|| CHAPTER - 40 ||

•| CHAPTER ~ 40 |•

•| Just A Letter|•

✿───❀  ♡  ❀───✿

Evie and Jungkook stood in the stillness, the everything quiet around them except for the sound of leaves rustling gently above. Jungkook's hand tightened around Evie's waist with a pressure that said he wasn't ready to let her go.

His other hand moved with deliberate slowness, brushing a stray strand of her hair from her cheek, tucking it softly behind her ear. His thumb lingered just beneath her jaw, and for a second, the gesture felt so tender that it almost didn't belong to a man like him.

He leaned in just enough for her to hear him, his voice low and coated with something dangerously close to vulnerability. "Evie…" he said her name like it held weight, like he had been choking on it all this time. "I'm sorry." The words weren't dramatic. They were quiet, almost broken but too controlled to be truly raw. "I know I don't deserve anything from you. Not your time. Not your forgiveness. But still, I need to say this."

His fingers hovered at her skin, and his gaze didn't waver. "I messed up. I crossed every line. I was cruel. I was proud. But believe me, it's haunted me every single fucking day since. I was wrong." He paused for breath, his jaw tensing as if he was holding himself back. "You didn't deserve it. Not a second of it. I never should have judged you the way I did, talked to you the way I did. And Taehyung–what he did, I'm not saying I’m any better, but you… you didn't deserve any of it."

Evie looked at him, her eyes scanning his face, his mouth, his eyes, the softness of his voice that felt rehearsed, almost too perfect. Her hands lifted unconsciously, pressing lightly against his chest in restraint. She needed something to ground herself, because he was too close and too familiar, and that made it dangerous.

But the longer she looked at him, the more the illusion cracked.

Because beneath that calm, sorrowful expression was still the disgusting man.

And just like that, something snapped inside her.

She shoved him–hard.

Jungkook stumbled back a few steps, caught off guard, his grip falling away from her. He stared at her like he didn't expect her to fight back.

As she shoved him back, her eyes locked onto him burning with disbelief. There wasn't a single trace of trust left in her gaze. Not for the man who once question about her dignity and now stood here, acting like some kind of reformed saint.

"You really are a fool… or maybe you think I am one," she said quietly, her voice shaking with rage. "You actually think I'll fall for the bullshit you're feeding me now?"

She took a step forward, not afraid, not holding back. Her chest rose and fell with the weight of her words.

"Feeling guilty? Really? Do you even hear yourself? You think I'm going to believe that shit now, after everything?"

Her hands trembled at her sides, her voice cutting deeper with each word.

"A man like you–someone who never had a shred of humanity… no respect, no decency–now suddenly feels bad? The spoiled son of a rich man, so blinded by his own ego and pride, thinking the whole damn world spins around him. And now he's sorry?"

She scoffed, shaking her head slowly, like she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"You never had the basic decency to know how to treat people… how to talk to them. Especially not women. And now, out of nowhere, you show up with this fake regret, trying to act like you've changed?"

Her voice cracked from the rage.

"You judged me the moment we first met. Insulted me and made fun of my insecurities the second time without even blinking. And then after you had asked me to warm up your bed and ask me about my prize."

Her breathing quickened, but she kept going.

"And when I slapped you because I couldn't take it anymore… you looked me dead in the eyes and said I was lucky to be a girl. That being a girl saved me from your wrath. Otherwise, you would've broken my hand."

She stared at him, dead in the eye. His jaw clenched, but he didn't speak.

"And now, you come to me with apologies? With guilt? The same man who had girls begging around him, throwing themselves at him, now running after a girl he barely knows because what? Because you feeling guilty."

She blinked hard, her voice low.

"Do you really think I'm that much of a fool?"

Jungkook stepped forward, frustration simmering behind his voice. "Don't be so harsh. I'm apologizing to you, can't you just listen? You're just bitter because of Taehyung. You're mad at him, and now you're taking it out on me."

Evie stared at him like he'd grown two heads. "Are you serious right now?" she said slowly. "Taehyung has nothing to do with this, and you know it. Don't drag him into something he's not part of. This… this is about you."

She paused, her eyes cold and steady. "And I don't believe a single word you're saying. You talk about guilt like you even understand what that means. You–of all people–feeling sorry? It doesn't fit. It doesn't make sense."

Jungkook's jaw tightened, and he shot back, "So what then? If I don't apologize, I'm the arrogant jerk who never owns up to anything. But if I do apologize, I'm suddenly manipulating you? Is it that wrong to say sorry? I said some things–I admit it and I feel guilty. I'm trying to make it right, and you're just throwing it back at me."

Evie didn't even blink. "You know what the problem is? I don't trust you. Not even a little. And nothing you say changes that. Guys like you don't suddenly wake up one morning feeling guilty unless they have something to gain. You have girls chasing after you every damn day–ones way better than me, richer, whatever. So why me, huh? Why now? You really think I'll believe this random change of heart?"

She took a breath, not to calm down but to hold herself back from exploding.

"I don't need your apology. It doesn't mean anything to me. You think it matters to me whether you're sorry or not? It doesn't. I don't want it, and I don't believe it's real."

Her tone was calm now, but cutting like a blade.

"I don't know what game you're playing or what's going through your head but I know your intentions aren't good. I can feel it. And no matter how nicely you word it, I don't trust you. Not your words. Not your face. Not your sudden 'guilt.' So save it."

She stepped closer, voice low but firm. "Don't come to me again with this. Stop wasting your time. Whatever this is–it's not going to work. Stay out of my way, and mind your fucking own business."

Evie stared at him for a long second–eyes sharp, burning with disgust. Then she let out a bitter breath through her nose, almost like she couldn't believe the nerve he had.

"You really should consider acting," she said, voice low and cutting. "You're already a natural at pretending to be human."

Then she brushed past him, her shoulder colliding with his–rough, intentional and she didn't stop or look back.

Jungkook stood there, lips tightening into a slow, amused grin. He watched her walk away, his eyes dark, unreadable.

"Tch… stubborn," he muttered under his breath. "But that only makes it interesting."

He slid his hands into his pockets, turning away with a smirk that didn't reach his eyes.

"She thinks she's walking away," he said quietly to himself. "Let's see how far she gets before she comes running back."

✦───────────────✦

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Dear Evie,

I don't know how to begin this, and to be honest, I hate that I even have to. Writing this letter is harder than I imagined, and I feel ashamed–truly ashamed–for the way I behaved a few nights ago. I came to your house drunk, said things I shouldn't have, and created a scene I wish I could erase.

Being drunk isn't an excuse. It never was, and it never will be. What I said that night wasn't just wrong–it was disgusting. Not just toward you, but toward any woman. I've always told myself I respect women, and I still want to believe that about myself. But that night, I failed. I stooped low, and I won't try to justify it. I only hope someday you can forget those words, if not forgive them.

But Evie... what hurts even more is that despite everything I said that night, what you did to me still lingers like a slow, deep wound.

I loved you. I trusted you. Maybe it had only been a few months, but you were the one who said time didn't matter. You were the one who looked me in the eyes and said I was your type–that I made you feel safe. So how did we end up here? How did that girl become the same one who chose to walk away without telling me, and fall into someone else's arms , person who once was my friend?

With Jungkook

If someone had told me you were with Jungkook, I would've never believed it. I would've defended you. But I saw it myself with my own eyes. At the farewell party. I tried to tell myself it was just a dance but it wasn't just that, was it? I saw how you kissed him. How you left with him. How you laughed like nothing mattered.

And then a few days later... I saw you with him again. Near my street. His hand on your back like you were already his. That moment broke something inside me.

I know I'm not perfect, Evie. I never claimed to be. Maybe I never was enough for you. Maybe you were just too kind to say it. But cheating? Betrayal? You could've just walked away. Why did you have to lie with your silence?

I don't think we're right for each other anymore. Maybe we never were. You did what you did, and I'll carry that hurt with me. But I also accept that I'm no saint.

Maybe we both ruined something that could've been good. Maybe we both just weren't right.

So I'll be the one to end this. I'm leaving the city, and I never expected to see you again. You're free to live your life how you want, with whomever you want. I won't get in your way.

But I hope, truly, you never go through what you've put me through.

Take care of yourself,Taehyung

=============

The room was hazy, thick with smoke and the sharp smell of alcohol. The dim yellow light barely lit the corners, flickering against the empty whiskey bottles lying scattered. Jungkook leaned back into the couch, a cigarette lazily hanging between his fingers, a mocking grin spreading across his face as he read the letter in his hand again.

"Yo, what the fuck is that?" his friend asked, slouching beside him, glancing at the paper Jungkook was holding with curiosity.

Jungkook didn't answer immediately. He just laughed–deep, amused like he couldn't believe what he was reading. He tossed the letter onto the table like it disgusted him and reached for his glass. One big gulp and the burn of liquor hit his throat, but it only made him laugh harder.

His friend picked up the letter, skimmed through a few lines, and snorted. "What the actual fuck. People still do this shit in love? Letters? Is this a fucking K-drama or some Shakespeare tragic shit?"

Jungkook wiped the corner of his mouth with his sleeve and scoffed. "Bro, the guy poured his heart out like it's still 1950. It's the fucking 21st century, who even sends letters anymore? Text, call, or hell–just ghost each other like normal people."

"Guess she blocked his number," his friend shrugged, grinning. "Still. Cringe as fuck."

Jungkook's jaw flexed. "Taehyung's a clown. Legit. Imagine writing all this emotional trash to a girl who slapped the fuck outta you, kicked you out of her house, and cheated on you—at least, that's what he thinks, right?" He snorted again. "And here he is, apologizing. Like, bro, get a grip. Where's your ego?"

His friend laughed, nodding. "Dude's got zero self-respect left. I mean, if a girl did that to me, I'd will show her with whom she messed up and show her real place. Not write some love letter full of guilt like I'm the villain."

Jungkook leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at the letter again, though the amusement in his eyes was beginning to dull. The smirk lingered, but something underneath was quietly burning. "He's so fucking weak. Can't even hold his pride. And he calls that love?"

He tossed the letter again, shaking his head like it was the most ridiculous thing he'd seen in a while. But after a few more rounds of laughter, he grew quiet.

The silence in the room stretched a little too long. Jungkook stared ahead, thoughts spinning behind his eyes as the alcohol started to settle in his bloodstream.

But what nobody except from him and his friend knows—was that this letter was never meant to land in Jungkook's hands.

But Jungkook had his ways. Quiet, unseen, and always one step ahead. He'd been keeping track of their every move–Evie's, Taehyung's–their routines, their mistakes. So when the letter was sent, he made sure it never reached her. It slipped through the cracks just like he intended.

Of course it did. He didn't need to follow anyone. He had eyes where it mattered. And now that piece of bleeding-heart trash was his to laugh at.

This wasn't a love story anymore. And Jungkook? He wasn't playing fair.

Jungkook lounged back, his shirt half unbuttoned, hair a mess from running his fingers through it too many times. He was still smirking as he stared blankly ahead, that letter from Taehyung resting like a trophy on the coffee table, as if mocking every line Taehyung had poured his guilt into.

His friend leaned forward, arms resting on his knees, shaking his head with a grin that was half disbelief and half admiration. "Man, I still can't believe how evil you really are," he said, laughing under his breath. "You should seriously audition for a villain role in movies. You'd kill it."

They both chuckled, a shared understanding in their laughter–two men drunk not just on alcohol, but on power and the thrill of control.

"And that stunt you pulled with her dad?" the friend added, eyes widening slightly as the memory hit. "You really dragged that man into the mud… got him fired. Damn."

Jungkook tilted his head, smirk deepening like it was something he was proud of. He picked up his glass, swirling the last bit of whiskey at the bottom before downing it in one go. The burn didn't even faze him.

"She thinks Taehyung did that," Jungkook said with a small laugh. "Isn't that pathetic? That girl really believes it was him getting back at her for the slap and the insults. Makes sense from her side though, right? I mean, she humiliated him, slapped him, kicked him out like trash, so now she's convinced he's taking revenge. But nope." He leaned back, lips curling with satisfaction. "It was me. I had to bribe Taehyung's father manager like hell to make that frame stick. But it worked so perfectly. Couldn't have planned it better."

His friend raised his eyebrows, then whistled low. "You're fucking obsessed with that poor girl," he said, laughing again, though this time with a note of disbelief. "Why her though? What's the big deal? She's not even worth this much effort, man."

Jungkook's face darkened just a little, his jaw clenching before he answered. "Poor girl?" he repeated, voice low, eyes narrowing as he poured himself another drink. "She fucking slapped me. Do you know what that did? It became a fucking campus gossip. Everyone talking about it. Me. Slapped by her. And it didn't end there–every time I go to her, she insults me. Like she's above me or something." He laughed bitterly. "Do you know how hard it is for me not to lose my patience with her? No one—no one—talks to me like that. Not in my world."

He took a long drink, barely blinking. "She's too damn arrogant. Too proud. Thinks she can throw attitude around like it's currency. But something about her... it pisses me off and pulls me in at the same time. I want to see her fucking crumble. See her broke. Lost. Begging for help. My help."

He paused for a moment, his breathing heavier now, eyes glazed slightly from the alcohol but still focused. "I've got other plans. She doesn't even know what's coming. I want to see how long she can keep resisting me."

They sat there in silence for a few seconds.

Then, as if something clicked, Jungkook's gaze dropped to the letter resting on the table again. His eyes lingered on it, and slowly, the corner of his lips curled into a smirk–one that didn't quite reach his eyes. There was a sharpness to it now, a dangerous glint that wasn't there before. He reached forward, fingers dragging across the edge of the paper like he was toying with the idea unraveling in his mind.

"She insulted me," he muttered under his breath, almost like he was talking to the room, or maybe to himself. "Called me names. Mocked me…" His voice dropped, low. "Let's give her a little payback."

Without another word, he stood calmly  walked over to a side shelf and pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and a black pen. His friend watched, the shift in Jungkook's mood making something uneasy stir in his chest. Jungkook sat back down, rolled up his sleeves, and hunched over the table–his expression unreadable, his focus sharp as he writing on paper something.

His friend leaned in slightly, curiosity creeping into his tone. "What are you doing now?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

Jungkook didn't reply. The only response came from the deliberate scratching of the pen as it moved across the paper.

Minutes passed. Then finally, Jungkook looked up, his face calm, but a devilish gleam in his eyes. He handed the folded paper to his friend with a quiet, almost triumphant smirk.

His friend took it cautiously, unfolding it and the moment his eyes skimmed over the first few lines, his whole expression shifted. Shock, amusement, and disbelief flickered across his face all at once.

"Holy shit," he muttered, his voice low. "You're insane. Actually insane." He let out a long whistle as he continued reading, shaking his head slowly. "This… this is next-level fucked up. You made it sound like Taehyung is a complete monster. If she believes this…"

"She will believe it," Jungkook interrupted smoothly, leaning back into the couch with satisfaction, his voice casual, like he was stating a fact. He lit a cigarette, the end flaring orange as smoke drifted lazily from his lips.

His friend gave him a sideways look. "What if she recognises that this isn't Taehyung handwriting though?" he asked, raising a brow. "You're risking a lot if she doubt."

Jungkook laughed then–mocking sound. "Recognise it?" he said. "Please. That girl doesn't have enough brain cells to figure out how a ceiling fan works, let alone my handwriting. She's dumb as hell. Always was."

He took a long drag of his cigarette before continuing, his voice laced with dark amusement. "Besides, the iron's already hot. They've already got enough cracks between them to let this break the whole thing. She wants to believe it. That's the beauty of it. Her emotions are already doing the job for me."

He leaned forward slightly, eyes locked on the rising smoke. "All I did was add a little push. This letter?" He gestured toward the paper in his friend's hand. "It'll pour gasoline over the fire I already lit."

His friend stared at him for a moment, still stunned. "Man… you really want to ruin her."

Jungkook didn't respond for a second, just looked ahead, cigarette resting between his fingers. Then, without looking away, he murmured, "I don't just want to ruin her. I want to watch her fall apart—bit by bit. And when there's nothing left of her pride or that attitude, I want her crawling back… needing me, asking for my help."

A slow smirk spread across his face again. "And trust me… that's only the beginning."

This wasn't just a game to Jungkook anymore.

It was personal.

And it was war.

================

Evie,

This isn't something I ever planned to write, but maybe it's better that I do. There are a few things that have been weighing on me - not because I want to fix them, but because I think you should know where I stand now.

You once said I was the best man you'd ever met. And now, suddenly, I'm the worst. I'm a stranger to you. Your words, not mine. I've repeated them in my head more times than I care to admit. And you know what? You're right. Maybe I was never meant to be the good guy. Maybe I was never meant to matter.

I wasn't built for relationships. I've always preferred silence over emotional chaos. Being with you felt loud. Not bad - just too much. I tried to keep up, tried to be the man you needed. But somewhere in the middle of all that, I lost track of what I wanted.

That night at your house - yes, I was drunk. But I wasn't blind. I saw the way you looked at me… like I disgusted you. You slapped me, threw me out, and called me a mistake. I said some things that night, and I regret how I said them - but I don't regret the truth in them. And maybe you'll hate me more for saying this, but that night changed something in me. I don't think I've ever felt smaller than I did standing at your door, being told I was a stranger.

So maybe it's fitting that I finally started acting like one.

I didn't mean to do anything to hurt you, but I also didn't mean to protect you either. Your father's name came up in something messy - and I didn't step in to stop it. I could've. I didn't. Call it revenge, call it pride, call it me being human. Either way, I let it happen.

You lost your father job. You lost people's respect. Maybe you even lost yourself a little. And I stood still. I didn't do it directly, but I didn't lift a finger to help. Because deep down, I think I wanted you to feel what I felt when you looked at me like I was nothing. When you said I was the worst man you ever met. When you said we were done.

I told myself I wouldn't send this. I don't expect forgiveness. I don't want a reply. This isn't some grand gesture to win you back. I'm leaving the city, and I doubt we'll ever cross paths again.

You can think whatever you want of me now. Maybe I became the stranger you said I was. Maybe I always was.

Live your life, Evie. With whoever you want.

And don't bother to message me or call me, I have more better works to be done.

—Taehyung

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