20

Sitting in your living room, you try to focus on the book in your hands, but the occasional clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen keeps pulling you out of the story. The scent of something delicious fills the air, making your stomach growl despite the lingering nausea you've been dealing with.

Jungkook is in your kitchen, cooking like he's done it a hundred times before, moving around with ease. You hear him mumbling to himself, probably focused on whatever he's making. It's oddly domestic—the kind of scene you never expected to share with him, yet here you are.

You shift in your seat, pretending to read, but your eyes keep wandering toward the doorway. You set your book down and make your way to the kitchen, curiosity getting the best of you. As you step inside, you see Jungkook standing by the stove, sleeves rolled up, looking completely in his element.

On the counter, there's a plate of freshly made pasta, coated in a creamy sauce with bits of chicken and mushrooms. A small smile tugs at your lips—it looks good.

"You made this?" you ask, eyeing the dish.

Jungkook smirks, handing you a fork. "Who else?"

You take a bite, the flavors melting on your tongue. It's surprisingly good. "Okay... not bad," you admit, chewing.

"Not bad?" He gasps dramatically. "I slaved over a hot stove for you, and all I get is a 'not bad'?"

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. "Fine. It's really good."

He grins, satisfied. "That's more like it."

Jungkook gently guides you to sit, making sure you're comfortable before placing the plate in front of you. He even hands you a glass of water, his usual playful smirk replaced with something softer—more attentive.

"Eat up," he says, settling into the chair beside you with his own plate.

You twirl some pasta around your fork and take a bite, savoring the creamy, rich flavor. "Okay, I take it back. This is actually amazing."

Jungkook raises a brow, clearly pleased. "See? I told you I can cook."

You roll your eyes but smile, enjoying the quiet moment between you two. For the first time in a while, things feel... peaceful. Safe.

Jungkook stares at your stomach, his expression unreadable. His eyes soften slightly, but there's something intense behind them—like he's trying to process everything all at once.

His fingers twitch on the table before he hesitantly reaches out, stopping just short of touching you. "Can I...?" he asks quietly, his voice uncharacteristically unsure.

You hesitate for a moment before nodding.

Gently, his hand presses against your stomach, barely there. His thumb strokes absentmindedly over the fabric of your shirt as he exhales a shaky breath. "It's crazy," he mutters. "There's... a baby in there."

You watch him carefully, searching his face. "Yeah... it is."

Jungkook swallows hard, still staring at your stomach. "I never thought I'd be in this position," he admits, voice barely above a whisper. "But... I want to do this right, Y/n."

Your heart clenches at his words, and for the first time in a while, you feel something close to relief.

You gently place your hand over his, grounding him. "Jungkook, I'm still really early into the pregnancy," you remind him softly. "We have time to figure everything out."

He nods slowly, his thumb still absentmindedly tracing circles against your stomach. "I know... but it already feels so real." His voice is laced with something you can't quite place—maybe awe, maybe fear, maybe both.

You sigh, leaning back slightly. "That's why we need to take things one step at a time. There's still so much to think about."

Jungkook finally looks up at you, his gaze steady. "I just don't want you to feel like you have to do this alone," he says firmly. "I'm here. No matter what."

A lump forms in your throat at his sincerity. You weren't sure what the future held, but hearing those words from him made the weight on your chest feel just a little lighter.

You glance at him, noticing how he's been avoiding the topic. "Jungkook... are you going to tell your parents?" you ask gently. "You never really mention them."

He thinks for a moment, tapping his fingers against the table. "Soon. Maybe this week? I know they'll be shocked, but they'll support me."

You nod, relieved by his response. "That's good," you say softly. "I was starting to think you had some secret family drama or something."

Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head. "Nah, nothing like that. I actually have a good relationship with them. I just... wanted to figure things out with you first before telling them."

Jungkook looks at you intently, his eyes soft but filled with concern. "So... you're saying you'll tell your parents, right?" he asks, his tone almost hesitant, as if seeking reassurance. "Because, you know, we need to be open about this... with them."

You hesitate for a moment, looking down at your hands before meeting his gaze. "I think I will. I don't want to hide from it anymore," you say softly, your voice filled with a mix of fear and determination. "But I'm scared, Jungkook. I don't know how they'll react. It's... it's a lot to take in."

You sigh, feeling a weight in your chest. "I don't know, Jungkook. When I told them I was moving here, it felt like they saw me as a child still, like I was making all these 'grown-up' decisions, but they couldn't treat me like one. Being pregnant... it just feels like another situation they won't understand."

You glance at him, your fingers lightly gripping his hand. "I'm not sure how they'll react."

You bite your lip, gathering the courage to speak again. "I've been thinking... in a few days, I'm going to stay with my parents for a little while. I just need some space to think things through, especially about the abortion situation. I don't want to make any rash decisions, but I don't know what else to do." You pause, looking at him with uncertainty. "I just... I need to figure this all out, Jungkook."

Jungkook sighs, his brows furrowing with a hint of irritation as he looks at you. "Y/n," he says, his tone firm but not unkind. "This is my baby too. You're not in this alone. I may not have all the answers, but I want to be here with you, to figure this out together. You can't just handle everything by yourself. You don't have to decide anything right away, but we need to talk about it, together."

Jungkook's expression softens as he takes a deep breath, trying to calm his frustration. "I want to be a part of this, Y/n. I want to look after our baby too," he says, his voice quiet but sincere. "I get it, you're going through a lot, but you leaving to go to your parents, it just feels unfair to me. This is something we should be doing together, not apart. Please don't shut me out. Let me be there for you."

You cross your arms, feeling a mix of frustration and confusion. "It's not like I'm shutting you out, Jungkook," you say, your voice a little sharp. "I'm just trying to figure things out. This is a huge decision, and I'm not sure what to do. I need space to think, and going back to my parents helps me clear my head."

You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "I know this is your baby too, but I'm still the one who's carrying it, and I'm the one who has to live with whatever decision we make. It's not just about us—it's about what's best for me, for us, and for the baby. I can't just rush into something without fully understanding how it's going to affect everything."

Jungkook's voice tightens as he responds, his frustration evident. "I get that this is a lot for you, but it's a lot for me too, Y/n. This isn't just your decision to make on your own. I'm the father. I deserve to be part of this process. You can't just shut me out because you're scared or confused. I'm here, I want to be here, and I want to help you through this."

He runs a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. "I've been there for you in every other situation, and I'm not going to let you push me away when it matters most. I want to be a part of this. Don't you think we should make this decision together, as a team?"

His eyes soften, but his tone is still firm. "Please, just... don't make this about you being alone in it. We're in this together."

You cross your arms, looking at Jungkook with a mixture of frustration and hurt in your eyes. "You weren't there when you decided to sleep with another girl right after you did with me," you say, your voice sharp but full of emotion. "You think you can just come in and fix everything now, but it's not that simple."

You take a breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. "I'm the one who's been dealing with everything on my own, while you were doing whatever you wanted, and now you expect me to just let it all go and believe you?"

Jungkook's expression shifts, his jaw tightening as anger flashes in his eyes. "I told you I regret that, but you keep bringing it up like it's the only thing that matters," he snaps, frustration lacing his voice. "I'm trying to be here for you now, and all you want to do is throw that in my face."

He steps closer, his tone firm. "I get that you're upset, but stop using that as an excuse to push me away. I'm here, trying to fix things—what more do you want from me?"

You take a sharp breath, frustration boiling over. "It still hurts, Jungkook!" you snap, your voice loud and full of anger. "How could you do that to me? You slept with me, then went and slept with someone else like it didn't even matter! You treated me like I was some toy to use and throw away when you were done!"

Jungkook's face twists in frustration, his anger matching yours. "It was a mistake, Y/n!" he snaps, his voice sharp. "You and I were just a favor, nothing more. Until now, I didn't know what the hell I was doing, but this? This is a mess I didn't sign up for!"

He steps back, running a hand through his hair, clearly torn. "You can't just expect me to be perfect when everything between us was never clear in the first place. Don't act like it's all my fault."

You stand up, anger boiling inside you. "You was the one who said you wanted me for the favour" you snap, your voice sharp with frustration. "Now, I'm the one who has to deal with the consequences of all of this!"

You take a step toward him, eyes burning. "You get to walk away when it gets hard, but I'm the one left to figure out what to do with this pregnancy, all while you don't even seem to care." Your voice cracks a little, but you quickly recover. "You're the one who kept things unclear, and now you want to act like I'm the problem? I never asked for this!"

He stands up, his fists clenched, clearly angry. "You think it's easy for me too?" he snaps, his voice sharp. "I'm just as confused as you are, but I'm trying to be here, trying to figure things out. You don't get to act like I'm the only one who messed up! You think I wanted this? I didn't want things to get so complicated!"

He takes a step closer, his voice low but intense. "And don't act like I'm the one who's been running away from responsibility. You think it's easy for me to deal with everything you've been throwing at me? I'm trying to step up, but you keep pushing me away. I don't even know where I stand anymore!"

You cross your arms, frustration rising in your chest. "Forget it, Jungkook," you say, your voice cold. "We can't even make it through a few days without arguing. How is that supposed to work with a baby? You think we're just going to magically get along? I can't keep doing this. It's too much."

You turn away, your back to him, trying to block out the chaos of emotions swirling inside you. "I need space, and I need to figure this out. I can't keep having these arguments every time something serious comes up."

Jungkook slams his hand on the table, his face flushed with anger. "You think this is easy for me?" he snaps, voice sharp. "I'm just as confused as you are, but you're making it harder by shutting me out. You can't just keep running away from everything we need to face together!"

He steps closer, frustration clear in his eyes. "I care about you, Y/n. I care about this baby, too. But if you keep pushing me away, I'm not going to sit here and watch you make decisions alone when this involves both of us!"

"I know I'm being stubborn," you admit, your voice cold but steady. "But you don't get it, Jungkook. I'm not just some girl who can forget everything just because you say sorry. You can't just fix this with words."

You shake your head, frustration creeping in. "You're not the one left holding the consequences. I can't just sweep this under the rug. You hurt me, and I can't pretend it didn't happen. Saying sorry isn't enough for me to just forget it all."

He sits down, running a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his eyes. "Go to your parents then," he says, his voice tight. "Leave me. But just know that I'm trying on my half." His words hang in the air, thick with unspoken feelings.

You freeze for a moment, feeling the weight of his words pressing on you. It was like a challenge, a dare for you to leave if that's what you felt you needed to do. But something in the way he said it stirs up even more anger and hurt inside you.

"Trying on your half?" you bite back, your voice trembling with frustration. "You can't just say you're trying and think that's enough! You've been so distant, Jungkook. You've barely been there for me. I'm carrying the weight of this all by myself."

You pause, taking a breath to steady yourself. "I don't know what I want anymore. But I can't keep doing this—living like this—waiting for things to change when you're not even showing me that you're willing to try the way I need you to."

The room feels like it's closing in on you, the tension unbearable. You take another step back, but you're torn. You want to leave, but the emotional weight of this conversation is too much.

The sound of the door slamming behind you makes you flinch, your heart sinking as the weight of the moment hits you. For a moment, you just stand there in shock, unsure of what to feel—relief, anger, or sadness.

The silence in the room feels suffocating, and the realization settles deep in your chest: Jungkook walked out, leaving you alone to face everything. You never imagined it would end like this, with you standing there, feeling abandoned and misunderstood.

You stare at the closed door, tears threatening to spill, but you hold them back, clenching your fists in frustration. You don't know what comes next, but right now, you feel like you're left with nothing but the weight of your decisions and his absence.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, but you don't move to check it. You're tired of trying to reach out when it feels like no one is really listening.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. With shaky hands, you grab your bag and start throwing clothes in without much thought, focusing on the task at hand. The anger and sadness mix within you, but you push them down, telling yourself it's time to move forward, even if you don't know what comes next.

You don't think twice as you grab a few essentials—clothes, toiletries, your phone charger—and stuff them in your bag. Every movement feels mechanical, like you're going through the motions, not sure if it's the right decision but doing it anyway.

You pause for a moment as you look around your room, the silence weighing heavily on you. Jungkook's absence stings, but you've made up your mind. No more waiting around, no more being unsure. You need space, time to think, and to clear your head.

With one last glance at your room, you head for the door. You're not sure when you'll be back, or what's waiting for you outside, but you know you need to leave.

You take a deep breath, trying to push aside the emotions swirling inside you. Your hands are trembling slightly as you dial your mom's number, but you force yourself to sound calm and cheerful when she picks up.

"Hey, Mom! I'm coming today," you say, trying to make your voice sound steady, even though you're not sure if it's convincing. "Just wanted to let you know I'll be there by tonight."

You try to keep it light, as if everything is fine, but your heart is pounding. You can feel the weight of the conversation you're avoiding, but for now, you need to focus on getting out.

"I'll see you soon, okay?" You give a quick, forced smile into the phone before hanging up, trying to block out the knots in your stomach.

You quickly grab your bag and leave the house, stepping out into the crisp air. With a sense of urgency, you pull out your phone and find a nearby taxi service. After a few moments, you manage to book a ride to the train station, hoping the driver arrives soon.

The minutes feel like hours as you stand there, feeling both relieved and anxious. You try to keep yourself composed, but your mind keeps drifting back to everything that just happened—Jungkook, the arguments, the uncertainty.

Soon enough, the taxi pulls up, and the driver rolls down the window to greet you. You slide into the back seat, sinking into the seat as the car starts moving, taking you away from it all.

As the city lights blur past, you can't help but wonder what's going to happen next.

The ride is quiet, the only sound being the hum of the car and the soft rustling of the wind outside. As the city passes by, your thoughts race through everything that happened—Jungkook's anger, his hurt, and your own confusion. The argument you had felt like a whirlwind, emotions flying in every direction, and now, as you sit in the back of the taxi, it all feels so distant yet painfully close.

You think about the baby, the future, and what your next steps should be. You never imagined yourself in this situation. Part of you wishes things could've gone differently, but there's also a part of you that feels like you've made the right decision, even if it's hard to fully accept.

The moment when you told Jungkook you were leaving still echoes in your mind. It was like the weight of everything settled on your chest, and now, sitting here, you can't shake the feeling that something big is about to change, and you have no idea what's coming next.

You glance out the window, watching the streets fade into the distance as you head toward your parents, hoping that being there will give you some clarity.

You knew you were being stubborn. It was hard to admit, but deep down, you recognized it. However, Jungkook saying he was sorry just wasn't enough for you. After everything—his actions, the way he treated you, the way he went to someone else right after everything you two had shared—it hurt too much. Sorry didn't erase the pain. Sorry didn't take away the feeling of being thrown aside for someone else, like you didn't matter.

Maybe you expected more. Maybe you thought he'd fight harder or show you in some way that he cared. But now, as you sat in the taxi, you couldn't deny that your trust had been shattered, and it was hard to see any way forward with him that didn't feel like you were constantly second-guessing everything.

You weren't asking for perfection, but you needed something more than just words. You needed actions, and he had failed to show that. That's why you made your decision, even if it felt like the hardest thing you'd ever done.

You step out of the train, the cold air hitting your face as you make your way into the station. Your eyes scan the departure boards, looking for your train to Gangneung. It feels like everything is moving in slow motion—like you're trapped in a moment where you just want to disappear for a little while. You need the time to think, to get away from everything, to escape the mess you've found yourself in.

Your heart aches with every step you take, the weight of the decision to leave Jungkook heavy on your shoulders. But in a way, this is the only choice you feel like you have. You need space to breathe, to be alone, to process the whirlwind of emotions that keep swirling inside of you.

You finally spot the platform number and head in that direction, your legs moving on autopilot as your mind races with thoughts of what you've left behind. The sound of the train pulling into the station brings you back to reality. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, and climb aboard the train.It's a long ride ahead, but you know you need this time. You need the distance.

Jungkook paced back and forth in his house, the door he had slammed behind him echoing in his mind. He knew walking out wasn't the best choice. He regretted it the minute he did.

Every word he said, every angry response, felt like a slap to the face of everything he was trying to protect. He was angry, yes, but deep down, he knew it wasn't just about the fight or the situation—it was about fear. Fear of what he was about to lose, fear of what this all meant for him and you. But instead of talking it through, he let the emotions get the best of him.

He knew he had messed up.

He tried calling you, multiple times, but each time his calls went unanswered. His frustration grew, but so did the guilt. He was scared—scared of being a father, scared of being the person you needed, scared of the future he didn't know how to control.

But walking away? That was the worst mistake he could have made.

He thought about you, sitting at the station, heading to your parents. He thought about your words, the hurt in your voice. He thought about how things were Jungkook sat on the couch, his frustration building. He was angry—not just at the situation, but at you too. Every time he tried to apologize, every time he tried to explain, you pushed him further away.

He knew he messed up. He knew he hurt you. But the more he tried to show remorse, the more you pulled away from him, and it just left him feeling helpless.

He wanted to be there for you, he wanted to make it right. He wasn't perfect, far from it, but the constant pushback was wearing him down. Every apology seemed to fall on deaf ears, and it stung. He didn't know how to fix it if you wouldn't let him close enough to try.

The argument earlier wasn't just about the baby—it was about you. About him feeling like you were slipping away, even though all he wanted was to be there for you. But you made it clear, your walls were up. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't break them down.He was stuck.

Jungkook felt the anger rising in him again as he thought about everything that had happened. It wasn't just the fight, or the hurtful things said. It was the fact that you were making a decision about the baby as if he didn't have a say in it. As if he wasn't going to be a part of this, as if his feelings didn't matter.

He wanted this baby. He knew that. And he didn't want you to make this choice alone.

The thought of you going to your parents, leaving him behind—when he wanted to be there, to help, to figure this out together—it stung. He wasn't going to just sit on the sidelines and watch. He wasn't going to let you make decisions that affected both of you without even considering his feelings.

It wasn't just about the baby anymore. It was about you, about him, about the life you two could have if you were willing to face things together. But you kept pushing him away, acting like he wasn't important in all of this. And it hurt. It hurt more than anything else.

Jungkook sat up on the couch, his mind racing. The thought of calling his parents and telling them about the pregnancy seemed overwhelming, but it was something he had to do. He couldn't keep hiding it, especially when it was affecting everything. He wanted to do this right—he wanted to be a man about it.

His hand hovered over his phone, trying to think of the best way to tell them. He could already hear his mother's voice in his head, asking him why he hadn't said anything earlier. How could he explain everything that had happened? How could he explain how he felt about you, how he wanted this baby, how much he was trying to figure everything out despite the mess?

As the train pulled into the station, you felt a rush of excitement mixed with nerves. It had been a while since you'd been back home, and the thought of seeing your family made you feel a little lighter. The weight of everything you'd been carrying over the past few days still lingered, but the familiarity of home had a soothing effect on you. It was like stepping back into a world that felt safe, where you could take a breath and just be.

You grabbed your things and made your way off the train, looking around for your parents or someone who might be there to greet you. As you walked through the station, you couldn't help but feel a small sense of relief. No matter what was going on in your life, your family had always been there for you.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you glanced at it, seeing a message from Mina asking how things were going. You quickly typed out a reply, reassuring her that you were okay for now and just needed some time to think.

As you made your way out of the station, you spotted your mom waiting near the parking lot, her face lighting up when she saw you. She waved, and you smiled back, feeling a sense of warmth wash over you.

"Y/n!" she called, rushing toward you to give you a big hug. "It's so good to see you. How was the trip?"

You smiled, trying to hold back a few tears. "It was good, just... a lot on my mind. But I'm glad to be home."

She pulled back a little, studying your face. "You look like you've been through a lot. Come on, let's get you home. We'll talk over some tea, okay?"

You nodded, feeling like you had made the right decision by coming home. The stress and confusion were still there, but for now, being with your family felt like the best place to start healing.

As you stepped into the house, the familiar scent of your mom's cooking and the cozy warmth of the home enveloped you. The creaky floorboards, the way the living room was arranged just like it always had been — it all felt comforting in a way you hadn't realized you missed. It was like stepping back into a time when things were simpler, when the worries of the world hadn't yet crept in.

You set down your bags and looked around, noticing the little things that hadn't changed. The family photos on the walls, the couch you used to crash on after long days of school, the kitchen where your mom would always be making something delicious. It felt like a soft embrace, as if the house itself was reminding you that no matter what had happened in your life, you could always come back here.

Your mom, noticing the wistful expression on your face, smiled gently and led you into the living room. "Come sit, honey. I'll make us some tea. We can talk."

You nodded and sank into the couch, letting out a long breath as the weight of the past few days seemed to momentarily lift. As you settled in, your mom returned with a steaming cup of tea, handing it to you with a reassuring smile.

"So, what's been going on? You don't look like yourself," she said, her voice soft but full of concern.

You took a sip of the tea, the warmth spreading through your chest, before setting the cup down. You didn't know where to start.

You take a deep breath, trying to push the overwhelming thoughts and emotions to the side. "Work has just been stressful, that's all," you say, forcing a smile to mask the truth.

Your mom studies you for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she can sense something more is going on. But she doesn't press, instead nodding and giving you a gentle smile. "I understand, sweetheart. You've been working so hard. It's okay to feel a bit overwhelmed sometimes."

You nod, relieved that she doesn't push any further. The last thing you want is to dive into a conversation about what's really happening. Not yet, at least.

She sits down beside you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Take your time, okay? You don't have to carry everything on your own."

You swallow, trying to hold back the tears that have been threatening to spill. For now, you'll focus on what's in front of you—your mom, the warmth of home, and a much-needed break from everything. You'll figure the rest out later.

Your mom smiles warmly, her eyes softening with a touch of nostalgia. "I kept your room just the way you left it," she says gently. "No one's allowed to go in there. It's yours, whenever you need it."

Her words stir something deep within you—a mix of comfort and guilt. It feels nice to know that you have a place to come back to, but the weight of everything you're dealing with right now makes the idea of going back to your old room feel bittersweet.

"You didn't have to do that, Mom," you reply quietly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "I've been away for so long."

"I know," she says, her voice warm with love. "But you're always my baby, no matter how old you get. If you ever need a break, a place to think, or just some peace... that room's yours."

Her words make your heart ache, and for a moment, you just want to curl up in that room and forget about everything. But you know you have decisions to make, tough ones that can't be avoided.

"Thanks, Mom," you whisper, feeling the weight of her care and the safe, familiar feeling of home.

As you walk into your old room, a wave of nostalgia hits you, mingling with a tinge of sadness. The familiar scent of your childhood fills the air— faint traces of lavender from the detergent your mom used, and the lingering warmth of home. Everything feels exactly as it did when you left, as though time had frozen here.

The bed is made, the desk organized with small items you once left scattered, and your shelves still stocked with books, trinkets, and photos. It's almost like you never left, yet it feels strangely empty at the same time. The room is full of memories, of who you were before everything changed. The familiar feeling of comfort mixes with a sense of loss, of growing up, of becoming someone new, yet still clinging to pieces of your past.

Sitting down on the bed, you run your fingers across the fabric of the comforter, and the weight of everything you've been through, everything you're going through, settles heavily on your chest. You think back to the first time you walked out of this room, excited, full of hope for what the future held. Now, standing here again, it feels like a lifetime ago, and the future is full of uncertainty.

But there's also a feeling of safety, a quiet reassurance that, for a moment, you can take a breath. You're back in a place that once felt like home, even if you don't know exactly what you're running from—or running toward.

You sit there for a while, letting the weight of the world lift off your shoulders just a little, even if only for a short time.

As you unpack all your clothes and belongings, a sense of calm washes over you. Being back at home feels like a step towards some clarity, and you start to feel a bit more at ease. The familiar space and the quiet give you time to think, but also help you forget the tensions of the past few days, if only for a little while. You finish putting everything in its place, finally taking a seat on your bed and allowing yourself a moment to breathe.

You lie down on your bed, pulling the blanket over yourself, the familiar scent of home wrapping around you. As you close your eyes, your thoughts swirl—about the pregnancy, about Jungkook, and about what comes next. The weight of everything feels heavy, but for now, you let yourself drift into a peaceful nap, hoping that a little rest will bring some clarity.

Jungkook took another gulp of his whiskey, the glass cool against his fingertips as he stared into space. His kitchen was dimly lit, the only sound being the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. His mind was restless—replaying every word, every argument, every moment with you.

He knew he had messed up. He knew walking out on you was a mistake. But what hurt the most was feeling like no matter what he did, it was never enough. He wanted to be part of this, to take responsibility, to prove that he was serious. But you leaving—choosing to go to your parents instead of letting him in—felt like a rejection he wasn't prepared for.

With a heavy sigh, he set the glass down, rubbing his face in frustration. He needed to fix this, but he wasn't sure if he even knew how.

Before Jungkook could think any further, his phone buzzed aggressively against the counter. He glanced at the screen—his manager. With a sigh, he picked it up.

"What?" he muttered, not in the mood for another lecture.

"Glad you finally answered," his manager scoffed. "Listen, I signed you up for a fight."

Jungkook's grip on the phone tightened. "What?" His voice was sharp now.

"You've been off the radar, man. You need to get back in. This fight is in two weeks, and I don't want to hear any excuses."

Jungkook ran a hand down his face, the frustration building. "I never agreed to this."

"You don't need to," his manager shot back. "You need something to get your head straight, and a fight will do that. You've been too distracted."

Jungkook let out a humorless laugh. "Distracted?" If only his manager knew.

"Yes. So get your ass to training, and be ready."

The call ended before Jungkook could argue, leaving him staring at the screen. A fight. As if he didn't already have enough chaos in his life. But maybe—just maybe—throwing a few punches was exactly what he needed.

Jungkook groaned, tossing his phone onto the counter. He hated how his manager always did this—signing him up for fights without even asking. It wasn't the first time, and he knew it wouldn't be the last.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. His life was already a mess, and now he had to prepare for a fight he wasn't even mentally ready for.

His mind wasn't in the ring right now. It was with you. The argument, the way you left, the way he let you leave. He clenched his jaw.

Maybe his manager was right about one thing. Maybe he did need to fight—to hit something, to get his head straight. But would it actually help? Or would it just be another distraction from the mess he created?

You, however, were setting up the table while your mom finished up cooking. The familiar warmth of home wrapped around you, offering a small sense of comfort despite the storm of emotions still swirling inside you.

Your hands moved automatically, placing plates and utensils in their usual spots, but your mind was elsewhere—on everything that had happened, on everything that was still uncertain.

Your mother glanced over at you, noticing your silence. "You seem deep in thought, sweetheart. Everything okay?" she asked, her voice soft with concern.

You forced a small smile, nodding. "Yeah, just... tired from the trip." It wasn't a full lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either.

She hummed knowingly but didn't press further, instead focusing on the food. "Well, a good home-cooked meal will help. Your dad's going to be so happy to see you."

The thought of seeing your dad did bring some warmth to your chest, but deep down, you knew there was still so much weighing on you. And sooner or later, you'd have to face it.

Just as she said that, the front door opened, and your father walked in carrying bags in his hands. His eyes landed on you, and for a moment, he just stood there, processing the sight of you standing in the kitchen. Then, without hesitation, he dropped the bags onto the floor and rushed over.

"Y/N!" he exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug.

You felt the air squeeze out of your lungs, but you couldn't help the way your eyes watered at his familiar warmth. "Hey, Dad," you murmured against his shoulder, hugging him just as tightly.

"You didn't tell me you were coming!" he said, pulling back to get a good look at you. "Look at you. Have you been eating enough? You look tired—what's going on?"

Your mom chuckled from the side. "Let the poor girl breathe, will you?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "I just wanted to visit for a while. Work's been stressful."

It was the second time you'd given that excuse, and while it wasn't entirely false, it still felt like a cover-up.

Your dad narrowed his eyes but smiled, patting your head. "Well, I'm glad you're here. This calls for a feast!" he declared, making you and your mom laugh.

For a moment, just being here, everything felt a little bit lighter.

Your dad held onto you a little longer than usual, and you didn't let go either. You had always been a daddy's girl, ever since you were little. No matter how old you got, no matter how far you moved, being in his arms always made you feel safe—like nothing in the world could hurt you.

"I missed you, kid," he murmured, his voice quieter now, filled with something deeper.

You swallowed, squeezing your eyes shut for a second before nodding against his shoulder. "I missed you too, Dad."

Your mom let out a soft sigh, watching the two of you with a small smile before going back to cooking. Your dad finally pulled away just enough to look at you again, his hands still on your arms.

"So, tell me everything. What's been going on? How's Seoul treating you?" he asked, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for something you weren't saying.

You forced a small smile, trying to keep your emotions in check. "It's... been okay. Just needed a break, you know?"

He didn't push, but the way he kept looking at you made you wonder if he already knew there was more to the story.

The dinner table was filled with laughter as your dad animatedly recounted the story of your first fishing trip together.

"Y/n was so excited, talking about how she was gonna catch the biggest fish in the lake. And then—bam! First cast, the line gets stuck on a rock!" he said, bursting into laughter.

You giggled, shaking your head. "Okay, but in my defense, I was like seven, Dad!"

"Seven and convinced you were a pro," he teased. "And when we finally did catch a fish, you screamed and refused to touch it!"

Your mom chuckled as she set more food on the table. "Some things never change," she mused, giving you a knowing look.

You rolled your eyes but smiled, feeling warm for the first time in days. For a moment, it was easy to forget the weight on your shoulders—the baby, Jungkook, everything. Right now, it was just you and your family, laughing like nothing else in the world mattered.

Your dad grinned, nudging you playfully. "So, Y/n, now that you're all grown up, want a drink? I promise I won't water it down like last time."

Your mom rolled her eyes at the inside joke. "Don't encourage her, honey."

You laughed softly, but as you reached to adjust your seat, a small wave of nausea hit you. Instinctively, you placed a hand on your stomach under the table, your smile faltering for just a second.

"Actually, I'll pass," you said, forcing a small smile. "Just water for me."

Your dad raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you turn down free drinks?" he joked, but didn't press further when you just shrugged.

Your mom, however, narrowed her eyes slightly, studying you like only a mother could. But before she could say anything, your dad launched into another story, and you sighed in relief, hoping they wouldn't notice anything... yet.

Your mom wiped her hands on a napkin before looking at you. "Tomorrow, I was thinking of going to the market to pick up a few things," she said casually. "And while we're out, I thought we could visit some family. It'll be a nice surprise for them to see you."

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of everything on your shoulders, but you knew you couldn't avoid them forever. Plus, a normal day out with your mom might help clear your mind.

You nodded with a small smile. "Yeah, that sounds nice."

Your mom beamed. "Great! We'll leave early, so get some rest tonight."

Your dad chuckled. "Good luck getting Y/n out of bed early."

You rolled your eyes. "I'll set an alarm, okay?"

The conversation moved on, but you couldn't help but feel a little anxious. Tomorrow, you'd be surrounded by family—people who still saw you as the same little girl who used to run around in pigtails. Would they be able to tell something was different?

You brush your teeth, the sound of the toothbrush making your mind wander as you try to focus. Your phone suddenly rings, and you glance at it—it's Yoongi.

You quickly spit and wipe your mouth with a towel before answering. "Yoongi?" you say, trying to sound normal.

"Y/n, why aren't you at work today? I've been trying to reach you," Yoongi's voice comes through, a little concerned.

You pause, biting your lip as you think about how to respond. "I... I needed a break. Just feeling a bit overwhelmed." You keep it vague, not wanting to dive into anything too personal.

There's a slight silence on the other end before Yoongi responds. "Is everything okay? You've been quiet lately. If you need to talk, you know I'm here."

You exhale, trying to mask the tension you feel. "Yeah, everything's fine. Just need some time to clear my head, you know?" You keep your voice steady, even though inside, it's anything but fine.

Yoongi seems to accept your answer for now. "Alright... just don't take too long off. We need you back in the loop."

You nod, even though he can't see it. "Thanks, Yoongi. I'll be fine. I just need to figure some stuff out."

"Take care of yourself," he says softly before hanging up.

You let out a slow breath, staring at your phone for a moment. Even though Yoongi's words were kind, you still feel a sense of isolation—like you're carrying a heavy secret no one knows.

You make a mental note to call your boss in the morning, planning to explain your situation and let him know why you've been absent. Although you know it will affect your paycheck, at this moment, you honestly couldn't care less. Everything else feels so overwhelming, and the thought of facing work right now just doesn't seem possible.

You finish brushing your teeth and look at yourself in the mirror, trying to gather the energy to face another day. You're not sure how you're going to manage everything, but you know you'll figure it out—one step at a time.

You hold your stomach, feeling the small, subtle inch of growth. It's not too noticeable, but you can feel it. The realization hits you again: you're carrying a life inside of you, even if the journey ahead feels uncertain. The small change in your body is a reminder of everything that's happening—things you never expected, but are now unavoidable.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. It's overwhelming, but you know you need to face it. Slowly, you start to prepare for the next steps, even though you're still unsure of what those will be.

You're just hoping it doesn't grow too big for your parents to notice yet. The thought of having to explain everything to them before you're ready feels like a weight you're not prepared to carry. You wonder how long you can keep it hidden, but you know deep down that eventually, you'll have to face the truth. For now, though, you just want to take it one day at a time, hoping the changes don't become too obvious too soon.

Y/n dials the doctor's office, holding her breath to make sure her parents don't hear the conversation. The phone rings, and her heart pounds as she waits for someone to pick up.

"Hello, Dr. Kim's office. How can I help you today?"

"Hi, it's Y/n... I had an appointment a while ago, and I just needed to ask a few more questions... about my pregnancy." Her voice is quiet, trying to keep it from carrying.

"Of course, Y/n. Let me check your file quickly."

She hears the sound of typing in the background as she sits quietly, glancing over at the door just to make sure no one is listening.

"Okay, I see your file here. It looks like you're still in the early stages, about 6-7 weeks pregnant. How are you feeling? Do you need anything? Any concerns?"

Y/n sighs softly, relieved that the doctor is understanding. "I'm just really confused about what to do next, and I wanted to know if there's more time for me to make a decision or if I need to act quickly."

Dr. Kim's voice is reassuring. "You still have time. You're in the early stages, so there's no rush for any decisions yet. If you'd like, we can set up another appointment to discuss your options more thoroughly. Just know that you're not alone in this."

Y/n closes her eyes for a moment, feeling both comforted and overwhelmed. "Thank you, Dr. Kim. I appreciate you helping me with this."

"Of course. Take care of yourself, Y/n. Let us know when you're ready to come in again."

She hangs up the phone, feeling a little lighter, but still unsure about everything. The relief of getting some clarity is mixed with the reality of the decision ahead.

Y/n walks out of the bathroom, feeling the overwhelming nausea still lingering in her stomach. She presses a hand to her mouth, trying her best to keep it together, but the urge to throw up is strong. Taking a deep breath, she walks down the hallway toward her parents' room.

When she steps inside, her mom looks up, a soft smile on her face. "Goodnight, sweetie. Everything okay?"

Y/n forces a smile, doing her best to hide how off-balance she feels. "Yeah, just tired... Goodnight, Mom. Goodnight, Dad."

Her dad looks over, offering a smile as well. "Goodnight, sweetheart. Rest up."

She nods, her throat tight as she walks back to her room, careful not to let the overwhelming wave of nausea break through. Once the door is closed behind her, she lets out a shaky breath, collapsing onto the bed, still feeling the weight of everything she's carrying—physically and emotionally.

Jungkook's frustration reaches a breaking point. He slams his hand down on the table, his phone bouncing off and hitting the floor with a soft thud. He stares at it for a moment, feeling the anger and helplessness swell up inside him. He picks it up, staring at the blank screen as if willing it to give him something—anything—that could lead him to you.

"Why the hell can't I reach you?" he mutters under his breath.

He knew he messed up, but not knowing where you are or how to fix this gnaws at him. The silence between you both feels like a wall, cold and unmovable. He checks his social media again, his hands trembling slightly, but everything is the same. You never post anything, and he hasn't heard from you since the last argument.

He paces around the room, raking his hands through his hair, desperately trying to come up with a plan. He should've never let you walk away like that. He should've fought harder to make you stay, to make things right. Now, he's left with nothing but regret, and the distance between you feels impossible to close.

His mind races. Should he go to your parents' house? What if that only makes things worse? He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He needs to focus, think this through. But right now, the only thing on his mind is finding you and apologizing—properly, not just through text or a call, but face-to-face. He owes you that much, at least.

He picks up his phone again, scrolling through your social media one more time, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in his stomach. But nothing. Just silence.

He can't take it anymore.

Jungkook stares at your Instagram highlights, his eyes tracing over each picture. He finds himself drawn to the photos of you smiling, laughing, and looking carefree—images from times when everything felt easier. There's something about the way your eyes light up in those moments that hits him deeply.

He lets his finger hover over the screen, lingering on one particular picture of you, your face illuminated in soft sunlight. It's a simple photo, but to him, it feels like it holds a thousand unspoken words. His chest tightens, and for a moment, he forgets everything else—the anger, the mistakes, the mess he's made. He just wants to see you again, to hear your voice, to fix everything.

But he knows he can't just fix things by looking at pictures. He has to do more than that.

He watches your smile in one of the highlights again, feeling a pang of regret. I should've treated you better, he thinks, frustration building. I should've been there for you when you needed me. I messed up... big time.

Jungkook sighs, leaning back against the wall, the weight of it all pressing down on him. But as he looks at your photos, he realizes something: he doesn't just want to apologize to you. He wants to be the person who shows up for you. He wants to be the one who supports you, not just when things are easy, but when they're hard too.

The realization makes his heart ache even more. But now, he's not sure if it's too late to change anything.

Jungkook takes a screenshot of the picture, staring at it for a long moment before his finger gently taps the screen. He looks at you in that image, glowing with happiness. You look so carefree, so full of life.

The picture captures a serene moment on the beach as the sun sets in the background, casting soft pink and orange hues across the sky. You're seated comfortably on the sand, wearing a bright yellow skirt that flows gently around you, paired with a matching off-shoulder top adorned with delicate flower patterns. The fabric of your outfit seems to flutter with the breeze, adding a sense of lightness to the scene.

Your hair is styled loosely, with a small flower tucked to the side, complementing the natural beauty of the moment. You're looking directly at the camera with a joyful, genuine smile that lights up your face, making your skin glow under the soft sunlight. Your eyes sparkle with happiness, radiating warmth and carefree energy, making the photo feel as if time has stopped just for this perfect moment.

The beach setting behind you is calm, with the waves gently lapping at the shore, and the sky above transitions from a golden orange to a soft pink, creating a peaceful, almost dreamlike atmosphere. It's a picture full of joy, peace, and the kind of beauty that seems effortless, capturing you at your most carefree.

He studies the picture closely, noticing the little details—how the flower in your hair is slightly tilted, the way your smile reaches your eyes, how effortlessly beautiful you look. It's a sharp contrast to the mess everything's become.

He sighs, heart heavy. I need to fix this... somehow, he thinks. But he's unsure how, unsure if you'd even want to see him again after everything that's happened.

But right now, all he can do is look at this picture. It's like a small reminder of the person he's lost, and what he's willing to fight for. Jungkook places his phone down, still staring at the image, his mind racing with the weight of the words he should've said and the actions he should've taken.

He knows he can't undo the past, but he's going to try to show you that he's willing to change for the future.

Jungkook can't seem to pull himself away from the thought of you, especially now, knowing you're carrying his child. It's like a switch flipped, and he feels an overwhelming pull toward you that he can't ignore. The picture of you on the beach, your face glowing in the golden sunset, is now burned in his mind. But it's more than just the way you look—it's the weight of what you two created together, something far more significant than just a fleeting moment or a casual encounter.

He's never felt this kind of obsession before, this intense need to know you, to be there for you, and to make sure everything is okay. The idea that you're carrying his child makes him feel responsible, protective, and possessive all at once. He can't help but wonder what would have happened if things were different, if he hadn't messed things up.

The truth is, no matter how complicated everything feels right now, he can't stop thinking about you and the baby. He realizes, for the first time, that he can't walk away from this, from you.

Jungkook sits with that thought heavy on his mind. The possibility of you going through with the abortion feels like a weight he can't shake. It's not just about the child—it's about losing something that feels irreplaceable. He knows deep down that if you decide to go through with it, it would crush him. The idea of never having a chance to raise this child with you, to be a part of something so much bigger than himself, feels like a devastating loss.

It's a selfish thought, he knows. But he's overwhelmed by the emotions he's been pushing down. He's terrified of what it would mean for you, for the baby, for everything between the two of you. Jungkook tries to convince himself that he's not asking you to keep the baby for him—he wants to be there for you, for the child, for everything. But the fear of losing it all, of you making a decision that ends this dream, feels like too much to bear.

You quickly wake up to the sound of your alarm blaring, groggily reaching to turn it off. The day ahead is full of uncertainty, but you can't afford to linger in bed any longer. You rush to the bathroom, turning on the shower and stepping under the hot water to wake yourself up. The steam fills the room, giving you a moment of clarity, but your mind races with everything going on—your pregnancy, your parents, and Jungkook.

You try to focus on getting ready, pushing the thoughts aside for a while. You let the water wash over you, but it's hard to ignore the growing tension in your chest. There's so much you still need to figure out. You know you can't avoid these feelings forever, but for now, all you can do is take things one step at a time.

You stand in front of the mirror, taking in your reflection. The white buttoned dress fits perfectly, the fabric light and comfortable against your skin, while the simple white sandals complete the look. Your hair, already curled, falls in soft waves, and you gather it into a low side ponytail, letting a few strands fall naturally around your face.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you stare at your reflection. There's a sense of calm in how you look, but inside, everything feels more chaotic. You quickly shake off the nerves, reminding yourself that today is just another step. With one last glance at the mirror, you turn and head downstairs, ready to face whatever comes next.

You gently apply a light layer of makeup, focusing on evening out your complexion to cover the tiredness in your eyes. A subtle touch of concealer brightens your under-eye area, and you dust your face with a translucent powder to keep everything natural. A light swipe of blush adds a soft glow to your cheeks, while a hint of mascara enhances your lashes, giving your eyes a little more life.

You finish with a nude lip gloss, just enough to make your lips look fuller and hydrated. The goal is a fresh, natural look, and as you step back to examine yourself, you feel a little better. It's not about hiding everything, just giving yourself a little boost.

Your mom looks radiant in her summer dress, a light pastel color that complements her warm smile. She adjusts the straps of her dress, a small floral pattern dancing across the fabric, and you can tell she's excited for the day ahead. Her hair is styled effortlessly, falling in soft waves around her shoulders, and she looks at you with a pleased expression.

"You look lovely, sweetheart," she says warmly, her eyes briefly scanning your outfit. "Ready for a day out?" She grabs her sunglasses from the counter, clearly eager for the trip.

You get into the car with your mom, the warm morning sunlight streaming through the windows. As she drives, you both chat lightly about the little things—plans for the upcoming week, some of her favorite things to buy at the market, and how much you missed being home. The ride is comforting, with the soft hum of the engine and the occasional chirp of birds in the background.

As you pull up to the market, the lively atmosphere greets you—vendors calling out their prices, families wandering, and the vibrant colors of fresh produce filling the air. You take a deep breath, letting the busy yet familiar sights and sounds ground you, knowing it's a step forward in your process of thinking things through.

The market is bustling with energy, filled with vibrant colors and the sounds of vendors calling out to passersby, offering fresh produce and homemade goods. The stands are lined with a rainbow of fruits—bright red apples, ripe bananas, juicy oranges, and plump berries. The air is thick with the scent of freshly cut flowers, earthy vegetables, and a hint of street food from nearby stalls.

You can hear the sound of sizzling from the grill where skewers of meat are being cooked, the soft clink of coins as transactions are made, and the cheerful chatter of people negotiating prices. There's the occasional cry of a baby or the laughter of children running through the aisles, their excited footsteps echoing in the lively atmosphere.

The warmth of the sun, the familiar smells of your childhood, and the busy pace of the market fill you with nostalgia. It reminds you of when you used to come with your mom, your hand clasped tightly in hers, the world feeling simpler and full of wonder. The sights and sounds bring back memories of sunny days spent wandering these stalls, the anticipation of picking out something new for dinner, and the comforting feeling of being home.

You follow your mom as she stops by the meat section, where an elderly lady is selling fresh cuts of beef. The stall is lined with various pieces of tender meat, each labeled with prices. The air around the stall carries the distinct scent of fresh meat, blending with the other smells of the market. The old lady smiles warmly, her wrinkled face lighting up as she greets your mom, both of them chatting as they examine the beef.

Your mom points to a particular cut, nodding approvingly while they discuss the best ways to prepare it for dinner. The elderly lady tells a story about how the cows are raised and how she's been selling her goods at the market for years. As they talk, you take in the scene, watching the easy camaraderie between the two. The market has always had this feeling, a sense of familiarity and comfort, with faces that have been here for generations.

You stand quietly next to your mom, the sun casting a warm glow over the scene, while she continues to select the beef, asking the lady for the best marbled cut. The rhythmic hum of the market continues around you, a pleasant mix of chatter, laughter, and the occasional clink of coins, reminding you of simpler times when life seemed a little more predictable.

Your mom chuckles softly as you groan, clearly getting bored of the fish section. The smell of fresh seafood isn't exactly your favorite, and you've been here long enough to start feeling the urge to wander off. You tell her you're going to find some fruits and sweets, feeling a strange craving building up.

She gives you a smile and a nod, reminding you to be careful as you head off. You make your way through the crowded aisles, the vibrant colors of fresh produce and rows of tempting sweets catching your eye. The air is warm and filled with the sweet scent of fruit, and you breathe it in, feeling a little better.

As you pass by the fruit stalls, you can't help but be drawn to the bright, juicy oranges and plump strawberries, their colors popping under the sun. A vendor offers a taste, and you gladly accept, enjoying the burst of sweetness in your mouth. You spot a nearby candy stall with all kinds of sugary treats in neat jars, and your craving only grows stronger. The mix of fruity sweetness and sugary indulgence feels just right, and for a moment, you forget about everything else.

You smile to yourself, the market's energy pulling you in, feeling a sense of normalcy and comfort, despite the things weighing on your mind.

You grab three bags of plump, fresh strawberries, smiling to yourself as you pay for them, feeling pleased with the "buy 2, get 1 free" deal. The sweet, fragrant scent of the berries fills the air, and you can already imagine enjoying them later, maybe with a dollop of cream or on their own.

Making your way towards the small sweets stall, you notice the colorful variety of treats displayed: chewy candies, brightly colored macarons, and delicate pastries that look like they belong in a high-end bakery. Your mouth waters as you scan the options, tempted by the sight of chewy fruit gummies and caramel toffees. You can't resist, so you decide to pick up a few of your favorites, the sugary treats giving you a moment of indulgence.

After paying for your selection, you turn around, glancing back toward the market. The energy of the bustling place lifts your mood a little, and for a second, you almost feel like everything is going to be okay. You look forward to going back to your mom, maybe sharing a sweet with her, feeling just a little lighter as you let the market's hustle and bustle take your mind off things.

As you walk back to your mother, the sight of an ice cream stand catches your eye. The coolness of the ice cream, paired with the bright summer day, is irresistible. You walk up to the stand, your mouth already watering at the thought of something sweet and refreshing. The vendor offers a wide selection of flavors, but today, you're in the mood for something simple and classic.

"Two scoops of vanilla, please," you say, watching as the vendor scoops the creamy ice cream into a cone, the smooth texture of it making your mouth water even more. You take the cone eagerly, a small smile spreading across your face as you savor the cold sweetness.

As you continue your walk, you take a bite, feeling the ice cream slowly melt in your mouth. It's the perfect treat, and for a moment, you let yourself fully enjoy the simple pleasure of it. The combination of the market atmosphere, your ice cream, and the nostalgic memories from your childhood makes everything feel a little lighter, a little more bearable.

Your mom sneaks up behind you, a playful smile on her face as she gently nudges you. "You know, don't eat too much sugar," she warns, half-joking. "You'll spoil your appetite for dinner."

You laugh, shaking your head as you turn to face her. "Mom, I'm not a child anymore," you remind her, taking another bite of your ice cream. "I can handle my sweets."

She chuckles, her eyes filled with that familiar care. "I know, I know. Just making sure you don't ruin your dinner."

You both share a laugh, the sound of the bustling market around you making the moment feel even more comforting and familiar.

You two walk toward the sushi market, and suddenly, your cravings hit. The fresh fish and the sight of beautifully crafted sushi rolls make your mouth water. Without thinking, you tug at your mom's arm, pleading, "Please, can we buy some sushi? I'm really craving it."

Your mom raises an eyebrow but smiles at your excitement. "Alright, alright. But only if we try the free samples first," she says, clearly amused by your sudden enthusiasm.

You eagerly nod, making your way to the sample stand. As you try the small pieces of sushi, the freshness and flavor seem to satisfy your craving instantly. You smile at your mom, who laughs at your reaction, before asking the vendor for a couple of rolls to take home.

With a satisfied grin, you walk beside her, already planning where to enjoy the sushi later. The joy of indulging in these little moments with your mom is something you hold dear, especially now.

The shopping trip finally comes to an end as your mom checks her watch, noticing the time. "We need to hurry and get to your aunt's house," she says, a slight urgency in her voice. "Everyone's already there, and they'll be waiting for us."

You nod, quickly gathering the bags and making sure everything is packed away. The thought of seeing family, especially your cousins, brings a warmth to your chest. You've missed the busy chatter and laughter that fills your aunt's house.

You both make your way to the car, your mom chatting about the market as she drives. The familiar streets lead you to your aunt's house, and as you arrive, you can already hear the sounds of family gathered inside, ready to make this day another cherished memory.

You turn to your mom with a smile as she parks the car. "The shopping felt so nostalgic," you say, your voice soft and filled with warmth. "It reminded me of when I was little, running around, trying to find all the sweets I could."

She laughs, glancing over at you with a fond look. "You always had a sweet tooth, even back then," she says, ruffling your hair like she used to when you were younger.

You both step out of the car, the scent of fresh air and the familiar hum of family chatter filling the space around you. As you walk toward your aunt's house, you can't help but feel a little lighter, like the nostalgia of those childhood days is slowly seeping back in. It's moments like these that make you appreciate how far you've come, even as life keeps throwing new challenges your way.

Your mom opens the door, and as you step inside, you're immediately greeted by the warm sound of laughter and chatter. The adults are gathered in the living room, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere and the gentle breeze coming in through the open windows. Your grandparents are sitting by the table, sipping their tea, looking content as they chat.

Your little cousins are running around, their laughter filling the air as they chase each other through the house. Their excitement brings a smile to your face, a sense of comfort in knowing that some things never change.

"Look who's here!" one of your aunts calls out, noticing you step inside. Your family welcomes you with open arms, and as you make your way to sit down, you feel that familiar sense of home wrapping around you. It's peaceful, just like when you were younger—simple, happy moments shared with the people who love you.

You run over to your grandparents, wrapping your arms around them tightly. The moment you do, their eyes well up with tears. You can feel their emotions as they hold you close, and the comfort of their embrace washes over you.

"We've missed you so much, dear," your grandmother says, her voice trembling with emotion. "Look at how much you've grown."

Your grandfather smiles through his tears, holding you gently. "We're so proud of you, always have been," he adds, his voice filled with love and admiration.

You step back a little, looking at them both, your heart swelling with love for them. The years apart seem to fade away in this moment, and you can't help but smile at the familiarity of their faces, the kindness in their eyes. It's like you've never been gone.

Your aunt walks in, a drink in her hand, and with a grin, she says, "Well, we should all celebrate your return!" She passes you a glass filled with a sparkling drink, but you instinctively shake your head, gently declining.

"I'm okay for now, thank you," you say, offering a polite smile.

You don't notice, but your mother has been watching carefully from across the room, her gaze lingering on you as she notices the refusal. There's a quiet concern in her eyes that you can't quite place, but it makes you uneasy. Your mind begins to race, but you push the thought aside, not wanting to think about the deeper reasons why you're not in the mood for a celebration.

You smile softly, trying to hide your unease. "I'm on a strict no drinking diet for a while, just trying to keep my body healthy," you lie, hoping it will be enough to avoid any further questions.

Your aunt gives you a quick glance, clearly trying to hide any curiosity, and simply nods. "Ah, well, that's good. Health is important," she says, before turning her attention to the others.

Your mother, however, continues to watch you closely, her brow furrowed just slightly. She doesn't press it, but you can feel her concern lingering in the air. You wonder if she suspects something more, but for now, you push the thought out of your mind, trying to focus on the conversation around you.

Your little cousins, full of energy, rush over and drag you away before you even have a chance to respond. "Come on, Y/n! Play with us!" they say, their faces lighting up with excitement.

You laugh softly, realizing there's no way out. With a playful sigh, you agree, "Alright, alright, I'll play," though it's clear you're mostly being forced into it. They cheer and pull you along, guiding you to the yard where they're already getting their toys ready.

As they start setting up a game of tag, you try to keep up with their energy, but it's hard to focus with so much on your mind. Still, you push your worries aside for the moment, allowing yourself to enjoy the chaos and innocence of childhood fun.

As your cousins pull you away to play, you glance back at the garden table where your mother and aunts are sitting. One of your aunts, who's always been a bit more inquisitive, looks over at your mom and asks, "Why is she here? Shouldn't she be working?"

Your mom, sensing the question might be about more than just your presence, answers calmly, "She needed some time away. You know, it's been a lot for her lately."

Your aunt raises an eyebrow but doesn't press further, taking a sip of her drink as she eyes you from across the yard. You can't help but feel a little tension in the air, unsure if your mom's explanation is enough to satisfy them.

You were running around with your cousins, caught up in the carefree energy of their laughter and excitement. You didn't hear the conversation happening behind you at the garden table, but your mom's words drifted through the air, soft but laced with concern.

Your aunt, sipping her drink, leaned in slightly toward your mom. "She does seem different, doesn't she? She was always so energetic, but now... she seems quieter, more distant."

Your mom nodded, looking over at you from the corner of her eye. "Exactly. It's like something's weighing on her. But what? I can't quite put my finger on it."

Your other aunt chimed in, her voice more matter-of-fact, "Maybe she's just going through a phase? You know how young people are."

But your mom's concern didn't ease. "Maybe. But it feels different. She's usually so open with me, but now... It's like she's hiding something."

"I'm not sure," your mom sighs. "Maybe it's the breakup with Mino? She seemed really upset when it happened."

Your aunt gasps, "Wait, you mean they broke up?" She looks around, surprised. "I thought they were so close."

Your mom shrugs. "I think she's hiding how hard it hit her. She's always been a little quiet about it, but from what I've seen, she hasn't been herself."

Your other aunt laughs lightly. "Well, it was bound to happen eventually. I remember you telling us about Mino at the barbecue. It didn't seem like that relationship would last."

"I guess so," your mom says, nodding slowly. "But it's more than just the breakup... She's acting different. It's like there's something more going on."

Your aunt then smirks, nudging your mom with a playful grin. "Remember Jungkook from the barbecue? He was such a handsome young man, wasn't he? Maybe he could have a chance with Y/n," she giggles, recalling the day fondly. "He seemed to really like her. The two of them had such a spark."

Your mom laughs lightly, shaking her head. "Oh, don't tease her. She's been through so much already, but I do remember the way they looked at each other. Jungkook seemed so sure of himself."

Your aunt chimes back, grinning. "Maybe it's not such a bad idea after all. He was sweet, and he really seemed to care about her. If only she wasn't so stubborn, right?"

Your mom sighs, a smile playing on her lips. "You're right. But who knows? Maybe it'll happen one day."

They both chuckle, but they don't realize you're still busy with your cousins, oblivious to their teasing.

The other aunts look at each other, clearly confused. "Who is Jungkook?" one of them asks, furrowing her brow. "I don't remember hearing anything about him."

Your aunt, who had been smiling and giggling, immediately begins to explain. "Oh, let me tell you! Jungkook is a friend of Y/n's. We met him at the family barbecue a while back. He's an absolute charmer. Very handsome, and quite the attention-grabber." She winks, clearly remembering the event. "He's a boxer, by the way—famous in the sport, which you probably didn't know. But let me tell you, he was definitely flirting with Y/n that day."

Your mom nods in agreement, her face thoughtful. "I noticed that too. There was a connection between them. Y/n was a little shy, but you could tell he liked her."

Your aunt continues with enthusiasm. "Exactly! And he wasn't just any boxer. He's got a reputation for being one of the best. Big name in the boxing world. But honestly, what stood out more was how much he was paying attention to Y/n. He even made her laugh a few times. And don't get me started on how his eyes were glued to her—definitely interested."

The other aunts look impressed. "A boxer?" one of them asks, raising her eyebrows. "That's quite the surprise."

Your aunt chuckles, shaking her head. "Y/n won't admit she likes him, though. You can see it in her face—she's probably all shy about it." She winks at your mom, teasing. "But we all know how it goes when you're young. You don't want to admit you have feelings for someone, especially someone like Jungkook."

Your mom sighs softly, looking slightly amused but also protective. "Oh, I know," she replies, her voice firm but loving. "Y/n will never admit it. She's stubborn like me, especially when it comes to boys." She pauses for a moment, her expression softening. "But honestly, I don't think anyone is good enough for my baby... Not right now, anyway. She's too young, and I don't want her getting involved with anyone until she's figured things out."

Your aunt raises an eyebrow, smirking. "You're not even going to give the poor guy a chance?"

Your mom shakes her head, giving a small smile. "I just want Y/n to focus on herself for now, and not be distracted by relationships or anyone else. She's my baby, and I'll make sure she doesn't get hurt."

The conversation continues with the light-hearted teasing from your aunts, but it's clear that your mom has her protective side in full gear, ensuring you focus on what's important—your well-being.

Your grandma chuckles softly as she sips her tea, a knowing look on her face. "She's grown enough, Y/n," she says with a playful grin. "Soon enough, she'll settle down and have kids... who knows, it could just be this Jungkook guy."

Your mom groans, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. "Mom! Stop it," she says, giving your grandma a playful, but stern look. "Y/n's not even thinking about that right now, can we not rush things?"

Your grandma simply laughs, unbothered by your mom's reaction. "I'm just saying, it happens faster than you think. You were the same at her age, saying you didn't want anything to do with relationships, and look how that turned out." She winks, clearly enjoying herself.

Your mom rolls her eyes and shakes her head, trying to steer the conversation away. "Please, can we not talk about this right now? Y/n will figure things out when she's ready."