing with him mentally. How everything he had was slipping away. 

Taehyung’s jaw tightened from across the room while your friend rubbed slow circles against your back.

But your eyes never left Jimin’s.

“Did you even think about me?” you whispered. “At all?”

That question shattered him completely.

Because the horrifying truth?

In that moment—

No.

And realizing that now made him sick with himself.

Jimin dragged both hands through his hair one last time before looking at you again, completely wrecked.

“I wasn’t thinking,” he admitted brokenly. “And that’s what makes this so unforgivable.”

Silence swallowed the kitchen.

Then quietly:

“I would never intentionally hurt you.”

Your expression cracked instantly.

“But you did.”

You looked down at the floor shaking your head as you began to feel sick again but this time you couldn’t hold back. 

Your breathing became uneven again.

Too fast.

Too shallow.

The room suddenly felt unbearably warm despite the chill still clinging to your skin from outside.

You pressed a trembling hand against your stomach instinctively as nausea rolled through you hard enough to make you wince.

Jimin noticed immediately.

His entire body tensed.

“Baby—”

“Don’t,” you whispered quickly. “Please”

But your voice sounded weak now.

Your friend crouched beside you instantly.

“Yn? Look at me.”

You tried.

You really tried.

But the room was starting to blur around the edges.

“I think I’m gonna be sick…”

The sentence barely left your mouth before Jimin moved automatically.

The reaction was immediate. Instinctive.

Years of loving you overriding every other thought in his head.

He crossed the kitchen in seconds—

Only to stop abruptly when you recoiled again.

The look on his face shattered something in the room.

Because for the first time since he’d known you—

You looked afraid to let him touch you.

Jimin’s breathing staggered violently.

But despite it clearly killing him, he forced himself to stay where he was.

“Okay,” he whispered shakily. “Okay, I won’t touch you but please let me help…”

Your friend carefully guided you off the stool while Taehyung moved toward the sink for water.

“Slow breaths,” she murmured gently. “Come on, focus on me.”

Tears burned your eyes instantly.

“I’m trying,” you whispered helplessly.

Jimin looked completely frantic now.

“Do we need a doctor?” he asked immediately. “Should we call someone? Is the baby okay?”

The panic in his voice echoed through the kitchen. It came natural to him. He wasn’t sure if he was still a husband but at the end of the day, whether you liked it or not, he was an expecting father. The expecting father of your child. 

He couldn’t help but to panic. 

Your chest tightened painfully.

Because this was the man who once laid awake researching prenatal vitamins before you were even pregnant.

The man who kissed your stomach jokingly every month after another failed test.

The man who wanted this child more than anything.

And he ruined it.

Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks.

“You don’t get to care now,” you whispered brokenly.

The words hit Jimin so hard he physically flinched.

“Please don’t say that,” he whispered. “I’ll always care about our child.” 

“Why not?” Your voice cracked. “You weren’t thinking about us earlier.”

Jimin squeezed his eyes shut immediately like the sentence physically hurt.

“I know,” he choked out. “Fuck—I know, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

Taehyung returned quietly with water while your friend rubbed soothing circles against your back.

But Jimin couldn’t stop staring at you.

At your trembling hands.

At the tears running down your face.

At the hand still protectively resting over your stomach.

And for the first time that entire night—

Real fear settled into his expression.

Not fear of losing the argument.

Not fear of Taehyung throwing him out.

Fear that the stress he caused could hurt you.

Or the baby. Especially after many months of trying. It would destroy him if anything happened to this miracle God gave him that he wasn’t too sure if he deserved. 

“Oh God…” he whispered faintly to himself “let me fix this…” 

“I’m sure you and the baby are fine. This might just be too much for you to handle right now. You need to rest.” Taehyung said softly, Jimin looked up again. 

“I agree, I can take us home-” 

“No. She’s going to lay down and rest. You two can talk more in the morning. We’re ending it now.” your friend said sternly before looking up at Taehyung for back up as she led you into their guest room. 

Jimin felt defeated. He knew that this was going to be hard, but he didn’t think he’d have to fight against friends. Taehyung crossed his arms and turned to Jimin. 

“Hyung…you need to rest too. Not because you deserve to but because you need to get your head straight if you want to save your marriage..” 

He didn’t wait for Jimin to answer, he headed toward the guest room to check on you guys. 

Jimin slept on the couch.

Not because anyone forced him.

Because he knew he didn’t deserve to be near you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morning sunlight filtered softly through the kitchen windows, far too gentle for how heavy everything still felt.

You barely slept.

Every time you closed your eyes, you saw it again.

Jimin’s face.

That woman.

The white box hitting the floor.

Your stomach turned uneasily as you stepped quietly into the kitchen wearing one of your friend’s oversized sweaters.

The house was silent.

Almost peaceful.

For half a second, you forgot.

Then you saw him.

Jimin sat alone at the kitchen island, still wearing yesterday’s clothes.

And he looked awful.

His hair was messy, dark circles sitting heavily beneath swollen eyes like he hadn’t slept for even a second. His phone rested abandoned near his hand beside an untouched cup of coffee that had long gone cold.

At the sound of your footsteps, his head lifted immediately.

His entire expression softened the second he saw you.

Like pure instinct.

“Hi,” he said quietly.

The word sounded careful. Tentative.

You hated that your chest still reacted to his voice.

You didn’t answer right away.

Jimin noticed.

Of course he did.

His fingers tightened slightly around the mug in his hands before he slowly stood from the stool.

“I made tea,” he said softly. “The ginger kind you like when your stomach hurts.”

The sentence nearly broke you.

Because it was so normal.

So painfully normal.

Like he didn’t destroy your life less than twelve hours ago.

Your throat tightened as you looked away quickly.

“Thank you.”

It was polite.

Distant.

And somehow that hurt Jimin more than yelling ever could.

He swallowed hard before carefully pouring the tea into a mug anyway, adding honey without even asking because he already knew how you liked it.

The familiarity of it made your eyes sting instantly.

He slid the mug gently across the counter toward you.

But didn’t come closer. He knew better. 

You noticed that too.

“You should eat something,” he murmured after a moment. “Especially right now.”

Your grip tightened around the warm mug.

Right now.

Pregnant.

The reality still didn’t feel real.

“I’m not hungry.”

Jimin’s jaw tightened subtly with concern.

“You need to try.”

The softness in his voice almost sounded pleading.

You looked up then for the first time that morning.

And immediately wished you hadn’t.

Because he looked devastated.

Not dramatic.

Not manipulative.

Just genuinely destroyed.

His eyes were bloodshot like he’d spent the entire night torturing himself with what happened.

Which… he probably had.

Silence stretched painfully between you.

Then quietly:

“Did you sleep at all?”

The question slipped out before you could stop it.

Jimin blinked slightly like he hadn’t expected you to ask him anything.

Then he gave a weak shake of his head.

“No.”

Your chest ached despite yourself.

You hated that it did.

Jimin noticed the expression on your face immediately and looked down.

“I know you probably hate me right now,” he whispered hoarsely.

You stared at the tea in your hands.

“I don’t know what I feel.”

That answer visibly shook him.

Because hatred?

Hatred still had emotion in it.

But uncertainty?

Distance?

That terrified him.

Jimin’s voice became quieter.

“I meant what I said last night.”

You looked at him carefully.

“I love you,” he whispered. “More than anything. I’m going to fix this. No matter how long it takes me. I’m not letting us slip from our fingers. Not when we have our rainbow baby growing inside of you…” 

Fresh tears burned your eyes instantly. The mention of our rainbow baby and fixing it didn’t immediately comfort you but it reminded you of the pain he caused. 

Because the worst part?

You still believed him.

And maybe that hurt more than the cheating itself.

The first thing you noticed about Kim Taehyung is that he never walks into a room like he belongs there.

Which is strange considering every room bends around him anyway.

Staff members straighten when he passes. Managers lower their voices. Makeup artists hover nervously like they’re handling something delicate and unpredictable.

But Taehyung himself looks detached from all of it.

Black hoodie. Messy dark hair tucked beneath a beanie. Large headphones around his neck. Expression unreadable.

He doesn’t greet anyone when he enters the studio.

Just walk straight past them.

You glance down at the clipboard in your hands.

Schedule changes. Wardrobe confirmations. Dinner reservation moved to eight.

Again.

You were new to the scene but you weren’t new to being an assistant to an idol. 

Just an idol like Taehyung. 

“Don’t take it personally if he ignores you,” one of the stylists murmurs beside you. “He’s weird at first.”

“At first?” you whisper.

She snorts.

Before you can ask what that means, movement catches your attention.

Taehyung stopped walking.

Halfway across the studio floor, he turns slightly.

His eyes land on you.

Not casually either.

Directly.

Like he knew exactly where you were the moment he walked in.

The room continues moving around him. People talking. Racks rolling across the floor. Music playing softly overhead.

But for some reason it suddenly feels quiet.

You straighten awkwardly under the weight of his stare.

Then—

He walks toward you. Not the director. Not his manager.

You.

Your grip tightens around the clipboard as he stops in front of you.

Up close, he’s even harder to read.

Pretty in an unfair, almost disorienting way. But exhausted too. Like he hasn’t slept properly in days. With a schedule like this, that wasn’t hard to believe. His gaze flickers briefly to your company ID badge before returning to your face.

“You’re new.”

It isn’t a question.

You nod carefully. “Assistant coordinator.”

“Hm.”

That’s it.

Just a low hum like he’s thinking about something you aren’t part of yet.

Then unexpectedly:

“You seem calm.”

Your brows lift slightly. “...Thank you?”

Another long stare.

And for one strange second, you get the unsettling feeling he’s trying to memorize you.

Then he reaches up, gently pulls one side of his headphones off, and says:

“Come with me today.”

Your mouth parts.

“I— sorry?”

“My assistant quit.”

He says it casually. Like commenting on the weather.

Behind you, someone nearly chokes. 

“Did he just?” one makeup artist said, “She has no idea what she’s in for if she goes with him.” another said. 

“You can organize things, right?” he asks.

You blink. “I mean… yes, but I’m assigned to—”

“You’ll do fine.”

And then— before you can properly respond—

He turns and walks away expecting you to follow.

No explanation. No discussion. Just complete certainty.

The entire room goes silent.

One of the managers mutters:

“Oh no.” he mumbled, “Go ahead and find another assistant. This one isn’t going to last long.” 

~~~~~~~

The company building is nearly empty by the time Taehyung finally finishes reviewing edits.

Your eyes burn from staring at schedules all day. 

Taehyung had you running around like a chicken with your head cut off. When he wanted something, he wanted it done right then and there. There were no negotiations. He had you look over 100s of pictures he took for a popular magazine in Korea, then he had you look over the interview questions without prior knowledge of what he wanted to answer and wanted to refuse, then to top it all off when one of the managers messed up his coffee order he expected you to go get a new one. 

Now you were staring at 100s of emails that wanted Taehyung to either promote their product, become a brand ambassador or just come do an interview with them. It wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t have to also review BTS’ schedules as well to make sure they don’t clash with one another. 

The members as a group and as individuals were in high demand. Reading these emails was like reading an encyclopedia.  

Across the lounge, one of the managers gives you a sympathetic look while gathering her things.

“Good luck,” she whispers on her way out. You nod and wave before looking back down at your ipad.

You don’t even have the energy to ask what that means.

The door shuts behind her.

Silence settles over the room.

Taehyung is sprawled across the couch with his phone balanced lazily against his chest, long legs stretched out beneath the low table.

For the first time all day, he looks still.

Not restless. Not distracted.

Just tired.

You glance at the clock.

11:43 PM.

Carefully, you close the ipad in your lap.

“I finished reorganizing tomorrow’s schedule,” you say quietly. “I also moved your fitting to the afternoon since the photographer requested—”

“Okay.”

You blink.

Okay?

That’s the fastest he’s answered anything all day.

You stand slowly, gathering papers into neat stacks.

“Well…” You hesitate awkwardly. “Goodnight, Taehyung-ssi.”

No response.

You look up.

He’s already looking at you.

That same steady stare from earlier.

Unnerving. Focused.

Like he’s listening to something beyond your words.

Then:

“Did you eat today?”

Your fingers pause against the folders.

“…What?”

“You forgot.”

You stare at him.

“How would you know that?”

A small shrug.

“You get quieter when you’re hungry.”

Taehyung sits up slowly.

“Come eat.”

You glance toward the clock again. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Hm.”

“That’s your response?”

Another shrug.

“I don’t want to eat alone. Order some Japchae and get yourself whatever you want.” 

He said tossing his phone on the table before you before heading to the bathroom to freshen up. 

You paused for a second before taking his phone into your hands and ordering some food. 

The weight of the phone in your hand felt heavier than it should have.

Your thumb hovered over the screen, the bright display illuminating the confusion you had been suppressing all day. It was just Japchae and a side dish—a simple late-night meal—yet this sudden pivot from the demanding, unpredictable idol to a man concerned about your appetite felt like a trap you weren't prepared for. 

All day, he had treated you like a machine, a tool to fix his schedule and fetch his coffee, but now he was looking at you with that unsettling, focused intensity, noticing the subtle shifts in your mood that even you hadn't fully acknowledged.

You navigated the app with practiced efficiency, your mind racing faster than your fingers. 

Was this part of the "unpredictability" the files had warned you about? One moment he was the eccentric artist who expected you to read his mind, and the next, he was the only person in the building who realized you hadn't eaten since dawn. Very unlike you. 

The sound of the bathroom door clicking open startled you. Taehyung emerged, his messy dark hair now damp at the edges and the beanie gone, making him look younger and even more vulnerable than before. He didn't say anything at first, just walked over and reclaimed his spot on the couch, watching you with that same unreadable expression. 

"Ordered?" he asked, his voice a low vibration in the quiet lounge.

 You nodded, handing him back the phone while avoiding his gaze. 

"It’ll be here in twenty minutes."

He hummed—that same low, private sound—and for a fleeting second, the space between you felt less like an idol and an assistant and more like two people lost in the same late-night silence.

Like promised, the food arrived without any problems. As Taehyung pulled the food from the bags he realized it was very little for two people. So little they didn’t even include a second pair of chopsticks. 

“Did you get something for yourself?” he asked. 

“I didn’t want anything too heavy so I got some Baechu” you said softly. 

He didn’t respond. Instead he just sat down. 

He took the japchae and divided it evenly between you and him. He reached over and grabbed his bag, pulling out a cutlery set his parents gifted him and the members long ago that he became accustomed to carrying around. 

“Sit” 

It wasn’t a question or a request. 

You sat in front of the table on your knees while Taehyung sat with one leg propped up and his arm resting on his knee as he already started eating. 

“Eat” he said in between chews before grabbing his phone to check the group chat he and the members shared. 

“You didn’t have to share. I would have been okay until I got home-” 

“You haven’t eaten all day. Neither have I, let’s work on that.” 

That was the last thing he said before returning his attention back to his phone, fully expecting you to eat.

Seeing the man you were hopelessly in love with have intercourse with another woman in your bed while you were carrying your miracle child broke you in ways that you just couldn’t explain. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. 

You almost gaslit yourself into thinking this was a sick dream or something. 

But the way Jimin was texting and calling your phone told you that this?

It wasn't a dream. 

The way you were crying it was honestly a miracle that you made it to your friend’s house in one piece. 

Every text message that flew in was just another stab to the heart. 

“Baby, I promise you. She meant- no she means nothing to me. You mean everything to mean. Pretty, please believe me…” one text read. You hardly got done reading that one before another one came in. 

“I can see you reading them, please say something. Something other than you leaving me…please.” 

You scoffed as warm tears rolled down your face, shaking your head, you typed back. 

“It meant nothing? Is that supposed to make everything okay? Jimin, you slept with another woman in our bed…in our home…after everything we’ve been through. I’ve never looked at another man that wasn’t you let alone sleep with one. Not even because you get too jealous, purely from my love for you. I could never do what you did to me…I’m done. We’re done. Do not come here” 

You had so many misspelled words and broken sentences from crying so much, you doubt Jimin could understand you. 

Jimin’s phone nearly shattered from his grip as he read your text. His entire body went rigid before his hands started shaking and panic started settling in. He tried breathing, he tried counting down from ten or up to five-whatever the hell it went before texting you back. 

“Yn do not speak nonsense to me. Please. I cannot live without you and you know that. We can’t throw away our marriage over a mistake. You can’t decide that after this. You are MY wife and that is MY baby inside of you”

He was sprinting to his car, bypassing all of the staff that worked in his complex. He even ignored Hoseok and Yoongi as they were coming back from the studio. 

“What's his deal?” Yoongi said, looking behind as Jimin bolted through the doors.

“Well he did say that Yn gets crazy when it comes to her favorite ice cream, maybe he ate it all.” Hoseok shrugged before continuing walking. Yoongi chuckled. 

“My blossom is like that too. Especially now since she’s expecting our baby girl.” 

Hoseok chuckled, 

“Two kids under two is pretty insane, Hyung.” 

“Well I can’t stay off her long enough, it’ll be three sooner or later.” 

The banter was light but the burden in Jimin’s chest was heavy. 

This was more than ice cream. 

It was his baby and marriage on the line. 

Jimin was already in the car, the engine roaring to life as he peeled out of the parking garage. He didn’t want for the car to warm up, he didn’t even wait for his seatbelt to click, he was already down the busy streets of Seoul. He fucked up and he knew that. 

But the thought of you actually leaving him?

He wasn’t going to accept that. 

“I’m already on my way. If you think I’m letting you walk away from me, from us, from the life we’ve built for our baby that’s growing inside of you, you are mistaken. I know I made a mistake, but you don’t get to take my child and disappear. We took vows, pretty. For better or worse. Forever.” 

Jimin threw his phone to the passenger seat as he nibbled on his lip nervously. His hands, gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were turning white from the pressure. The hypocrisy of his words weren’t lost on him, he knew that if a man  had even walked past you a little too close, he would’ve lost his mind. 

But this wasn’t about that. 

This was about realizing that he is so close to losing something that was a constant in his life, an anchor for him and his hidden emotions, something that actually mattered to him. More than life itself.

You didn’t even walk into your friend’s house, she was already walking out, wrapping her robe tighter against the cool night’s air. Her husband happened to see you in the driveway when he had gotten home for work. You were so caught in your emotions that you hadn’t noticed him pull into the driveway and head inside. 

“Yn? Honey? What are you doing out here? It’s so-what’s wrong?” 

She immediately signaled for you to unlock the car door so she could sit with you. 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to tell her at first. 

You were so against telling your friends and family about any argument that you and Jimin had. You knew you and Jimin would fix the problem before they could even form their opinions about whatever little argument that you had. Jimin did the same. He never told his family or friends about arguments that you had either, but this was something you couldn’t keep to yourself. 

It’s not healthy in your current condition and Jimin was the next person in line to speak to,

And that wasn’t something you were ready to do. 

Your friend’s face softened instantly as she slipped into the passenger seat beside you, the scent of her lavender body wash filling the cold silence. She reached for your hand immediately, her thumb brushing against your trembling fingers.

“Talk to me sweet girl. Tell me what’s wrong..”

Your lips parted but nothing came out.

How could you even begin to explain this?

Just hours ago you were in this exact driveway laughing with her, holding back tears of happiness while showing her the positive test hidden in your purse. She had hugged you so tightly you thought your ribs would crack.

Now you could barely breathe.

Your chest tightened violently as another sob climbed its way up your throat. You turned your face away quickly, embarrassed by how broken you sounded.

“Hey, hey…” she whispered gently. “Look at me.”

You shook your head immediately.

“I can’t,” you choked out.

Fear began creeping into her expression now, replacing confusion.

“Is it the baby?” she asked quickly, eyes darting down toward your stomach. “Did something happen?”

The question shattered something inside of you.

Just another reminder of how much it took to get here. 

And just how much this hurts. 

Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks as you covered your mouth, your shoulders shaking violently.

“No—the baby’s okay,” you cried softly. “The baby’s okay…”

Relief flashed across her face briefly before concern took over all over again.

“Then what happened?” she asked carefully.

You stared down at your lap.

At your shaking hands.

At the wedding ring that suddenly felt heavier than it ever had before.

Your voice came out barely above a whisper.

“I was going to tell him tonight.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion.

“What?”

“I…” Your breath hitched painfully. “I had everything set up.”

The tiny socks flashed in your mind instantly.

The white box.

Jimin’s smile you had imagined all day long.

Your stomach twisted so hard you thought you might be sick.

“He came home from Japan and I wanted to surprise him,” you whispered, tears falling faster now. “I thought maybe he didn’t see the box downstairs so I went looking for him and…”

Your voice broke completely.

Your friend went still beside you.

And suddenly she knew.

You saw it happen on her face in real time.

The realization.

The horror.

“No…” she whispered quietly.

A sob escaped you before you could stop it.

“He was with another woman.”

The words finally left your mouth and the second they did, the entire world felt different.

Real.

Humiliatingly real.

Your friend inhaled sharply beside you, one hand immediately flying to her mouth.

“What?” she breathed out in disbelief.

You laughed bitterly through your tears, the sound completely broken.

“She was in our bed,” you whispered. “She was sitting on him and I just—”

Your voice collapsed again.

“Oh my God.”

Your friend looked genuinely sick now.

Not just angry.

Heartbroken for you.

“Yn…” she whispered softly.

“I don’t understand,” you cried. “I don’t understand why he would do this to me.”

Your breathing became uneven again as the images replayed mercilessly in your mind.

Jimin smiled.

That woman was touching him.

The sound of her voice.

Your stomach churned violently.

“He wanted this baby so badly,” you whispered shakily, pressing a trembling hand against your stomach. “We both did…”

Your friend’s eyes immediately dropped to the movement before softening all over again.

“Oh honey…”

And that was it.

The sympathy in her voice destroyed the last fragile piece holding you together.

You bent forward with a broken sob as she immediately pulled you into her arms, holding you carefully while you cried against her shoulder.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered helplessly. “I don’t know what to do anymore…”

Taehyung was watching from the living room and knew something wasn’t right. When he saw the text message from his wife:

‘He fucking cheated on her’ 

‘She is falling apart! He broke her!’

He pulled his phone out and called Jimin. 

Jimin answered on the first ring.

“Is she there?” he asked immediately, voice rough and breathless. “Taehyung, put her on the phone. Please.”

Taehyung stood near the living room window, staring out toward your car still sitting in the driveway. Through the windshield he could barely make out your silhouette curled into his wife’s side.

His jaw tightened. You are just as close to him as Jimin was. His wife adores you and so did he. They were there for you and Jimin for every negative test, every false hope. Not only did it hurt you but it hurt them as well. 

“She’s here.”

The relief Jimin let out sounded almost painful.

“Thank God,” he breathed shakily. “Is she okay? Did she say anything? Is the baby okay?”

Taehyung closed his eyes briefly at the panic in his voice before speaking again.

“You need to slow down.”

“I can’t fucking slow down right now,” Jimin snapped instantly before catching himself. “I’m sorry—I just—fuck, Tae, I need to see her.”

Taehyung’s grip tightened around his phone.

For a moment, he said nothing.

And somehow the silence felt worse.

Then finally:

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Jimin’s breathing staggered quietly on the other end.

“I wasn’t.”

“That’s your excuse?”

“No,” Jimin answered immediately, voice breaking slightly. “No, there’s no excuse.”

Taehyung shook his head slowly in disbelief.

“You had everything,” he said quietly. “Do you understand that? People spend their whole lives looking for what you had with her.”

Every word felt like a blade sliding deeper into Jimin’s chest.

“I know.”

“No,” Taehyung said sharply. “I don’t think you do.”

Jimin pressed a trembling hand over his mouth as he leaned against his desk, eyes burning.

“I do,” he whispered hoarsely. “I know exactly what I destroyed.”

Taehyung glanced back toward the front door, hearing faint crying from outside, he watched his wife guide you inside and into the kitchen, helping you to calm down. He lowered his tone before speaking again.

His expression darkened immediately.

“She can barely breathe right now.”

The silence on the other end was immediate.

Then:

A broken sound.

Like Jimin physically reacted to the sentence.

Taehyung continued before his anger truly got the better of him.

“She was here earlier today, you know.”

Jimin froze.

“She was happy,” Taehyung said quietly. “The happiest I’ve seen her in months.”

Jimin’s stomach dropped violently.

“She showed us the baby socks. Everyone is excited for you two. Jin hyung and his wife has already started cooking meals for fucking baby growth and Jungkook is already looking for a bigger penthouse cause he already planned out date nights for you two and plans on keeping the baby..”

That did it.

Jimin sank down into his chair like his body suddenly gave out beneath him, one hand gripping the edge of the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

“Oh God…”

His voice cracked completely.

Taehyung finally let some of his anger slip through.

“You made her happiest day become something she’ll never forget for the worst reason possible.”

Jimin couldn’t speak.

Could barely breathe.

All he could picture was you standing there holding that stupid little white box while he—

He squeezed his eyes shut violently.

“I know,” he whispered again, sounding destroyed. “I know.”

Taehyung’s voice lowered dangerously.

“If you come here acting defensive, I’ll throw you back out the door myself.”

“I’m not defensive,” Jimin said immediately. “I just—I need to see my wife.”

The desperation in his voice was ugly now. Barely controlled.

Taehyung exhaled slowly through his nose.

“She doesn’t want to see you right now.”

Jimin looked physically ill.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please, Tae.”

“Remember my words, Hyung…” Taehyung started, 

“If you come defensively, I will throw you out.” 

Taehyung lowered the phone slowly, his jaw still tight with restrained anger before slipping the device into his pocket.

His wife looked at him expectantly from beside you, silently asking the question neither of you wanted answered.

“He’s coming,” Taehyung said flatly. “He’s not letting up,”

Your eyes squeezed shut immediately.

Of course he was.

Jimin was many things—overbearing, possessive, obsessive when it came to you—but one thing he would never do was let you disappear after something like this.

Especially not now.

You hated that the one thing you loved the most about him was now turning into a nightmare. 

Your stomach twisted painfully.

“Hey,” your friend whispered softly, immediately crouching in front of you again. “Come inside the kitchen, let’s get warm? You’re freezing.”

Only then did you realize how cold your hands had become.

You nodded weakly.

The second you stepped inside the house, warmth wrapped around you, but it did nothing to stop the violent shaking in your body. Your friend kept one arm looped around you carefully, guiding you toward the kitchen while Taehyung lingered behind for a moment, rubbing a tired hand down his face.

The kitchen lights felt too bright.

Too normal.

You hated it.

The world shouldn’t still be moving right now.

Your friend sat you carefully at the kitchen island before immediately reaching for a glass.

“Water first,” she said gently, slipping into a comforting routine. “Then I’m making tea.”

“I can make it while you sit with Yn…” Taehyung said softly as he placed a soft hand to the middle of his wife's back to move behind her, starting the tea. 

You stared blankly at the marble countertop.

“I don’t want anything right now...”

“I know,” she whispered. “But you need something in your system.”

The mention of your condition made your chest tighten all over again.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant.

A fresh wave of nausea rolled through your stomach so violently you nearly doubled over.

“Oh God—”

Your friend immediately rushed toward you.

“Hey, hey—breathe for me.”

You pressed a trembling hand against your mouth as tears filled your eyes all over again.

“I can still hear her,” you whispered brokenly.

The room went quiet. Taehyung cringed at the sentence. He couldn’t even imagine Jimin doing something like that, not to you. Not the way Jimin always spoke about you in their quiet time together. 

Your friend’s face crumpled instantly.

“She sounded—” Your voice cracked painfully. “She sounded comfortable there.”

That sentence shattered the room.

Because that was the real horror, wasn’t it?

Not just that Jimin cheated.

But it didn’t look unfamiliar.

Your friend moved beside you instantly, gripping your hand tightly.

“Don’t do that to yourself,” she said firmly.

“But what if it wasn’t the first time?” you whispered.

The words finally escaped.

The fear that had been growing quietly in the back of your mind ever since you left the penthouse.

Your breathing became uneven again.

“What if I just never noticed?”

Your friend’s expression hardened immediately but Taehyung spoke first.

“Listen to me carefully,” he said softly but firmly, forcing your eyes toward his. “What he did tonight is on him. Not you. Don’t start tearing yourself apart trying to make sense of someone else’s awful decision.”

Fresh tears slipped down your cheeks.

“I was so happy today,” you whispered shakily. “I was so happy…”

The tiny socks flashed in your mind again.

Jimin’s smile you’d imagined.

The future you thought you were walking toward.

Gone.

Or maybe not gone.

But broken.

Your friend’s eyes filled with tears at your expression before she wrapped her arms around you again carefully.

“You don’t have to figure anything out tonight,” she whispered against your hair. “Okay? Just breathe. One thing at a time.”

But before you could respond—

Headlights flashed across the kitchen windows.

The entire room went still.

Taehyung looked toward the front of the house immediately while your body locked up completely.

And then—

A car door slammed outside.

“From the 가나 to the 하, 우리 보고 배워놔

Yeah, we aliens

If you wanna hit my house, 신발은 벗어놔

Yeah, we aliens “

Jungkook sung the lyrics with pride from their recent comeback album, this was the first album the seven had presented for their fans in over two years. 

And man did it feel good to be back. 

The stadium was a living, breathing ocean of ARMY bombs pulsed in a synchronized rhythm of green to match the vibe of the song. A rhythmic heartbeat of light that transformed the darkness into a shimmering galaxy, something one BTS and ARMY alone could achieve.

The air was thick with anticipation, a static charge that made the hair on the back of people’s neck stand up. From the first bass drop from Hooligan to the rhythmic soothing of Animal, it wasn’t just noise, it was a physical force, a thunderous vibration that rattled your ribs and synchronized your pulse to the percussion. The volume was like a weightless blanket pressing against your skin. 

On stage, the members were silhouettes against a blinding wall of LED pyrotechnics and laser beams that sliced through the haze on a 360 degree stage that left no room for mistakes.

The heat from the stage light and the collective breath of the crowd created a microclimate of pure intensity, sweat glistening like diamonds on their skin as they moved with a precision that defied gravity. Every elongated glace, sly smirk or confident wink catches the hearts of ARMY everywhere. But of course it wouldn't be BTS without them having some fun. 

 Jin laughs because Jungkook almost misses his cue.

Taehyung accidentally bumps shoulders with Jimin and they laugh mid-performance.

Hoseok improvises because the vibes on stage called for it and of course the members played along. 

 A blast of air sent a blizzard of silver confetti swirling into the rafters, catching the green glow and spinning like falling stars. Adrenaline surged through your veins, a dizzying, electric high that made every scream feel like a release. In this moment, under the kaleidoscope of strobes and the deafening roar of the fanchants, the rest of the world ceased to exist—there was only the music, the light, and the overwhelming power of the message the wanted everyone to receive. 

The final chords of "Into the Sun" crashed through the stadium, a symphonic explosion that seemed to burn the very air. The stage was bathed in a searing, brilliant gold—not the chaotic strobes of earlier, but a steady, blinding radiance that felt like looking directly into the dawn. You could see the members, their chests heaving, sweat painting their skin, giving everything they had left to this final moment.  

“Thank you ARMYYYY” the guys said sweetly before waving and blowing kisses.

The cheers.

The lights.

The silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dressing room was quiet in the way only it could be after a sold-out show.

Yoongi and Seokjin eating some left over snacks. 

Jungkook, Taehyung and Hoseok casually talking while drinking some water. 

Jimin is removing washing his face and running his fingers through his hair in a failed attempt to soothe his raging headache that didn’t leave him before the concert. 

“I still have that annoying headache. You think ARMY noticed I was off a bit?” Jimin asked with a hint of concern. He always wants to be perfect for ARMY. 

Yoongi chuckles “They notice tattoos before we even reveal, of course they noticed.” Yoongi chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. You still looked good out there.” 

Jimin smiled softly before resting his head on the vanity table. 

The room went back to it comfortable state until a staff member walks in. 

A black envelope slides across a dressing room table where Namjoon sat, reading his book.

“Monaco, wheels leave in 90 minutes.” 

He turns to leave along with every staff member. 

Yoongi and Seokjin continue to eat. 

Jimin continues to rest his eyes. 

The chatter between Jungkook, Taehyung and Hoseok remains light and youthful,

~~~~~

The was dark, the only light coming from the passing streetlamps that rhythmically swept over their faces. 

It was a stark contrast to the blinding LEDs of the stadium just an hour ago. 

No one spoke; the heavy silence was filled only by the low rumble of the engine and the soft, distracted hum coming from Taehyung. He was still vibrating on the frequency of the last song, Into The Sun, a low tuneless melody caught in his throat. 

Jungkook shifted, his boots scraping against the floorboard. He slumped further into his seat, dropping his phone into his lap and removing his left airpod. His eyes fixed on the back of the driver’s head. 

“I’m starving,” he muttered, the complaint lacking any real energy, just a flat statement of fact. Seokjin hummed in agreement. 

“We need to eat,” Jin added, his voice raspy. The driver didn’t even turn his head, his gaze focused out the window, eyes glued to the road. “We can have it ready for you once we get to the jet.”

“What do you want? Don’t say burgers again.” Yoongi mumbled with his eyes closed and his head resting on the head rest. Jimin had fallen asleep on Yoongi’s shoulder but waking up immediately for the dinner debate. “Yeah, I’m tired of burgers too.” he added. 

Groans and teeth sucking filled the air almost immediately. 

“What do you mean you’re tired of burgers?” Taehyung looked genuinely offended.

“We’ve had burgers almost every night, if I see another one I might lose my mind.” Yoongi said, still in his relaxed state. 

“What do you have in mind?” Hoseok said, shifting in his seat a little. 

“How about Ramen?” Jimin said. 

Even more grunts and groans filled the small area. 

“Burgers are one thing but instant ramen is something I’m not interested in right now.” Namjoon said. 

“Well it’s not like we can make proper ramen right now, we’re going to be in the air,” Jimin said, crossing his arms. 

Jungkook began to rub his temples "I seriously don't care what we eat anymore. Somebody just order something before I lose it."

The van rolled on, just seven tired men in a metal box, trading complaints about dinner like it was just another night. 

~~~~~~~~~

Stepping out of the van and greeting the few ARMYS that happened to be waiting on the outside alongside the flashing lenses of cameras was second nature to them. Even in their exhausted state, the transition from the quiet enclosure of the vehicle to the public eye happened in an instant, a synchronized shift into, for lack of a better term, performance mode. 

Once again, they put their weariness aside to mirror the energy of the people who had waited hours just to catch a glimpse of them. Because they loved ARMY just that much.

Large loving smiles broke across their faces, bright enough to mask the fatigue etched around their eyes. 

Finger hearts were raised toward the small crowd, small gestures of gratitude offered to the dedicated fans standing behind the security barriers. 

And funny poses filled the hearts of ARMYS, providing familiar comfort while they continued their way through the glass doors and into the customs area. 

Settled in the jet now, everyone munching on their decided dinner with light conversations. Namjoon pulls the black envelope out of his carry on bag. 

The conversation faded naturally.

Taehyung stopped humming.

Jungkook leaned forward.

Even Yoongi slowed his eating.

Seven pairs of eyes settled on Namjoon.

He studies the papers, only commenting on little details. 

“Highest bidder, private collector…” he rambles on. 

He flips the page and an amused grin forms on his face. 

“We’re not the only team.” 

Silence. 

“...Agency?” Hoseok asks, forgetting his food entirely. 

Namjoon nods once. Jungkook immediately groans throwing his head back dramatically. 

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” he says looking at Namjoon. “This is going to be a pain” 

“Maybe this time she’ll actually say hello.” Taehyung said with a light chuckle. 

“She shot your tire last time.” Yoongi said flatly. 

“...maybe that was her way of saying hello.” 

Namjoon continues to read the rest of the file, internalizing every detail to his memory until his eyes land on a single photo. A small smile lands on his lips. 

Target Location: Monaco.

Contract Status: Active.

Opposing Party: Classified.

“Looks like we will meet again.”

>>>>next

The penthouse was quiet. Not the uncomfortable silence of an empty home, but the peaceful kind that came with creating a safe space. A routine. 

Morning sunlight spilled across polished hardwood floors, warming the edges of neatly stacked books and semi-watered monsteras with cascading phalaenopsis orchids tucked beside the windows. 

Somewhere in the kitchen, a kettle clicked softly as it finished boiling.

You set your rose gold mug beneath the stream of freshly brewed coffee before walking back toward the bedroom. 

Always Bean & Bean Coffee Roasters. Never anything less. 

Everything already had its place.

Your passport rested beside your keys.

Your watch lay atop tomorrow's planner.

A Dior garment bag with its matching handbag hung neatly from the closet door.

Nothing was ever left to chance.

The bathroom mirror reflected the familiar sight of someone preparing for another ordinary morning.

At least...

As ordinary as your life allowed.

You reached into the small leather cosmetics pouch, which of course matched your Dior set, resting beside the sink.

The zipper opened with a quiet pull.

Lip liner.

Lipstick.

Gloss.

The motions came without thought now.

Years of repetition had turned them into muscle memory.

The familiar burgundy shade settled across your lips before you blotted it once against folded tissue, adding the smallest touch of gloss to the center.

Only then did you smile.

Not because of how it looked.

Because the routine was complete.

A knock interrupted the silence.

Three knocks.

Evenly spaced.

Right on time.

You already knew who it was.

~~~~~

You open the door.

A courier.

No words.

Just a matte-black envelope.

Then he leaves immediately. A small chuckle leaves your lips as you close the door.

You set the envelope on the island before pouring yourself another cup of coffee. 

No rush. Nothing. 

Because panic has never made anyone better at their job.

…And panic would only complicate things. 

In fact you got dressed, dismissing the envelope altogether. 

Inside...

One photograph.

One passport.

One plane ticket.

One destination.

Monaco.

You quietly exhale with a little tilt of your head.

"...It's been a while."

You flip to another page. Reading, rehearsing, planning. 

Studying. Until..something catches your eye. 

Your expression finally changes.

Just barely.

A tiny smile. A little amusement. 

"Freelancers."

She closes the folder.

"...This should be interesting."

~~~~~

A floor-length black leather trench coat flowed behind you, its sleek finish catching the faintest hints of light like polished obsidian. Thick black fur framed the dramatic shawl collar and lined the oversized cuffs, softening the severe silhouette with an air of extravagant wealth. 

The coat cinched tightly at your waist with a matching leather belt, sculpting an hourglass figure while allowing the skirt of the coat to fan gracefully around your legs as you stunted through the airport. 

When the front parted with each stride, it revealed a dangerously short black dress that disappeared beneath the coat’s hem, leaving just enough exposed thigh to make the look feel intentional rather than accidental. Sheer black tights hugged her legs like smoke and her knee-high, glossy black patent leather, fitting like a second skin with pointed toes and slim stiletto heel. Dark cat eye glasses concealed your eyes and your hair spilled in long, glossy waves down your back and over one shoulder.

You commanded the room without trying and that’s what made you unstoppable. 

“Must you be flashy everywhere you go, madam?” your driver asked as he escorted you to the jet. He had a small hint of amusement in his tone. 

“If this is flashy, then you have a lot to learn.” 

The flight to Monaco was brief, efficient but nevertheless comfortable. You spent it the way you spent most travel—quiet, analytical, reviewing floor plans of the casino that was to be the site of the night's objective. No nerves. No hesitation. Just the steady pulse of a job that needed doing. 

All while enjoying a lemon drop martini. 

When you arrived, the Mediterranean air was thick with the scent of salt and money. You moved through the terminal with the anonymity of a ghost, your luggage a single, sleek carry-on that hid tools far more specialized than simple clothes. 

Dior, of course.

Your contact in the city had set up a temporary safe house: a suite overlooking the harbor. It was elegant, cold, and perfect. You stood on the balcony, watching the yachts bob in the water, knowing that somewhere out there, the 'Freelancers' were also arriving. 

The file on your table was open to a grainy, black-and-white surveillance photo of the seven of them boarding their transport. A flicker of something crossed your face—not recognition, not quite—but a sharpness, a readiness for the game. 

'Let's see if you're as good as the file says,' you whispered to the empty room.

~~~~~

The Mediterranean sun was beginning its descent, casting long, amber shadows across the harbor as you stepped out of the suite. The transition from the clinical silence of the safe house to the humming energy of Monaco was seamless. You moved with practiced ease to the parking garage, where a silver Audi—gray enough to be invisible, fast enough to be a weapon—awaited. 

The drive to the outskirts was short. The private airfield sat nestled between the cliffs and the sea, its perimeter secured by layers of tech that most wouldn't notice. You pulled into a side hangar, the engine’s purr echoing against the corrugated steel. Waiting on a crate was a heavy, waterproof Pelican case. 

You didn't need to open it to know what was inside: the customized comms, the bypass kits, and the dress that was still fashionable and tactical…for the most part.

“Ooo, I like this one. Hopefully this one doesn’t rip.” 

 Before touching the gear, you tapped a sequence into your watch. A soft, encrypted chime signaled the connection. 

“Status,” a voice crackled—deep, devoid of inflection. Your handler. 

“Gear secured. Proceeding to the Casino de Monte-Carlo at 20:00,” you replied, your voice matching the cold efficiency of the line. 

“The Freelancers have touched down. We’ve tracked seven signatures at the Hotel de Paris. They aren’t hiding, which means they’re confident.” 

You checked the seal on the case, a ghost of a smile playing on your lips. “Confidence is a vulnerability. Do we have a directive on engagement?” 

“Observation only, unless the objective is compromised. Discretion is paramount. If they see you, the agency doesn’t exist. Do not let the noise of their reputation distract you from the signal.” 

“Understood,” you said, severing the link. The silence of the hangar returned, heavier than before. You tossed the case into the trunk. The game was no longer theoretical. 

Tonight, someone was leaving Monaco with the prize.

You had every intention of making sure it was you.