† 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟲𝟵 †

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╭─━─━─━─━─━─╮𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟲𝟵†❝𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗗❞╰─━─━─━─━─━─╯

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

It was supposed to feel over.

That was the whole point of it, wasn't it?

Three fucking weeks had passed since Evie walked out of his house.

Three weeks since he last saw her face.

Three weeks since she packed her bags, took whatever was left of herself and left him behind without looking back.

And according to every bit of logic in his head, Jungkook should've felt relieved by now.

This was what he wanted from the beginning, wasn't it?

Raven had already drilled that reality into his head countless times over the past few weeks. She had sat across from him, looked him dead in the eyes, and told him the truth without sugarcoating a single thing.

He had gotten exactly what he wanted.

Evie suffered.

He had broken her emotionally, dragged her through his twisted version of payback and destroyed every piece of peace she once had. That had been the entire purpose behind this marriage from the start.

So why the fuck did it not feel finished?

Why did it still feel like something inside him refused to settle?

Jungkook clenched his jaw harder at the thought.

She wasn't supposed to matter anymore.

Not enough for him to think about her every day. Not enough for her absence to crawl under his skin like this. She wasn't even supposed to be worth this much mental exhaustion.

He was Jeon Jungkook.

He had status, money, power, a future people would kill for. There were thousands of women out there who would throw themselves at him without hesitation. Women far more suitable for his world than someone like Evie ever was.

So why the fuck was he still stuck here thinking about her?

Why did the thought of her leaving still burn this badly?

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, the word cutting sharply through the silence of his office.

Outside the massive glass windows, the city was slowly sinking into night. Buildings lit up one by one while endless streams of headlights moved through the streets below. People were heading home after another normal day, the city alive with noise and motion but inside his office, everything felt suffocatingly still.

The air was thick with cigarette smoke and tension, heavy enough to make the room feel smaller than it actually was.

Jungkook stood near the window with one hand tucked into his pocket and a cigarette between his fingers, staring blankly at the city below without really seeing any of it.

His mind was too loud and too chaotic.

Every thought inside his head kept crashing into the next until it felt impossible to breathe properly.

Frustration twisted deeper inside him as he took another drag before suddenly crushing the cigarette into the ashtray beside him with unnecessary force.

His jaw tightened painfully.

He was exhausted.

Exhausted from overthinking. Exhausted from replaying things he didn't even want to remember. And no matter how many times he told himself to stop thinking about her, her name kept forcing its way back into his head like some curse he couldn't escape.

Evie.

She had completely messed with his head in ways Jungkook had never experienced before, and that alone frustrated him more than anything else.

Never in his life—not even once—had he felt uncomfortable being in another woman's bed. Sex had always been simple for him–easy and detached. It was the one place where his mind usually went quiet, where nothing else mattered except pleasure and distraction. He never got emotionally involved, never overthought it, never carried guilt afterward. That was just who he was.

And Raven knew that better than anyone.

The night she came over after their conversation at the office, things had happened exactly the way they always did between them. They drank together, talked for hours and slowly the tension shifted into something physical. Raven had done what she always did–gotten close, touched him, kissed him first with that same confidence she always carried around him. And eventually it escalated further.

They had sex.

Clear and simple, at least it was supposed to be.

But the entire time, something felt horribly wrong to him.

Even while Raven was underneath him, kissing him, touching him, trying to pull reactions out of him the way she always could, his head felt completely messed up. His body was there, physically present, but mentally he felt disconnected in a way that had never happened before.

It wasn't that he didn't want sex. It wasn't even that Raven wasn't attractive enough because she was. Raven had always been the one woman capable of distracting him from literally everything else around him.

But this time, none of it worked— the entire thing felt uncomfortable. Wrong. Like he was doing something he shouldn't be doing.

And he couldn't understand why the hell he felt that way when, technically, he wasn't even doing anything wrong in the first place.

He had never belonged to anyone like that. Even before marriage, he had slept with countless women without thinking twice about it. Even after getting into a relationship with Evie, even after marrying her—he never stopped.

He continued doing whatever the hell he wanted without guilt, without hesitation, without caring how wrong it might look to anyone else.

So why now?

Why the hell was his mind suddenly making him feel like he was doing something wrong when there was absolutely nothing to feel guilty about?

And that feeling alone irritated the hell out of him.

Because Jungkook wasn't used to overthinking touch, kisses, or sex. None of it had ever been complicated for him. It always came naturally. Effortlessly. Physical attraction, pleasure, moving on–it was easy.

But that night, there was this constant pressure sitting heavily in his chest, this irritating restlessness at the back of his mind that refused to disappear no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

He didn't want to feel anything—especially not now.

There was no reason for guilt. No reason for discomfort. As Raven had said, he needed to move on instead of wasting his time over a woman who meant nothing compared to him. Evie had already left him. Within days, he'd probably receive the divorce papers anyway.

So what exactly was stopping him?

He could sleep with whoever he wanted. There was nobody left to answer to. Nobody left to care about.

And yet, the more he tried to force himself away from those thoughts, the deeper he sank into them.

That was the part truly driving him insane.

And the worst part?

Her face kept flashing through his head.

Even after she left, even after everything that happened, she still somehow managed to crawl into his mind at the worst possible moments.

He fucking hated it. Hated how much it got under his head. Hated that instead of enjoying himself, his thoughts kept drifting back to her.

It pissed him off so much that he became rougher without even realizing it, trying harder to lose himself in the moment, trying harder to force those thoughts out of his head.

But it didn't work—nothing worked.

Eventually, he just finished Raven off, forcing himself through the rest of it before pulling away and laying back against the bed in frustration, staring at the ceiling while irritation crawled under his skin. Raven hadn't noticed anything unusual or if she did, she didn't say it aloud. She simply curled up beside him afterward, completely normal, while Jungkook laid there silently feeling more mentally exhausted than satisfied.

And that alone was enough to bother him.

The next morning, Raven left thinking everything between them was fine because Jungkook never let his expression show otherwise. He acted normal. Calm and unbothered.

But the feeling only got worse after that night.

Days had passed and he still couldn't get rid of the memory of how off everything had felt. It irritated him to an unbearable level because none of it made any sense. This had never happened before—not with Raven, not with anyone.

But he refused to believe he was doing anything wrong. There was nothing wrong about it. He wasn't going to let Evie affect him like this when she was the one who had walked away from him and was probably living peacefully with her father while he sat here feeling like absolute shit for no reason.

And it wasn't guilt. It wasn't hesitation either.

He convinced himself it was just stress. Just a bad mood. Nothing more than that. That's what he kept telling himself.

She didn't affect him in any way. How the hell even could she? The thought alone almost made him scoff at himself.

And to prove it, a few days later, he went to a club and hooked up with another woman–someone completely different.

She was attractive, confident, exactly the kind of distraction he usually preferred. Getting her into his bed was effortless for someone like him and for a while, he genuinely thought maybe Raven had been right. Maybe he just needed to clear his head and get back to normal.

But the moment things turned physical again, that same feeling came back even worse than before.

It hit him right in the middle of it.

A horrible, uncomfortable feeling twisting inside his chest while he was literally inside another woman, like his body suddenly rejected the entire situation. It completely threw him off. His mood disappeared so fast it genuinely shocked him.

And that had never happened before. Ever.

He had never been the type to lose interest halfway through sex. Never been the type to leave a woman unsatisfied because of his own head getting messed up. Even when he wasn't fully in the mood, he could still separate himself from it and finish what he started.

But this?

This felt different.

Bad different.

It genuinely made him feel like he was doing something wrong and that thought alone pissed him off beyond belief because what the hell did he even mean wrong? Since when did he start thinking like that? Since when did sleeping with women suddenly make him uncomfortable?

None of it made sense.

And yet the feeling stayed.

Strong enough that he eventually stopped completely, pulled away in frustration, grabbed his clothes and left the woman there confused without even bothering to explain himself properly.

That had never happened to him before.

Not even once.

Which only made him angrier.

Because no matter how much he denied it, no matter how much he tried to distract himself, one thing had become painfully obvious—

Evie had messed his head up far worse than he wanted to admit.He hadn't seen her, hadn't heard a single word from her side in these three weeks. Nothing.

He knew she was with her father, probably settling back into her old life by now. Maybe she was even happier there, more free. She had made it painfully clear that she wanted a divorce and even though he hadn't received any official papers yet, he knew it was coming. The process had probably already started.

And still, he couldn't let it go.

How the hell was she living so peacefully? So carefree? Already preparing for a divorce and ready to move on from him so easily after completely messing up his mind like this?

How the hell could she ruin his peace and then continue rebuilding her own life like nothing had happened?

That thought alone made him furious every single time it crossed his mind.

Because he couldn't even focus on his work anymore. He couldn't think clearly, couldn't live peacefully, couldn't even be with other women without his head getting fucked up in the middle of it. He hadn't been functioning properly these past few weeks while she, apparently, wasn't even affected by any of this.

His grip tightened around the edge of his desk before he finally grabbed his car keys and phone, not even knowing where he was going. He just needed to move, needed some air. Staying still was only making everything worse.

Within minutes, he was out of the building, sliding into his car and driving without any real destination.

On the road, anger kept building inside him with every passing mile. His knuckles turned white around the steering wheel. He had no right to feel this way. She left him. She was supposed to leave him. After everything he had planned, after everything he had done, it was obvious things would end like this. He still had his whole life ahead of him, didn't he?

But the thought of her leaving the city, disappearing from his world completely and building another life somewhere elsemaybe even with someone else—made something twist painfully inside his chest.

And he despised that feeling. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He pressed harder on the gas, forcing himself to focus on the road, trying to shut everything else out but her voice was still stuck in his head.

He wanted to fucking forget her, move on just like Raven told him to. Just like logic told him to but none of it was working anymore and it was driving him insane.

Eventually, he pulled up to his apartment building and parked the car.

Jungkook stepped out and made his way upstairs. The hallway was quiet, same as always, but tonight it felt strangely dull. He unlocked the door, pushed it open, and reached for the light switch.

Everything inside looked untouched—clean and perfectly in place, just the way the maid had left it earlier that day. The cushions were neatly arranged, the curtains slightly pulled open and the faint smell of air freshener lingered in the air but underneath it… there was still a trace of her scent, subtle now but barely there.

He paused near the doorway, eyes scanning the living room like some part of him still expected to see her standing there.

A deep sigh left his lips as he tried to shake off the tension crawling beneath his skin. This place used to feel like his space–comfortable and familiar but now it just felt strange, cold and lifeless.

He tossed his keys onto the table and slowly walked over to the couch, dropping onto it with a quiet exhale. Leaning back, he let his head rest against the cushion and closed his eyes. For a few seconds, he tried to breathe through it, to calm himself down, to stop the thoughts from coming but it was impossible.

Every time he shut his eyes, she was there—like his brain refused to let go of the image. Not just her face, but her voice, her words, every single thing that had happened between them.

He wasn't thinking about her... at least, that's what he kept telling himself. That he needed to move on. That he had too much going for him to be this wrecked over someone like her. That she was nothing more than a distraction keeping him from focusing on his work. But it didn't matter. Her memory had embedded itself into his system like it belonged there. Somehow, her presence had gotten under his skin, deep enough to feel like a damn disease.

He didn't fully understand it. Maybe he didn't even want to. But there was a part of him– dark, possessive, twisted– that couldn't let her go. Not when she had left his mind in complete chaos, making it impossible for him to function properly while she seemed to be living her life just fine.

She wasn't supposed to be able to walk away from him. She wasn't supposed to find peace without him while he sat here slowly losing his mind.

The sheer audacity of her—thinking she could move on and leave him behind like this—drove him insane.

His jaw tightened as the ache in his head throbbed harder. Pressing a palm against his temple, he tried to breathe through the stress building inside him, but it was too much. The silence in the apartment only made it worse. It felt as if his own thoughts were screaming in the emptiness, bouncing off the walls and coming back even louder. He let out a low, frustrated groan as the pressure in his chest continued to build. This wasn't working. None of it was helping.

He got up, walked straight to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of alcohol without a second thought. He didn't care that it was dinner time or that he hadn't eaten. Right now, the only thing he cared about was shutting off the chaos in his head. He poured himself a glass, then changed his mind and grabbed the entire bottle instead before walking back to the couch.

Sinking into the cushions again, he took a long drink, the burn barely registering. He was too numb to feel it. He took another sip, then another and another until reality finally began to dull around the edges.

But instead of fading, her image only became clearer.

It was as if the alcohol was stripping away every defense he had left, forcing him to face every unfiltered thought he had spent the last three weeks trying to bury. Her presence in the kitchen. Her footsteps in the hallway. Her silent tears whenever she thought he wasn't looking.

He hated it. Hated that she could still exist so vividly in his mind when he was trying so damn hard to forget her. She didn't deserve this much space in his head. She shouldn't have this kind of power over him. And yet, here he was—sitting alone, drunk, with a bottle in his hand and her name echoing through his thoughts in a way he couldn't shake.

He wasn't supposed to feel like this. He had never let anyone break his focus or get under his skin. His entire life had been built on control, strength, and image.

But none of that seemed to matter tonight. Not when all he wanted was to see her face. Not when all he could think about was showing up at her door, grabbing her hand, and telling her that she belonged to him, no matter what she thought.

The alcohol was starting to hit him hard now. His vision was blurring at the edges but the thoughts weren't fading anymore.

He didn't know what he was feeling or why he was feeling this way. It was something dangerously close to desperation.

The desperation in his chest kept tightening. He couldn't sit there any longer. He fucking needed to see her. Needed to do something—anything—before this feeling swallowed him whole.

Without another thought, he got to his feet, still gripping the bottle. He took another deep sip even though he was already drunk, then pushed the door open. His coordination was off, but he managed to grab his car keys and head outside. The cold air hit him immediately, but it didn't sober him up. If anything, it only made the urgency worse.

He got into the car, turned the ignition, and started driving -heading toward her father's house without even knowing why he was going, or what he planned to say or do once he got there.

His hands tightened around the steering wheel. The alcohol had dulled his senses, but not enough to silence the storm raging inside his chest. He wasn't really driving anymore- he was reacting. His foot pressed harder against the gas with every passing thought as he swerved through the mostly empty roads, recklessly speeding as if he had nothing left to lose.

He had nearly crashed twice. The tires screeched against the pavement, forcing him to jerk the wheel at the last second. But he didn't slow down. He didn't care.

His head was spinning, the alcohol mixing with the thoughts he had spent weeks trying to bury. She was everywhere in his mind. Her voice. That night with Ethan. The things she had said. The word divorce. Her tears. The rejection.

Everything kept coming back.

The memories of that night were clearer now than they had ever been.

Hated that even now, when every logical part of him was telling him to move on and forget her, he still found himself driving toward her like some desperate fucking mess.

Eventually, he reached the familiar street and parked outside her father's house.

His vision was blurred, and his balance was off. He stumbled out of the car, barely managing to stay upright. His steps were uneven, slow and heavy, as though his legs no longer wanted to cooperate, yet the need to see her kept pushing him forward.

He couldn't think properly anymore as his head wasn't in the right place. All he knew was that he wanted her. Needed her. Like she was something that belonged to him and had somehow slipped through his fingers.

The alcohol didn't calm him down. It only stripped away whatever self-control he had left.

His jaw was tight, his eyes unfocused, and his expression blank as he made his way to the front door and slammed his finger against the doorbell.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

And again.

He honestly had no idea what he was going to do now, he didn't know how she would react to seeing him, didn't know what she would say but at this point, none of that mattered because whatever reason, judgment, or restraint he once had was drowning beneath the alcohol running through his system.

†

Inside, the house was silent.

Evie lay alone on the living room sofa, a blanket wrapped around herself as she watched a random show on television. The lights were dim, making the room feel calmer. Her father was in his room resting, probably already asleep after a long day. She hadn't told him everything–just enough to explain why she had come back. Enough to get his support without completely breaking down in front of him.

It had been three weeks since she left Jungkook's house, but nothing about it felt peaceful. Every night, she cried herself to sleep. Every morning, she woke up feeling like her heart was still trapped somewhere she couldn't reach. She couldn't drown out the memories so easily. It wasn't easy to forget any of it.

She had thought that maybe Jungkook would show up, call her, scream at her, or at least try to contact her. But he hadn't. Not a single word had come from him. It only convinced her further that he had fallen out of love, grown tired of the marriage, and moved on. Maybe that alone was enough reason for her to do the same, even if it meant forcing herself through the heartbreak day after day.

She had already filed for divorce and was waiting for the process to move forward. It hadn't been easy to take that step, but it had been necessary, and she had done it anyway. She wanted to move on. She had to. There was nothing left for her in that marriage except disappointment and pain.

Ethan had helped her a lot–emotionally and even financially, something she would always be grateful for. She also had a new job lined up, though she hadn't started yet. Her father was trying his best to be supportive, even though she knew he was disappointed that she hadn't come to him sooner. But despite all of that, her mind kept circling back to Jungkook.

She still couldn't completely get him out of her head.

She hated that she couldn't and no matter how hard she tried to forget him and move on, some part of her still held on.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.

It rang once.

Again.

Then again.

She frowned, confused. It was late, and it was strange for someone to be ringing the bell like that. Maybe it was a neighbor. Maybe someone needed help. But something about the way the bell kept ringing made her uneasy.

Slowly, she stood up and walked toward the door.

When she opened it—

She froze.

Jungkook was standing there.

Her heart dropped instantly.

She didn't say a word.

Her hands tightened around the door handle as she stared at him, unable to process what she was seeing.

He looked bad—really bad. His shirt was wrinkled, partially untucked, and his hair was messy, like he hadn't even looked in a mirror before coming here.

His eyes were red, clouded by intoxication, and he could barely keep his head straight. His stance was unsteady as he leaned against the doorframe for support, and the smell of alcohol hit her nose almost immediately.

He was clearly drunk.

Completely drowned in alcohol, judging by the state he was in.

For a second, Evie could only stare at him. Her whole body froze at the unexpected sight of him, and then a wave of panic rose in her stomach. She didn't know why he was here, especially after everything that had happened. At this hour. In this condition.

It scared her to her core.

Without thinking, she immediately tried to close the door, wanting neither to let him in nor to face him. But Jungkook instantly grabbed the handle from the other side, stopping her from shutting it. Panic rising, she pushed harder against the door, trying to force it closed, but even drunk and in this state, he managed to overpower her. With more force than she expected, he shoved the door open.

The door flew wide, and she stumbled backward from the sudden force, startled as she took several steps back.

Her heartbeat instantly sped up. Just the sight of him… disheveled and drunk was enough to make panic settle deep inside her chest.

She barely managed a whisper, her voice shaky. "Jungkook...?"

He didn't answer right away, his eyes locked onto hers, unfocused but intense, and he took a step forward into the house by which she instinctively stepped back.

Still panicked, she tried again. "Jungkook... I'm asking you, what are you doing here?"

Her mouth went dry as her mind screamed at her to stay calm, but it was hard to ignore the unease crawling up her spine.

And at her reaction, he let out a quiet chuckle as he staggered farther inside. "Having a good time without me, huh?" he said, his voice low and slurred, but still clear enough to understand.

Seeing him step farther into the house, she immediately moved toward him.

"Jungkook, I don't know why you're here, but you need to leave," she said quickly, trying her best to keep her voice steady. "You're drunk,and I don't want you in my home."

But he didn't seem interested in listening. He continued walking farther inside, completely ignoring her.

His breath reeked of alcohol and his steps were uneven, but there was something stubborn and determined in the way he moved. This didn't feel like a random drunken visit. It looked like he had come with a purpose and that realization only made her panic more.

"My mind's a fucking mess. I can't even function properly," he muttered, almost mockingly as his intoxicated eyes bore into hers as he stepped closer, making her anxiety spike. "And you're just here... sleeping peacefully. Living your quiet little life."

She reached forward and pressed a hand against his chest, trying to push him back. She kept her voice calm but firm. "Jungkook, get out. I said get out. Don't make a scene here. My dad's inside and if he sees you like this, I swear he's going to—"

"I don't give a damn about your dad," he snapped, not even glancing toward the hallway. "I didn't come here to talk to him. I came here for you."

Before she could react, he grabbed the arm she had pressed against his chest and pulled her toward him hard enough to stop her from moving away.

Her heart skipped.

"Jungkook... what are you doing?" she asked quickly, panic rising in her throat.

He didn't let go as her panic didn't seem to affect him at all, he was too clouded by alcohol.

He stepped closer and kept her against him while her hands pushed at his chest, trying to create some distance between them but he was stronger and no matter how much she tried to push him away, he didn't budge.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

She could tell how drunk he was from the way he looked and the way his words slurred together, but his eyes held a different kind of intensity—not soft, not emotional but it was something else, something darker like he hadn't slept in days.

There was a sense of dominance in the way he looked at her, as though he was trying to reclaim control over something that had slipped through his fingers and it made her stomach turn, not because she was scared of him but because she knew how dangerous he could become when he lost control.

And right now he looked dangerously close to that edge.

"You've been here, living peacefully," he said, his voice low and slurred as his grip tightened around her wrist. "Meanwhile, I've been losing my damn mind. I can't sleep properly, can't focus on anything, can't even get through a single day without this shit crawling back into my head and you're just here, acting like none of it ever happened."

Her chest tightened.

She didn't know what to say. Part of her was still stunned that he was even here—standing in front of her in this state, drunk, reckless and completely uninvited.

"Why are you even here?" she asked, her voice trembling as she tried once again to push him away and pull her hand free from his grip, but he refused to let go.

He pulled her closer instead, making her stumble toward him. His breath was uneven, his grip firm.

"I'm here to take you back," he said simply, as though it were a fact and not something she had any say in. "You've spent enough time here. Had enough sweet family time with your dad. Now it's time to come home."

Was he serious right now?

Because he had to be joking.

Or maybe he had completely lost his goddamn mind, because she couldn't understand how he could stand there and say something so absurd with such confidence, as if she would actually listen to him.

Disbelief flashed across her face, quickly followed by anger at the sheer nerve he had to show up like this and speak as though he still owned her.

"You come here drunk out of your mind, acting like this, talking complete bullshit, and you think I'm just going to listen to you?" she snapped, shoving against his chest while trying to wrench her hand free. "Are you even hearing yourself right now? I'm not going anywhere with you. Not now. Not ever."

She shoved him harder, fueled by the anger rising inside her, trying once again to free her wrist from his grip but he barely reacted.

He only stumbled back slightly before tightening his hold enough to make her hiss in discomfort. His expression barely changed, though his jaw visibly tightened.

"As if you have a choice." A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he said it, mocking her and somehow, that hurt more than anything else.

She stared at him, her heart pounding violently against her ribs, her lips parting slightly in disbelief as her struggle paused for a second.

She wasn't even surprised anymore.

She had lived with him long enough. Seen enough of him to know this wasn't anything new and yet it still managed to hurt.

Because even now—when everything was different, when their marriage was falling apart, when she had finally found the courage to leave—he still hadn't changed.

He was still full of himself.

Still acting as though the world revolved around him.

Still behaving as though her feelings, her choices, and her decisions meant absolutely nothing.

He looked at her with the same entitled certainty, as if he had the right to decide things for both of them. As if she were something that belonged to him. Something he could simply take back whenever he wanted.

It wasn't arrogance anymore— it was cruelty.

And somehow, that realization hurt more than she expected.

After everything–the arguments, the emotional damage, the sleepless nights, the tears she had cried when no one was around– he still stood here acting as though this was all about him.

Before he could say another word, she shoved him hard in the chest.

He was already drunk, his balance unstable and the force caught him completely off guard and he stumbled backward, failing to steady himself properly before his back slammed into the doorframe behind him.

A sharp hiss escaped his lips as pain flashed across his face.

The impact loosened his grip and before he could recover, she yanked her hand free and stepped away from him.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are," she snapped, her voice shaking with anger, frustration, and the kind of pain that had been building for weeks. "Saying I don't have a choice—what, are you the president now? And you think I'm actually going to listen to you? Are you that crazy?! You don't get to stand here and pretend like you have any right over me."

Her eyes were glassy but she kept them wide open, refusing to cry in front of him.

He hissed as he tried to stand up straight with the help of the doorframe beside him, too drunk to keep his balance properly as he slurred out the words. "I'm not leaving without you..."

But she immediately cut him off.

"Shut up!" she yelled. "You think just because you showed up here drunk and rambling, I'm going to listen to whatever bullshit comes out of your mouth?" Her voice rose even higher. "Go back! I don't care what kind of chaos is going on inside your head. I don't care how empty your house feels. I'm not coming back to you!"

But he was too stubborn to listen, especially in this condition. He simply shook his head.

"No." The alcohol had completely taken over. "Evie, listen to me..."

But she didn't even want to hear him. She was too angry, too overwhelmed, and too worried that her father might wake up because of all the noise. She just wanted him gone.

She reached forward and grabbed his collar harshly. In his drunken state, he wasn't prepared for it and stumbled forward as she jerked him toward the door, trying to push him out.

"I don't want to listen to you anymore. This is my home now. You have no right to barge in here and start your drama. We've done this already—again and again. I'm tired. I don't want this anymore." Her voice cracked slightly as she added, "and don't bother trying to reach me again. I don't care about you anymore. And I don't want your presence anywhere near me."

That last part wasn't just for him, it was something she needed to say out loud for herself—to hear it and believe it but her words landed harder than she expected.

He didn't react when she shoved him, he just stared at her face and something shifted in his expression, as though her words had struck a raw nerve and the alcohol in his system only made it worse. It stripped away whatever restraint he had left.

His eyes darkened with something much harder to name. Her rejection, again and something inside him twisted painfully. Possessiveness. Obsession. A kind of emotional spiral he didn't even realize he was sinking into.

Without warning, he stepped forward and grabbed her wrist again, but this time it wasn't to restrain her—it was to pull her toward him.

The movement happened so fast that she wasn't prepared for it.

His other hand shot up and gripped the back of her neck, his fingers pressing firmly against her nape as he dragged her toward him and pushed her backward with his own momentum.

A second later, her back hit the door behind her with a dull thud and a startled yelp escaped her throat.

His body caged hers in completely, catching her off guard and his arms blocked any chance of escape. The heat of his breath, thick with alcohol, brushed against her face and his eyes—still clouded with alcohol—were locked onto hers with an intensity that made her stomach twist.

"You don't care about me?" he asked, his voice low, almost taunting. "You didn't think about me? Didn't want me?"

She could barely trust her own voice anymore. She didn't even try to hide how nervous she was which made her breathing become uneven.

"Jungkook... stop..." she whispered. "What are you even doing?"

His grip on the back of her neck tightened slightly, silencing her.

His jaw clenched and his voice came out rough. "What a fucking joke. Are you even sure about what you just said? Don't fucking lie to me. Don't fucking act like you didn't cry over me. Don't fucking act like I'm not still all over your mind. Don't fucking pretend like you don't still ache for me—like my name doesn't echo in your head whenever you're alone."

She swallowed hard as her throat was dry and her chest rose and fell with every shaky breath.

She despised how easily he did this—how he always found a way to get inside her head and make her feel like she was the one who was confused.

It pissed her off more than anything and yet, here she was. Speechless and overwhelmed because as much as she hated it, there was a sliver of truth buried beneath the mess he had just thrown at her and that only made her hate herself more.

She didn't answer, just looked at him, her eyes burning as tears gathered once again.

Jungkook stared right back.

His gaze lingered on her face a second longer than before, and something in his expression shifted. His brows relaxed slightly. The grip on the back of her neck loosened—not enough to let go, but enough to change the energy between them.

It wasn't control anymore, it was hesitation.

Her eyes didn't leave his. They were glossy, holding far too much emotion within them, and he could see every bit of it. Yet he couldn't look away either. It was as though those eyes had pulled him in completely, forcing emotions out of him that he usually kept buried.

He leaned in slightly, closing the distance between them until his breath fanned across her face.

"I miss you."

His voice was rough but quieter this time.

And the words made her blink, her breath caught in her throat but he didn't pull away. If anything, the alcohol in his system only pushed him further past the walls he normally hid behind.

He leaned closer, resting his forehead against hers and the contact made her flinch.

But now that he had started speaking, he couldn't seem to stop himself. The alcohol wasn't helping. It was loosening every restraint he had. He knew that if he had been sober, he never would have been able to say any of this out loud. The alcohol was doing what he never could.

And it was catching her completely off guard.

"It's been three weeks," he muttered, sounding more like he was talking to himself than to her. "Three weeks in that house... and it felt empty as hell. You think I've just been living normally? I'm not. My mind's completely messed up because of you. I tried so hard to get you out of my head, but I couldn't." His breathing grew uneven. "I miss you so much. I need you to come back to me."

His words were slurred, making them difficult to understand at times, but she understood them anyway.

The strong scent of alcohol told her exactly how drunk he was and because of that, she knew that was the only reason he was saying any of this.

His tone softened, though the edge of control still lingered beneath it—like he didn't know how to speak without trying to take charge of everything.

His eyes struggled to stay open but he forced himself to keep looking at her tear-filled gaze and yet there was something different in his voice now. Something raw, something buried so deep beneath his pride and ego that it could only surface now, with alcohol stripping away his defenses.

"I miss you," Jungkook whispered again. His eyes slipped shut for a brief second as his nose brushed against hers, causing her own eyes to flutter closed instinctively. "I'm not here to fight with you. I'm here to take you back. Come home with me..."

It wasn't a plea.

There was still that familiar weight in his voice. That unspoken expectation. That subtle demand threaded through every word.

But beneath it was something unfamiliar– something that sounded dangerously close to vulnerability… like he was barely holding himself together and didn't know how to ask for what he wanted without trying to control it.

And did any of it help her?

No.

It only made the tears gather faster in her eyes.

What terrible timing for her heart to react like this.

Her chest tightened painfully as tears burned at the corners of her eyes. She hated how easily he could still pull emotions out of her. How even now, her heart reacted before her mind could remind her of every reason she had left him.

This wasn't new. This was him. Always him.

First, he would break her, twist her emotions until she no longer knew what was real and make her feel as though she would never be enough.

Then, when she finally found the strength to walk away, he would come back with a quiet apology, drunk on guilt, loneliness, or whatever else was tearing him apart, expecting her to fix the damage he kept creating.

And every single time, it hurt more than the last. Their six-month marriage had become nothing more than a cycle of pain, apologies, and silence.

And now, here he was. After everything. After all that time. Standing in front of her and telling her he missed her—as though those three words could somehow erase everything he had done.

Unable to bear any more of it, she took a sharp breath and shoved him backward. He stumbled a few steps, and she immediately pulled herself free from his grip, forcing some distance between them. Her voice trembled, but her eyes were clear.

"How can you do this?" she asked, her voice rising in emotion. "How can you stand here and say these things like it's nothing? Like everything that happened didn't matter? Like what you did didn't break me?"

Her hands dropped to her sides as she stared at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Evie, listen to me..." He tried to reach for her but she immediately backed away from him.

"You think I wanted to leave?" Tears welled in her eyes as she shook her head. "You think I wanted to walk away from the person I loved? The person I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with?" Her voice cracked. "You made me believe I was nothing to you. You made me feel like a burden. Like I didn't belong beside you. You made me feel so small, so unwanted, that leaving was the only way I could breathe again. And now you're here—after everything—acting like none of that happened. Telling me you miss me, like that's supposed to fix it. Like that's enough." Her lips trembled. "It's not enough, Jungkook. Not anymore."

But he didn't move. He didn't back down.

The softness that had briefly appeared in his expression vanished almost instantly. That familiar darkness returned to his eyes, clouded even further by the alcohol running through his system.

"I don't give a fuck about any of that," he muttered, jaw tightening as he shook his head slowly. "I want you. That's it. You're mine, and you're coming back with me."

He reached for her again, but this time she stepped back before he could touch her. Her hand came up instinctively, ready to push him away if he tried.

"That's not how this works," she said firmly. "You don't get to throw everything aside just because you suddenly feel something. You don't get to decide how this ends, Jungkook. You can't drag me back into your mess every time you're confused."

He stared at her silently as she continued.

"You don't get to control everything–this marriage, this relationship, my life– like it all belongs to you. You can't keep thinking only about what you want while ignoring everything you've done to me." Her eyes burned. "That's so selfish and cruel."

She exhaled shakily and wiped at the corner of her eye as a tear finally slipped down her cheek.

But Jungkook didn't listen or maybe he simply didn't care.

Even after hearing every word, even after seeing her cry, he refused to back down. Instead, he stepped forward again, closing the distance between them. His movements were unsteady from the alcohol, but there was still determination behind them.

"Listen to me..." he slurred, reaching out and cupping her face despite her immediate struggle. "I'm not here to fight with you." His thumbs brushed against her cheeks as he forced her to look at him. "Don't make this bigger than it already is."

"Let go of me!" she snapped, trying to shove his hands away.

But he barely reacted.

"I'm not here to argue with you," he continued, his words slurring together. "I'm not here to make you cry. I just want you to come back with me. That's it."

Before she could react, before she could even process what he was doing, he suddenly pulled her against him and pressed his lips against hers.

The taste of alcohol hit her immediately.

For a second, shock froze her in place and then anger exploded through her.

She shoved him with all her strength.

Already drunk and off balance, Jungkook stumbled backward hard enough for the back of his head to hit the wall behind him with a dull thud and a groan escaped him.

She immediately wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, breathing heavily, her eyes filling with furious tears.

"How dare you?" she shouted, her voice echoing through the room. "How dare you touch me without my permission! I could report this," she said, her voice shaking with anger. "Do you understand that? I could call the police right now. I could have you removed from this house. You don't have any right to touch me like this."

For a moment, silence filled the room.

Jungkook leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily. His head rested against it as he slowly lifted his eyes to look at her. The alcohol had left his gaze unfocused, but he kept staring at her anyway.

Then he let out a slow breath.

"Do whatever you want," he muttered hoarsely.

And his eyes never left hers.

"Call the police or report about me." His voice was rough and tired as he continued. "I don't care. But I'm not leaving."

That only made her stare at him in disbelief.

For a second, she genuinely wondered if he had completely lost his mind.

"You don't care if I call the cops? You sure about that? Let's see how sure you are."

She definitely didn't want to get the police involved, but he wasn't listening to a single thing she said. She was afraid he might do something again because he clearly didn't look like he was going to leave without taking her with him. She wanted him out of the house immediately.

Her father was sleeping in the other room. Despite all the shouting and noise they had already made, he still hadn't woken up, thankfully because his bedroom door was closed. The last thing she wanted was for him to come out and see Jungkook like this. To get Jungkook out of here, she felt she had no other choice.

She turned toward the living room to get her phone.

But before she could even take a few steps, Jungkook reached out and grabbed her wrist again, his grip firm and unrelenting, like he had no intention of letting her go.

"You're coming with me," he muttered, his voice slurred but serious. "We're going home. Stop this bullshit. Nothing's going to work now. It's better if we both stop arguing."

"What are you even doing? Let go of me!" Evie cried, trying to pull her hand free.

She struggled against him, pushing at his chest and fighting against his grip. But Jungkook wouldn't let go. He wasn't yelling. He wasn't angry. Somehow, that made it worse. There was something far more terrifying in his quiet obsession—his complete refusal to accept her "no."

She kept trying to pull away, but he refused to release her.

"You don't get to do this again," she snapped through gritted teeth. "You don't get to show up drunk and drag me out like this. I told you I'm done!"

He didn't answer. He only tightened his grip and started pulling her toward the door.

"I swear, Jungkook, I'll call my dad!"

But he didn't stop. He didn't even seem to hear her, completely clouded by whatever obsession and alcohol had taken over his mind.

That was it.

She shouted toward the hallway.

"DAD! DAD!!!"

Then, knowing her voice might not reach his room properly through the closed door, she grabbed the vase sitting near the doorway and shoved it down.

It crashed onto the floor with a loud shattering sound.

A muffled noise came from down the hall, followed by the quick shuffle of footsteps.

Her father had been asleep in his room, only vaguely hearing the noise outside. But the sound of the vase breaking and Evie's panicked shouting pulled him from his sleep instantly.

He rushed out of bed, eyes wide with alarm, clutching the wall for support as his heart pounded heavily in his chest. He opened his bedroom door and hurried into the hallway.

Then he stopped.

Completely froze.

His eyes landed on the person standing in front of him.

Jungkook.

For a moment, he couldn't understand what was happening or why he was here. But then he took in the scene before him.

His daughter's wrist was trapped in Jungkook's grip.

"...Jungkook?" her father said, his breath catching in his throat.

Jungkook stood there in a visibly disheveled state, swaying slightly where he stood. His gaze was unfocused, his clothes messy, and the smell of alcohol surrounding him gave a clear picture of what was happening.

"What..." her father said slowly, disbelief written all over his face. "What are you doing here?"

He didn't answer at first. His attention shifted toward her father, but his grip on Evie's wrist didn't loosen.

Her father's eyes widened in disbelief as he took in Jungkook's appearance—his bloodshot eyes, unsteady posture, slurred breathing, and the overwhelming smell of alcohol surrounding him.

"What are you doing to her? Let her go."

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a firmness that immediately filled the room. Even through his shock, there was a sudden authority in his tone that Evie had never heard before.

Jungkook blinked slowly, as if trying to process the command through the haze of alcohol.

That brief distraction was enough as Evie immediately yanked her hand free and rushed to her father's side. She gripped his arm tightly, tears filling her eyes as her heart pounded violently in her chest.

Her father glanced down at her for a second before looking back at Jungkook.

The disappointment on his face was unmistakable. This was the man he had once welcomed into his family. The man he had trusted with his daughter's happiness but now, all he could see was someone who had broken her and still refused to let her go.

"What are you doing?" her father asked again, his voice rough with restrained anger. "Coming into my house in this condition and grabbing her like this? After everything you put her through? After everything she's suffered because of you?" His jaw tightened. "How dare you?"

Jungkook's lips parted as if he wanted to explain himself, but the words came out uneven.

"I... I just want to talk to her," he slurred. "She's my wife, and I... I just want to take her home."

The look her father gave him was so cold and severe that even Jungkook hesitated for a moment.

"Home?" her father repeated quietly as the word alone sounded dangerous coming from him. "You have some nerve standing in front of me and saying that. Look at yourself. You're drunk, barging into my house in the middle of the night, frightening my daughter, grabbing her against her will and you think you're here to take her home?"

Jungkook swallowed as something close to uncertainty crossed his face but his stubbornness refused to let him stop.

"She wants me," he muttered, shaking his head despite the hesitation creeping into him. "She's just …scared. She can't walk away like this... not from me. We just had arguments. She's overreacting about everything."

"Shut up!" Evie's voice cracked through the room before he could continue. "How dare you, you're literally lying straight in my face? Don't you have some shame?" she shouted, tears streaming down her face. "Go back. I'm not coming with you. Not now. Not ever. And I don't want to see you here again."

Her father felt her body shaking beside him and something inside him snapped. The pain, the fear, the helplessness of watching his daughter suffer and by all this his anger finally surfaced.

Without hesitation, he pulled Evie fully behind him, shielding her completely from Jungkook's view.

Jungkook immediately tried to step forward again but her father raised a hand as a clear warning.

"That's enough." His voice was firm enough to stop Jungkook mid-step. "You need to leave."

"I'm not going—"

"You are leaving." The firmness in his tone made even Evie glance up at him. "I am not going to repeat myself. You are no longer welcome in this house. Leave. Now."

But Jungkook, drunk and stubborn as ever, shook his head. "No."

The single word had barely left his mouth before her father's patience finally broke.

"I Said Enough!"

His voice roared through the house with such force that Jungkook visibly froze even Evie flinched and for a moment, the entire room fell silent.

Her father stepped forward without hesitation and placed a firm hand against Jungkook's chest and shoved him backward, he resisted at first, still drunk, still refusing to accept what was happening.

But her father didn't back down, his chest hurt, heart was racing as he hated being this harsh, he wasn't a violent man, he never had been but—he was a father first.

And right now, protecting his daughter mattered more than anything else.

When Jungkook still refused to move, her father shoved him again–hard enough to force him through the doorway.

Jungkook stumbled backward, nearly losing his footing as he fell outside.

Her father stood firmly in the doorway.

"You lost her and if you ever cared about her, even a little..." His eyes hardened. "You'll walk away from this house and never come back."

For a moment, Jungkook looked like he was going to argue again.

The stubbornness was still there, visible in the tension of his jaw and the glare in his unfocused eyes. It looked as though he was searching for one more thing to say, one last argument that would somehow change everything. But his body was no longer cooperating with him. The alcohol had taken too much out of him. Whatever fight remained in his pride couldn't overcome the exhaustion weighing down his limbs.

So he stood there outside swaying slightly and despite everything that had happened, his eyes remained fixed on Evie.

Her father didn't give him another chance.

The door slammed shut between them, directly in front of his face.

Jungkook stood frozen for several seconds, staring at the closed door in silence. His gaze remained locked on the wood as if he expected it to open again at any moment. As if she would come running back, take back everything she had said, and tell him to come inside.

But the door never moved and neither did she.

A sharp breath left his lungs and his jaw tightened.

Slowly, he raised his hand and slammed his fist against the door.

"Evie!" he shouted, his voice rough from alcohol and frustration. "Open the damn door."

Nothing. Only silence.

His expression darkened immediately.

He hit the door again, harder this time.

"Evie!" His voice rose. "You're really doing this? You think this is over because your father got involved? Huh?"

Still nothing.

The silence felt worse than any argument.

A scoff escape his lips.

He took an unsteady step backward, nearly losing his balance before catching himself. The alcohol was hitting him harder now. His vision blurred at the edges. The confidence that had brought him here was slipping away, replaced by dizziness, anger and humiliation.

He pressed a hand against the wall beside him to steady himself.

For several seconds, he simply stood there breathing heavily, then his expression changed as whatever vulnerability had shown itself earlier disappeared completely.

He turned away from the house and began walking down the steps, his movements uneven and careless. His fists clenched tightly at his sides as anger burned beneath his skin.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

Not for him.

Not ever.

Being thrown out was one thing.

But being rejected in front of her father, being treated like some unwanted stranger standing outside her door—it dug into his pride deeper than he wanted to admit.

And as he stumbled toward his car, one thought kept repeating in his head over and over again.

She had actually chosen to let him go.

And for the first time, that realization hurt far more than his pride ever would.

His grip tightened on his car keys as he reached the vehicle, swinging the door open and slamming himself into the driver's seat. He didn't stop to think. His knuckles were tightened around the wheel as he started the engine, slamming the car into gear.

The tires screeched against the pavement as he pulled away from the house.

The streets blurred past him, lights flashing. He didn't care, he didn't slow down. The world around him was nothing but noise. All he could hear was the echo of her voice–telling him she didn't want him. Not now. Not ever.

His foot pressed harder on the accelerator.

The speedometer climbed.

It wasn't about her anymore.

It was about losing. About being the man left outside, powerless, like some fool who begged for scraps. He wasn't used to this. People didn't say no to Jeon Jungkook. Not like that.

The steering wheel shifted slightly as Jungkook drive past a red light without slowing down.

A loud horn came from a nearby car, someone trying to avoid him, but he didn't care. He didn't even look.

His vision was starting to blur more than before as the effect of alcohol crushed within him.fully. The lights on the road were stretching and flashing like his eyes couldn't focus. His hands were still on the wheel, steady enough, but his head felt heavy and his mind was spinning. Everything around him felt off–too loud, too fast, too much.

Then–A sudden flash.

Bright headlights appeared in front of him, coming from the opposite side of the road.

There was no time to react. A screech sound of brakes came out, tires dragging against the asphalt, but it was already too late.

The crash hit hard. Metal slammed into metal with a violent impact.

Jungkook's body flew forward from the impact, only held back by the seatbelt as the car lost control. The car spun wildly, flipping over once–then again. Everything inside tossed around, and the windows shattered into pieces.

The world felt like it turned upside down.

Finally, the car slammed down hard and came to a stop, smoke rising from the wreckage.

Inside, Jungkook's head dropped forward, a cut above his eye bleeding slowly. His breathing was faint, unsteady, and shallow. His eyes were half open but unfocused, barely registering anything.

He tried to move, but nothing responded. His body felt heavy, frozen. He couldn't even figure out what part of him was hurt - it all blurred together into one numb, sharp pressure.

His fingers twitched, like they were trying to grab something, but they couldn't move properly.

His mind started to slip. The sounds around him faded. His vision dimmed.

And then—Everything went black.

★ ★ ★

—𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗏𝗈𝗍𝖾        𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗉 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍···୨ৎ

Next update will be next week. I can't promise an exact day since it depends on how much free time I have. It could be earlier or it might take a little longer. I'm not trying to keep readers waiting on purpose so please don't assume that- I simply update whenever I have enough time and feel the chapter is ready.