† 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟲𝟯 †

╭─━─━─━─━─━─╮𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟲𝟯†❝𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗚𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗡 𝗗𝗔𝗬❞╰─━─━─━─━─━─╯

༺ ☠︎ †  𝖁 𝖎 𝖘 𝖎 𝖔 𝖓  𝖎 𝖓  𝕯 𝖆 𝖗 𝖐  † ☠︎ ༻

When things start falling apart worse than you ever imagined, you don't let go immediately. You try to hold on. You try to fix it, to save whatever is left before it slips completely out of your hands.

Evie did the same.

She tried—again and again—to hold onto a relationship that was already fragile, already cracking beneath the weight of everything unspoken and everything that had gone wrong. She kept putting in effort from her side, hoping that somehow things would settle, that something would change, that maybe this phase would pass.

But nothing changed.

Days went by like that. Then weeks. And eventually, an entire month passed.

And for Evie, nothing got better. If anything, it only got worse. The cycle didn't stop– it deepened, turning more suffocating, more toxic with each passing day.

Jungkook had changed in a way she could no longer ignore. He had become harsher, more aggressive with his words, more controlling in his actions. It was as if he wanted complete authority over her—over everything she did, everything she said, every step she took. He didn't treat her like a partner anymore.

It felt like he saw her as something he owned, something he could control, something that existed only within the limits he set.

And slowly, painfully, that reality started breaking whatever little hope she still had left.

The hope that things could get better. The hope that this marriage could be fixed.

She stopped holding onto that illusion.

She stopped imagining a future with him, because deep down, she knew the truth—they couldn't continue like this. Not in a relationship that had become this toxic, this suffocating, this empty in the name of marriage.

She didn't want to admit it at first, but something inside her had already given up.

She wasn't waiting for things to improve anymore. She was only waiting to see how it would all end. Because now, she knew—truly knew—that whatever they had was hanging by the thinnest thread, ready to snap at any moment.

It wasn't going to last. Not like this. Not for long.

The way things were going, she was certain this relationship wouldn't survive much longer—maybe not even another month. It had reached a point where it felt unbearable, where every day was heavier than the last, where staying felt harder than leaving.

And now, instead of hoping for change, she found herself wondering how it would end.

Would he be the one to leave her?

Or would something worse happen– something that would finally break that last fragile thread she was still holding onto?

Because whatever love had once existed… it was gone. At least from his side.

And she couldn't keep lying to herself anymore, couldn't keep pretending that there was still something left in him beyond that toxicity, that control, that constant need to break her down.

She kept asking herself the same questions over and over again—what changed? What did she do wrong? When did everything start falling apart like this?

But there were no answers.

Only a pattern she couldn't ignore anymore.

It felt like he was testing her limits –pushing her again and again, just to see how much she could take, how far he could go before she finally broke. And the truth was, he was already close to that point.

Because she was already standing at the edge.

His constant aggression, his suffocating control, his toxic behavior–it had slowly pulled her away from him, piece by piece, until there was almost nothing left.

She stopped trying to talk to him. Stopped trying to fix things. Stopped bothering him at all.

Now, she just existed in that house, not knowing what else to do, not knowing how to completely walk away, but no longer trying to hold things together either.

She had already stopped going to his room after one of their fights– a fight that had only made him more aggressive afterward. But even that didn't matter to her anymore because she had chosen distance.

She chose the couch over his presence, because at least there, she could cry quietly without being seen, without being judged, without being hurt further.

There was no warmth left between them. No shared space. No connection.

Just two people living under the same roof–completely disconnected, completely broken in their own ways. And now, she wasn't really living with him anymore—she was just… staying. Passing time under the same roof, existing in a space that no longer felt like hers, while quietly preparing herself for the inevitable end she knew was coming.

To be honest, she didn't even want to be there anymore. Living like this– walking on eggshells, carrying the weight of his behavior every single day –had drained something out of her. But leaving wasn't as simple as walking away in a moment of anger.

Because her situation wasn't that easy.

She was financially dependent on him. Completely.

She had left her job after marriage– because he had asked her to– and now she had no independent income of her own. On top of that, her father's condition made things even more complicated. After his declining health, he had also stopped working and was living alone, relying on support. And that support… was coming from Jungkook. He was the one covering all the expenses—her father's medical treatments, daily needs, everything.

And that reality held her back.

She couldn't just make an impulsive decision and walk away in anger, no matter how badly she wanted to. Because if she did, it wouldn't just affect her–it would affect her father too. And she couldn't risk putting him in that situation.

So she stayed.

Not because she wanted to. But because she had to think beyond her emotions.

She was trying now–quietly, carefully preparing herself for the day she could finally leave without falling apart. Trying to figure things out, to build some form of independence again, so she wouldn't have to rely on him anymore.

Because when she walked away, she didn't want to come back.

And for that, she needed to be ready—not just emotionally, but practically too.

Amid all this chaos, the only place she found even a little comfort was in her father and somehow, in Ethan too.

Ethan, who was once just a manager of Jungkook, had slowly become someone she could trust. Someone who checked in on her without asking for anything. A kind man. He was older than her and always treated her with nothing but genuine care–like a younger sister.

He wasn't someone she talked to every day, but every now and then, he would call just to ask how she was doing. And when things at home got really bad, Ethan would come by with food his wife had made, or invite her out with his family to give her a break from the suffocating house she lived in.

She'd gone out with Ethan and his family a few times–nothing long, just a short lunch or a walk in the park with his cheerful kids. Always making sure she returned before Jungkook did.

Ethan's wife, a warm and friendly woman, knew everything. Ethan had told her from the start that Evie was going through a rough time, and his wife had nothing but compassion for her. She even invited Evie to family outings and treated her like a friend. They weren't close, but it was more kindness than she had received from anyone in a long time.

Every time she watched Ethan with his wife, she felt something she hadn't felt in a while—peace. He was such a gentleman, so loving and respectful to his wife. Whether it was making sure she was eating well, holding her hand, or hurrying home because she was waiting for dinner– his love was visible in the small things.

Evie remembered the countless nights she sat alone at the dinner table, waiting for Jungkook, knowing full well he wouldn't come. She remembered how Ethan would gently refuse her offer to eat together because his wife was waiting at home. And that simple loyalty, that kind of love–it stuck with her.

It made her wonder how different life could be if she had someone like that.

It reminded Evie of all the little dreams she once had when she got married to him— a husband who loved her, a home filled with laughter and warmth, kids running around, both husband and wife coming home from work tired but happy and cooking together while talking about their day. Just something normal. Something simple. Something kind.

But with Jungkook, all of that felt like a joke. Like a life that belonged to someone else, never to her.

†

Ethan saw everything, even if she never said much.

He wasn't blind to the way her smile faded, the way her eyes looked tired, or how quiet she'd become. He knew how Jungkook truly was behind closed doors, and he could see that this young woman was being punished for something she probably didn't even do. That's why Ethan kept checking in on her. He didn't see her as anything other than a girl who didn't deserve what she was going through.

He pitied her, yes– but more than that, he respected her for surviving it.

She didn't cook much like usual. She barely talked. Her energy was gone but he never judged her, never made her explain. He'd sometimes bring home-cooked meals from his wife just so she wouldn't skip meals and when he left, he'd just say, "Call me if you ever need anything." Nothing more. No pressure. Just simple kindness.

That's why Ethan had started digging deeper. He wanted to understand what exactly pushed Jungkook to do all this to her— why he was betraying her, and playing with her life like it was some kind of game. Jungkook had been sleeping with countless women before, and even during his so-called marriage, he still hadn't stopped.

Ethan had always known that Jungkook wasn't the most decent man, but this level of madness, this obsession with hurting someone who clearly didn't deserve it–it didn't sit right with him. So in the past few months, Ethan quietly tried to put the pieces together, trying to find the real reason behind Jungkook's so-called revenge.

After asking around, paying attention to small things Jungkook said, and having a few quiet conversations with people who knew the past, Ethan started to learn more. He didn't get the full picture, but he found enough to guess what had happened.

From what he gathered, Evie had been in a relationship before Jungkook came into the picture. And not just with anyone—she was with Kim Taehyung, the son of one of the biggest company owners in the city and interestingly, someone Ethan knew well. Taehyung had once been one of Jungkook's closest friends and Ethan had watc him grow up. Unlike Jungkook, Taehyung was a calm, respectful and decent young man–nothing like the version of Jungkook Ethan knew today.

From what Ethan could piece together, it seemed that when Jungkook showed interest in Evie and she rejected him, he didn't take it well. Being rejected in front of others, especially when you're someone like Jungkook– someone used to getting everything he wants–must've hit his ego hard.

He didn't know every little detail but he could imagine how a man like Jungkook, with all his pride and status, would treat rejection like a personal insult. So instead of moving on, Jungkook chose this baseless revenge. He destroyed Taehyung's relationship with Evie, pushed him out of the picture, and then married her himself–just to ruin her.

The more he thought about it, the more disgusted he felt. How could someone go this far just because their ego got bruised?

It wasn't just immature—it was sick. And what made it worse was how toxic and calculated Jungkook had been about it all. He didn't just marry Evie to get back at her. He made her believe she was loved, gave her false hope, only to ruin her afterwards.

He had himself witnessed the moments when Jungkook would humiliate Evie in front of the household staff over the smallest things. He would yell, criticize and act like she didn't even matter. And she was just trying to keep things together, still waiting for him late at night, hoping they could fix things, completely unaware that the man she married never even intended to love her.

Ethan had started feeling both pity and guilt. Pity because Evie was clearly suffering for something she might not have even done intentionally and guilt because he was staying quiet about it. He had seen Jungkook cheat on her, sneak around with other women–even bring them to his office sometimes.

And Evie still lived in the hope that maybe Jungkook, despite being rude and distant, was at least loyal. But he wasn't.

And it was the worst part.

He was cheating on her, lying to her face and making her feel worthless. And Ethan—no matter how much he wanted to help– couldn't say anything openly. He had a family too, a wife and kids, and going directly against Jungkook could bring danger to them. Jungkook's wrath wasn't something to take lightly.

But Ethan couldn't just sit back and stay completely silent while all of this was happening. He knew too much to ignore it now. Still, he had to be careful–whatever he did couldn't put anyone in danger, not Evie, not her father, and definitely not his own family.

So instead of acting impulsively, he started looking for a way out– a solution that could help her escape this situation without making things worse.

More than anything, he wanted Evie to find out the truth on her own. He believed that if she saw everything clearly, if she understood what Jungkook was really doing, she would choose to walk away herself. And that would be safer.

He wanted her to be free. Free from a marriage that was nothing but a lie. Free from the constant mental torture Jungkook was putting her through.

But until that happened, there wasn't much he could do directly. So he waited carefully and patiently.

And from a distance, he kept an eye on her, just enough to make sure she was okay, just enough to step in if things ever went too far.

†

Ethan sat across from Jungkook in his office, the air between them heavy with an unspoken tension that never really left. Jungkook leaned back lazily in his chair, his attention split between the screen of his phone and the work scattered across his desk. He looked tired, drained like nothing around him truly mattered enough to hold his focus for long.

Ethan didn't linger more than necessary. The moment it seemed like the work was almost done, he got up from his seat, not bothering to stretch the conversation any further. He had no interest in staying there longer than required.

As he stepped out of the cabin and into the hallway, someone walked past him and straight toward the office door.

A woman moving like she belonged there confident and composed and he recognized her instantly— it's Raven.

Her presence didn't surprise him anymore. She was a regular here, someone he had seen too many times to count. Always around Jungkook, always close to him, never hiding what she was to him.

Ethan's gaze stayed on her for only a brief second before he looked away. There was nothing new to see, nothing worth reacting to.

Without a word, he continued walking down the hallway, leaving her behind as she pushed the door open and stepped into the cabin, where Jungkook was already waiting.

Not noticing his surroundings he leaned back in his chair with a deep sigh, finally closing the last file after hours of non-stop tiring work. The tiredness showed on his face, but not enough to kill the usual arrogance in his eyes. His tie was loosened, top buttons open, sleeves rolled up. He ran a tired hand through his hair as if brushing off the weight of the entire day.

The door opened softly, and Raven stepped in. She paused by the doorway, letting her eyes run over the scene in front of her–Jeon Jungkook, overworked and distant, the man who hadn't bothered to call or text her in days.

She cocked her head, a slight smirk curling on her lips as she spoke, sarcasm laced in her tone. "Working too hard, Jeon? So busy you forgot I exist?"

At the sound of her voice, Jungkook's head lifted immediately. His expression shifted the moment he saw her–lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he relaxed further into his chair, arms wide on the armrests like a king watching his favorite toy return.

"Raven," he said, voice low and hoarse from exhaustion, "came all this way just to see me?"

She walked toward him with slow, unhurried confidence, like she already knew the effect she had. Without asking or even pausing, she slipped onto his lap sideways, as if it was the most natural place for her to be. The boldness of it drew a faint, amused reaction from him– something almost like a quiet groan under his breath –as his hands instinctively shifted to steady her, helping her settle more comfortably against him.

Her fingers moved through his slightly disheveled hair, smoothing it back in a slow, familiar motion, while her other hand traced lightly along the line of his neck, teasing in a way that was both effortless and intentional.

Jungkook's eyes fell shut, his head tilting back just a little as he exhaled, a low hum slipping past his lips. The tension in his body eased under her touch, as if, for a moment, everything else had been pushed aside.

"You haven't even texted in days," she whispered against his jaw.

"Sorry," he muttered without sincerity, "work's been a bitch."

Raven leaned closer, lips barely grazing his ear. "You could've come to me," she whispered, "you know I'm the best at making your stress disappear."

Jungkook chuckled, eyes still closed. "I was busy. But you're here now, aren't you?"

Their little game of flirting continued, the tension between them slipping easily into something familiar. Raven smirked as her fingers moved lightly across his chest, her nails grazing just enough to get a reaction out of him. She watched him closely, clearly enjoying the way his body responded, the subtle shift in his breathing. It had been a while since she had seen him like this and she liked knowing she still had that effect on him.

But then she paused.

The teasing ease in her expression didn't disappear, but something in her tone shifted, still mocking yet carrying a sharper edge beneath it.

"So…" she drawled, tilting her head slightly, "how's your lovely wife, by the way?"

Jungkook didn't respond immediately. The silence stretched just enough for her to notice the small twitch at the corner of his mouth. She caught it instantly. That slight shift, that faint edge–it told her everything she needed to know—it's jealousy.

Typical.

He opened his eyes slowly, his smirk deepening as his grip on her waist tightened, pulling her closer against him like he was claiming control of the moment again.

"There it is," he murmured, his voice low, edged with dark amusement. "That jealous, bitchy tone." His gaze dragged over her face, knowing. "You look so hot like that but it doesn't suit you."

Raven rolled her eyes immediately, letting out a small scoff as she leaned back just enough to look at him properly.

"I'm not jealous, for your kind information," she shot back. "And the point is—you told me this whole fake marriage thing would only last a few months. It's been six."

Her brows lifted slightly, challenging.

"Isn't your little revenge project dragging on a bit too long?" she added, her voice dipping with quiet implication. "Or don't tell me… the innocent wife is actually starting to get to you?"

Jungkook let out a low chuckle, his head falling back against the chair as he closed his eyes again, completely unfazed. If anything, he looked amused like this entire conversation entertained him more than it should have.

"God, you really don't change," he muttered, a hint of laughter still in his voice. "Relax, you're overthinking it."

His fingers tapped lightly against her waist, slow and absent, like the conversation didn't hold much weight for him.

"I'm not overthinking," Raven shot back, giving him a slight push as she leaned away just enough to look at him properly. "You are dragging it and it's weird… especially coming from you."

"It's not dragging," he replied, opening his eyes just enough to glance at her, his tone steady. "I just haven't finished what I started." With a faint smirk on his lips he added, "and trust me, when I'm done… you'll know."

Raven tilted her head, a mocking smile playing on her lips.

"Done?" she spat. "It's already been six months. You said three. How long are you planning to stretch this? And honestly… seeing you tied up with a girl like that, barely even reaching out to me—" she let out a small scoff, "it almost looks like she's actually managed to get through that frozen heart of yours."

Jungkook opened his eyes slowly, lifting his head from the back of the chair as he looked at her, as if she had just said something mildly amusing. A quiet chuckle slipped past his lips, edged with something sharper than amusement.

"Me?" he repeated, almost under his breath, like the idea itself didn't even deserve to be said out loud. "Feeling something?" A faint scoff followed, enough to dismiss it completely. "You're reaching," he added, his gaze settling on her properly now, fully unimpressed, as if the conversation had already bored him. "Don't start building stories where there aren't any."

His hand tightened slightly around her waist, not out of reaction but control. A subtle reminder of his presence.

Raven didn't pull away this time. Instead, she watched him closely, her expression shifting–not convinced, but not entirely dismissing it either. She knew him too well to take his words at face value and just as well to recognize when he was deliberately shutting something down.

"You can't blame me for saying it out loud," she said, quieter now, her tone less mocking and more pointed. "That's not like you. You don't usually waste time unless there's a reason."

That made his jaw shift, just slightly.

He leaned back again, his eyes drifting away from her for a moment, as if deciding whether this conversation was even worth continuing. When he spoke again, his voice dropped, carrying a darker edge beneath it.

"It's not about wasting time," he said. "It's about finishing things properly." There was no humor left in his tone now. "And I don't leave things halfway."

Raven studied him for a moment, then tilted her head slightly before letting out a soft sigh. She could never quite understand this man—he was always just out of reach, even when he was right in front of her.

"Finishing things properly…" she repeated under her breath, almost tasting the words. "You've always had a strange way of defining 'finishing things properly,'" she continued, her voice low, edged with quiet curiosity as she shifted slightly on his lap, adjusting the distance between them as her fingers lifted to rest lightly against the side of his neck. "Most people would've gotten bored by now… with all of this. I don't understand how you haven't—especially when it comes to her."

Jungkook didn't respond immediately. His gaze drifted for a second, unfocused, before returning to her. There was nothing readable in his expression -no amusement, no irritation… just a calm, unsettling detachment.

"I'm not most people," he said simply.

And that was it. No effort to justify himself. Just a flat, final statement.

Raven exhaled softly through her nose, shaking her head slightly, as if she had expected nothing less.

"Yeah… That's the problem." she murmured, almost to herself. "I just don't get it, you're putting this much effort into something that was never even your thing. What's so special about her that you're still dragging this out? You could've shown her exactly where she stands in a second… but instead, you're wasting your time."

A faint smirk touched Jungkook's lips—not for show this time but more deliberate.

"It's not about her anymore," he said, voice lowered slightly, something darker settling beneath it. "It's about knowing exactly how far I can take it… how much she'll endure before she finally gives in completely."

Raven's brows pulled together at that, her expression shifting, obviously not impressed.

"And what?" she asked, a hint of disbelief slipping through. "You're just going to keep pushing until she breaks? Seriously? You're basically waiting for her to walk away… but what if she doesn't?"

Jungkook let out a quiet scoff, his grip tightening slightly as his fingers brushed along her side in a slow, absent motion.

"Then she doesn't," he replied, completely unbothered. "She stays or she leaves—it doesn't change any shit for me. I've already done what I needed to do. I'm not forcing her to stay. She's here because she chooses to be. And if she's willing to take it…" his lips curved slightly, "…then that's on her and the part I enjoy? That doesn't stop either way."

A faint pause as he searches for her reaction.

His hand moved lightly against her arm, almost casual. "So I don't see why you're so bothered."

Raven held his gaze for a moment, something unreadable flickering in her eyes before she finally pulled back slightly.

"Just don't drag me into whatever this is," she said, her tone turning sharper again. "I don't like being stuck on the sidelines."

She tried to shift off his lap, but before she could move fully, his hand caught her, pulling her back against him. A soft gasp escaped her as her hands instinctively pressed against his chest.

Jungkook's eyes locked onto hers, darker now, more intense. "You're not on the sidelines," he said quietly.

Raven paused, her breath uneven for a second. "Then where am I?" she asked.

His gaze didn't leave hers. His hand slid slowly along her hips, drawing her closer until there was barely any space left between them.

"Exactly where you've always been."

⋆༺𓆩✞𓆪༻⋆𝔙 𝔦 𝔰 𝔦 𝔬 𝔫  𝔦 𝔫  𝔇 𝔞 𝔯 𝔨⋆༺𓆩✞𓆪༻⋆

It was morning again. A new day had started but as always, there was nothing new about it. Every day felt the same— something she simply had to endure, something she prepared herself to get through. And today was no different… or at least, that's what she told herself.

She stood quietly in the kitchen, making herself a cup of coffee while the maid moved around silently, preparing breakfast for Jungkook.

Evie had stopped doing it herself a long time ago. She had stopped taking responsibility for the house, stopped involving herself in chores that once felt like part of her role. What was the point? Being treated the way she was and still exhausting herself just to serve him? No. She wasn't that desperate, not that willing to drain herself for someone who gave nothing in return.

She hadn't spoken to him in days. And he hadn't tried either. After their last fight, his ego and anger had built a wall thick enough to keep any conversation out. And honestly, she didn't mind it anymore. His silence was easier to deal with than his words. At least this way, she didn't have to face him.

Still… something about today felt different. She couldn't quite place it, but there was a quiet awareness sitting at the back of her mind —like she was waiting for something, even if she didn't want to admit it to herself.

Jungkook was already at the dining table, dressed for the office, speaking on the phone in his usual cold, businesslike tone. His voice carried a sharp focus as he discussed something work-related, barely pausing to breathe. His eyes moved between the files placed beside his breakfast plate while the maid silently served him his food. He didn't look up, didn't acknowledge anything around him, completely consumed by his work.

She walked past the living room with her coffee mug in hand, her face neutral, barely sparing him a glance. Jungkook stood from his chair to get better signal reception, still speaking into the phone, his attention completely elsewhere. A soft gust of wind slipped in through the open balcony door, lifting one of the important pages from the table and sending it drifting gently to the floor.

She noticed it.

For a moment, she ignored it. She didn't want to touch his things, didn't want to give him another reason to snap at her. He could take care of his own work. But then another page shifted, edges lifting with the breeze, threatening to scatter further.

With a quiet breath, she gave in.

Instinctively, she walked over, placing her mug carefully on the edge of the table before bending down to pick up the fallen paper. She didn't want anything to go wrong—not when he was already on edge most days. She placed the page back neatly, aligning it with the rest, pressing it down lightly so the wind wouldn't catch it again.

But in that small moment, between fixing the papers and turning away, her hand accidentally brushed against the coffee mug.

It tilted, for a second, it balanced dangerously on the edge, then slipped.

The mug tipped over, and before she could react, the hot coffee spilled straight onto the documents.

Her heart dropped instantly.

A sharp gasp left her lips as she froze, staring at the mess spreading in front of her. The dark liquid soaked through the pages, the edges curling slightly as the heat seeped in.

"Oh no… no…"

Her hands moved quickly, almost clumsily, as she grabbed tissues from the dining table. Her fingers trembled as she pressed them against the paper, trying to soak up the coffee, trying to undo what had already happened. But the more she tried, the worse it became.

The ink began to bleed.

Words blurred into dark, spreading stains, lines dissolving into unreadable patches. The paper softened under her touch, crumpling slightly as it absorbed more of the liquid.

"No… no, no…" she whispered under her breath, panic rising quickly in her chest. Her breathing turned uneven as she tried again, dabbing faster now, more desperately, as if she could somehow fix it if she just tried hard enough.

But it was already ruined.

Her throat tightened. She hadn't meant to do this. She really hadn't. She had only wanted to fix things, to avoid creating a problem. Not this. Not something that would make him angry again. Not something that would lead to another argument.

And then he came back.

He stepped into the room, his phone still in his hand as he ended the call while walking toward the table. At first, he didn't notice anything. His attention was elsewhere, his expression still carrying the sharp focus from his conversation.

But then his eyes fell on the documents. The soaked, crumpled pages.

His body went still.

And in a matter of seconds, his expression shifted– confusion flickering first, then disbelief…and then, slowly, into pure, visible rage.

"What the fuck…" he muttered under his breath as he stepped forward and grabbed the wet paper, his fingers tightening around it as if that alone could undo the damage.

Evie looked up at him immediately, startled by his presence. Her heartbeat had already started racing, but she forced herself to speak clearly, even as her hands remained slightly unsteady.

It was an accident," she said quickly, her voice tense. "The wind knocked the papers down—I was just putting them back. The mug tipped over, I didn't even realize—"

"You did what?" he cut her off sharply, his voice rising as he looked at the ruined document in his hands.

Evie's jaw tightened for a second. She could feel the panic creeping in, but she forced herself not to shut down.

"I said it was an accident," she repeated, a little firmer now. "I wasn't touching your things for no reason. The papers were falling."

"What the fuck were you doing near my files in the first place?!" he snapped, his voice loud, cutting through the room. "Are you blind or do you just not listen? How many times have I told you not to touch my stuff?"

Her brows pulled together at that, something in his tone clearly hitting a nerve now.

"I understand this is important," she said, trying to keep her voice steady despite the tension rising in her chest. "And I get why you're upset. But don't act like I did it on purpose—and don't talk to me like that."

For a second, that only seemed to make it worse.

Jungkook let out a sharp scoff, holding up the damaged paper as stepped towards her.

"Important?" he repeated. "You have no idea what this was." His grip tightened around the sheet, the damp edges crumpling further under his fingers. "Do you see this? This isn't something you just fucking 'fix.' It's done."

Evie's eyes flickered to the document, her stomach tightening at the sight. She stepped forward instinctively, reaching out just a little.

"Let me see—maybe it's not completely—"

He pulled it back immediately.

"Don't," he said sharply, his tone dropping more controlled. "Just don't touch it anymore." he continued, his voice rising. "You fucking ruined it and now you think I have time to redo everything because you couldn't stay out of something that doesn't concern you?!"

It wasn't anything new. He always found a way to twist things, to turn every situation against her. She knew the file must have been important—but the way he was accusing her, like she had done it on purpose…

"Stop this," she said, her voice firm despite the tension building inside her. "Stop turning everything against me. I already told you—it was an accident and now at this point you're seriously overreacting."

That overreacting word hit him.

Something in his expression darkened instantly. The anger that had already been there seemed to snap.

Before she could even react, he stepped forward and grabbed her shoulders, shoving her back. His fingers dug into her skin hard enough to make her wince, a sharp hiss escaping her lips.

"Overreacting?" he repeated, his voice low but burning. "You're saying I'm overreacting?" His eyes narrowed dangerously. "I get it now—you did this on purpose."

"What?!" The disbelief on her face was immediate, her brows knitting together. "Are you serious—"

He cut her off with a scoff, shoving her away.

"Don't act innocent," he snapped. "I know your type. Always playing the victim. Acting all sweet while screwing everything up behind the scenes." His lips curled in disdain. "Wouldn't be surprised if you did this intentionally just to get under my skin. Pathetic."

She stared at him, stunned.

Was he actually serious?

How could someone think like that? How could he jump to something so absurd so easily? She wasn't like him— she didn't hurt people just because she was angry. That was his way, not hers.

Her eyes burned as tears gathered, but this time, it wasn't just hurt. It was anger.

"Are you even listening to yourself?" she snapped, her voice shaking but not backing down. "People make mistakes. Not everything is some calculated move like you think and seriously—you think I did this on purpose? For what? What would I even get out of something like that? I'm not like you. I don't go around hurting people just because I feel like it."

That hit a nerve.

His jaw clenched instantly, his expression turning darker. He hated this— hated the way she was standing her ground, the way she wasn't shrinking back like before.

In a second, he stepped forward again, grabbing her arm roughly and yanking her toward him. The sudden force made her gasp, her body stumbling forward as his grip tightened painfully around her wrist. He twisted her arm just enough to make her cry out.

"What did you just fucking say?" he hissed, his voice dangerously low. "You think you can talk back now? After ruining my morning?"

She tried to pull her arm free, her face tightening with pain. "Jungkook… stop," she said through clenched teeth, her voice strained. "You're hurting me—just let go!"

But he didn't.

"I warned you," he continued, his grip only tightening. "Not to touch my work. But you never listen, do you? Always so damn stubborn. Acting like you're above everything." His eyes bore into hers. "You really think I won't take it further?"

Her breath hitched as she struggled against his hold, her other hand instinctively gripping his wrist, trying to ease the pressure.

"Jungkook…," she said again, her voice breaking. "You're… hurting me."

He leaned closer, his face inches from hers, his voice dropping more threatening.

"Maybe it should hurt more," he muttered. "Since you don't seem to understand anything otherwise. Next time, just accept your mistake and keep your mouth shut."

And then, just as suddenly he let go.

The force of it pushed her backward. She stumbled, a sharp gasp leaving her lips as her back hit the edge of the coffee table. The impact made her wince, and her coffee mug tipped over again, spilling what little remained onto the floor.

She barely noticed.

Jungkook had already turned away, muttering curses under his breath as he grabbed his things without another glance at her.

And then he walked out.

Leaving behind the silence and everything else he had just done.

For a few seconds after he left, she didn't move.

It was like her body hadn't caught up with what had just happened.

Her arm still throbbed where his fingers had dug in, a dull, spreading ache that pulsed under her skin. She instinctively wrapped her other hand around it, pressing lightly as if that could ease the sting but it didn't.

The room felt too quiet.

Her gaze slowly dropped to the floor, to the broken pieces of her coffee mug scattered near the table, to the dark stain spreading across the ruined papers. Everything looked like a mess. And for a second… it felt like it matched exactly how she felt inside.

Her fingers trembled.

She tried to steady them, curling them into her palm, but it didn't stop. Her breathing felt uneven, shallow, like she couldn't take a full breath no matter how hard she tried.

Slowly, almost mechanically, she pulled out a chair and sat down.

The moment she did, the strength she had been holding onto slipped.

Her elbows rested on the table, and after a second of hesitation, she lowered her head into her hands.

The tears came quietly.

Her shoulders shook faintly as she tried to keep it contained, small sniffles breaking through despite her effort to stay silent. It wasn't just the pain in her arm–it was everything. The way he spoke. The way he looked at her. The way he always turned things against her, no matter what she did.

She pressed her lips together, trying to stop the sound, but another breath hitched out anyway.

It hurts. Not in one place but everywhere.

And the worst part… wasn't even what he had done just now. It was how familiar it was starting to feel.

The maid, who had seen more than she probably should have, quietly stepped out of the house. She didn't say anything, didn't even try to comfort her. Maybe she knew her presence would only make things worse. Or maybe she had seen enough of these mornings to know how they ended. So she left, leaving her in that heavy silence, alone with the wreckage of her emotions.

Time passed slowly. The house was quiet again–too quiet. The kind of quiet that made the pain louder.

Suddenly, her phone rang.

Evie lifted her head quickly, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. She took a shaky breath, forcing herself to stay calm. She got up and walked to the kitchen where her phone was still charging on the counter. When she saw the name on the screen, her heart skipped a beat. Dad.

She wiped her face again, took another deep breath, and walked back to the dining chair before answering the call. Her voice was small. "Hello?"

Her father's voice came through, full of cheer and warmth. "Good morning, my sweetheart! How are you doing?"

She smiled weakly, even though he couldn't see her. "Good morning, Dad. I'm fine… just about to have breakfast."

There was a pause, and then his voice grew a little concerned. "You sound different. Everything okay? Are you feeling sick?"

She quickly shook her head, as if that would help hide the truth. "No, no… it's just cold. Nothing else." She fought the lump in her throat, trying not to break down. She couldn't. Not in front of him especially on the phone.

"And where's Jungkook? How's he treating you, huh?" her father asked in that lighthearted tone he always used when he wanted her to feel safe. "I hope everything's going well over there."

Evie's heart twisted. She forced a soft laugh, playing along with the illusion. "He just left for work a few minutes ago. And everything's… absolutely okay." Her voice cracked slightly, but she prayed he wouldn't notice.

Her father went on, his voice filled with warmth. "Well, I called for a reason. Happy birthday, my daughter! Many, many happy returns of the day. You're growing up so fast–it feels like just yesterday you were that little spoiled girl who refused to listen to me."

Evie froze. For a second, she had forgotten it herself. Her birthday. That small moment of joy vanished under the weight of everything that had happened this morning. She blinked slowly and the tears returned before she could stop them.

"You… you remembered?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Of course I did," he said, pretending to sound offended. "How could I not? You're my daughter. Isn't it obvious? You're turning into a beautiful woman from that mischievous little tornado I used to chase around the house."

That was it.

The wall she was holding up inside finally cracked. A sob escaped her lips. She turned away slightly, covering her mouth with her hand, but she couldn't stop the crying now. The emotion was too heavy, too full. Her father paused on the other end, his tone changing immediately.

"Evie? Hey, sweetheart… what's wrong? Why are you crying?" he asked softly.

She couldn't lie anymore. Her voice broke as she said, "I… I miss you, Dad. I miss you so much…"

"Oh, sweetheart," he sighed gently, trying to soothe her. "Don't cry, okay? Not on your birthday. You know the saying—if you cry on your birthday, you'll cry the whole year!" he tried to joke, his voice light, trying to lift her up again. "I miss you too, believe me. These nurses here are so strict… no one makes my coffee like you do."

Evie smiled through her tears, but her heart was aching so badly.

"But you know what makes me happy?" he continued. "Knowing my daughter is happy. Knowing she's with someone who loves her. Jungkook's a gentleman. I can tell. And I just know he'll make your birthday unforgettable. He better be planning something special today."

She looked down at the cold table, at the torn pieces of what should have been a peaceful morning. Her throat felt tight. This was the first birthday she had ever spent away from her father. He used to wake her up with a cake in bed, even when she was far too old for it. He made her feel like a princess every year without fail.

And now here she was, hiding bruises behind silence, pretending everything was fine so he wouldn't worry.

She barely spoke, just whispered, "I miss you… so much…"

He sighed again, gentler this time. "I'll try to come visit soon, alright? Maybe next week if the doctors allow me. But hey, this year, you get to celebrate with your husband. That's something new, right? Don't cry anymore. Go get ready. Make some plans. Let Jungkook pamper you. It's your day today."

She didn't answer. She couldn't.

Her father's words were full of love and hope—but they were built on a lie. He still believed she was happy here and still thought Jungkook was the man he claimed to be. And she couldn't bring herself to break his heart with the truth. So she stayed quiet, biting her lip hard to keep from breaking again.

Eventually, she whispered a soft goodbye, barely audible. "Bye, Dad…"

And as the call ended, the silence returned. Only now, it felt heavier. She sat there for a long time, crying quietly–not just from the pain, but from the loneliness, the weight of pretending everything was okay when it was anything but.

Because today was supposed to be special.

But instead, it just reminded her how far away everything good had gone.

She remembered her last birthday so clearly almost just one year ago and yet it felt like another lifetime.

When Jungkook confessed his feelings to her, the day he'd taken her out for the first time, it had been warm, meaningful to her. They had dinner together, he had cracked his usual jokes, teased her until she blushed like Tomato . After dinner, he took her to the balcony of that luxury hotel and  he gave her a small red box. Inside was a heart-shaped chain. He whispered while hugging her back and said, "Don't ever take this off, okay?"—and she hadn't.

Even now, she still wears it, like it was the last piece of the man she once loved. That birthday had been special, something she carried close to her heart.

But today… today felt nothing like those days.

He didn't even remember.

And honestly, she had convinced herself that it didn't matter anymore—that whether he remembered her birthday or not, it wouldn't change anything for her. It shouldn't have. Not after everything. But for some reason, it still hurts.

Worse than she expected.

Worse than she wanted to admit.

It didn't make sense to her. It was just a birthday– something she had already stopped caring about. She hadn't expected anything from him, not even a simple acknowledgment. So why was she crying like this? Why did it feel like something inside her had cracked all over again?

She had already made up her mind. She was preparing to leave, to walk away from all of this— from him, from the constant tension, from the way he had turned everything into something suffocating and unbearable. Especially him.

So why did this still affect her?

Maybe it wasn't about the birthday at all.

Maybe it was about everything that came with it.

Her father… who still believed she was happy. Who thought her marriage was safe, stable, something good. He had hope in his eyes every time they spoke, asking if she was doing well, if everything was fine. And she always said yes.

She didn't know how she would ever tell him the truth.

She didn't know how to say that the life he thought was secure for her… was the very thing she was trying to escape.

Maybe that was why it hurt so much.

Not the forgotten birthday—

But the weight of everything she was carrying alone.

†

Morning faded into afternoon and then slowly into evening. The house remained still, quiet, painfully empty. She couldn't bring herself to eat much; her appetite had vanished sometime after breakfast. The only thing that touched her that day was her father's phone call and that had already left her in tears.

By late afternoon, she was still lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, numb. The light from the setting sun scattered through the window, making soft shadows across the room, but she didn't move to switch on the lights. There was no need to brighten up anything. Darkness felt more honest.

The silence was finally broken by the sound of the doorbell.

She slowly got up, wondering if Jungkook had returned or maybe it was someone else. When she opened the door, no one was there, just a parcel sitting at her doorstep. Her name was written neatly on top. Confused, she picked it up and brought it inside.

When she opened the package, she found a small box of neatly packed food… and a cake. A simple cake with 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' written across it in soft, careful handwriting. Her eyes blinked at it in confusion.

Who would send her this?

And then, her phone rang.

She glanced at the screen—Ethan. For a second, she hesitated. Then, she picked it up, pressing the phone gently to her ear.

"Hello?" her voice came out soft, almost unsure.

"Hey," Ethan said on the other end, his tone calm and kind. "Did you get the parcel?"

Evie blinked, her eyes drifting toward the box that opened on the table in front of her. "That was… from you?"

"Yup it's from me," he replied. "And Happy birthday, Evie."

Her heart clenched at those two simple words.

Happy birthday.

No one else had said them except for her father. And hearing them now– spoken so sincerely made her chest feel unbearably tight. She didn't answer right away, afraid that if she did, her voice would break completely.

After a moment, she managed to whisper, "How do you even know?"

Ethan gave a quiet laugh. "I saw it a while ago. In the office paperwork, actually. And you mentioned it to my wife once, remember? She doesn't forget things like that."

Evie didn't remember saying anything at all. But maybe she had. Maybe she had let it slip on a better day, when things didn't feel so heavy.

"My wife made everything," Ethan added, his voice lightening. "The food, the cake. She was going to come by and give it to you herself but something came up at the last minute. So… I figured sending it would be better than nothing."

She sat still, staring at the little cake box in front of her. Her fingers trembled as she reached out and fully opened it. The smell of fresh cream and strawberries and the words Happy Birthday–plain, simple, and warm.

She hadn't eaten much all day, because the weight in her chest had vanished her appetite. Now, the sight of the cake blurred behind a fresh rush of tears. She pressed her hand against her mouth to stifle the sob rising in her throat.

"Evie?" Ethan's voice came through gently. "Are you okay? Are you crying?"

She wiped her cheeks quickly, trying to get the words out without completely falling apart. "It's nothing," she murmured. "I just… thank you. It really… means a lot. More than you know."

Ethan didn't say anything for a second. He actually knows the reason for her crying as he figured something must've happened. Jungkook was off today. Snapped at everyone in the office. Ethan heard about a file being ruined at home, an important one for a meeting. So Ethan had pieced it together. Jungkook had been angry, and somehow, she had become the target of his anger–again.

"Don't cry," he said quietly, "Just because you're alone doesn't mean no one cares. You may feel like that, but it's not true. You don't need to wait on anyone to make today special. You matter. That's enough."

She looked down at the cake again, then at the neat box of food beside it. The thought of Ethan's wife making it all for her, someone they hardly knew, made her feel something she hadn't felt in a long time: seen.

"You should eat," Ethan said, quieter now. "Don't skip it. My wife put her heart into it. And get some rest, alright?"

Evie nodded, even though he couldn't see it. "I will," she whispered.

"And Evie," he added gently or more like lying, "don't wait for Jungkook tonight. He will be late again as today he has lots of workload."

Her throat tightened again, she simply whispered, "Thank you, Ethan. Really. Thank you."

They said their goodbyes, and she ended the call.

Evie sat there on the couch, staring at the small cake in front of her. The food sat on the table, still warm in its containers. She hadn't eaten anything all day but now, she slowly reached for the food and had a bite.

She didn't touch the cake for a while. She just looked at it. It felt wrong to cut it. Wrong to celebrate something that didn't feel like hers anymore. But Ethan's words came back to her—"You don't need anyone to make today special. You matter."

Eventually, she forced herself to sit up properly as she reached for the small plastic knife that had come with the parcel. Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady herself, pushing her emotions down just enough to function. Her gaze settled on the cake again, lingering there for a moment.

Then, very softly barely above a whisper, she said to herself, "Happy birthday."

Her mind drifted back to the birthdays she used to have with her father. The way he would celebrate every year, no matter what. The way he treated her like a child even when she had grown up, insisting on making the day special for her in the smallest, most genuine ways.

Those memories were warm and simple but full of love. Thinking about them brought a faint, bittersweet comfort to her chest.

They were happy days.

And remembering them made her feel something… softer.

She picked up the knife again and cut into the cake slowly. Her chest felt tight, her eyes stinging as those memories lingered but she didn't stop. She placed a small piece on the plate and took a bite.

It tasted good. Surprisingly good.

For a moment, she just sat there quietly, finishing a few more bites, then moving on to the food beside it.

And maybe that was enough.

Because at the end of it, she realized something.

It didn't matter if no one was there with her.

She didn't need anyone—especially not him—to make this day feel complete. She could sit here, cut her own cake and eat her meal by herself.

It wasn't how she had imagined it but it was still hers.

The night dragged on, the clock ticking past midnight. Jungkook hadn't come. She hadn't really expected him to, not anymore. And honestly, she felt a strange sense of relief that he didn't. She didn't want to see his face.

She sat on the couch, leaning back against it, completely exhausted.

And somehow, in that heavy silence, her mind drifted to a memory so clear, as if it had happened just yesterday.

It was one year ago. Her birthday.

He had held her face gently between his hands, looking straight into her eyes and said, "I'm not a good man, Evie. I'm not perfect. But for you… I'll be better. I'll always be good for you."

She had believed him.

His bullshit.

More memories came rushing in—moments she hadn't thought about in a long time. The day he had confessed his feelings, the way he had looked at her with such sincerity and said, "You won't regret choosing me. I'll make you the happiest woman. I swear I will."

He had told her she was the only one who could fix him. That she could make him a better man. That he would change for her. That he would never let her down.

All of it…

Full of bullshit lies.

She had started regretting it days ago, but now it was certain. Completely certain. She regretted believing him– every word, every promise, every moment she trusted him.

And now, the last shred of hope inside her finally snapped.

She wasn't going to waste her time or her mental peace on him anymore.

He had turned her dreams into a nightmare.

And honestly, once she walked away from this marriage—away from him—she knew one thing for sure: she would never allow herself to fall into anything like this again. No relationships. No love. Nothing that could break her like this.

She was better off alone.

They were never meant to last.

And now, especially from her side—

They wouldn't.

★ ★ ★