10

The heavy apartment door swung shut behind Y/n with a sigh that mirrored the weight on her shoulders.

Exhaustion gnawed at her, not just physical, but the kind that seeped into your bones and dulled your very spirit.

Her phone, clutched tightly in her clammy hand, remained stubbornly dark. No missed calls, no texts – nothing from Jungkook.

As she shuffled towards the kitchen, a single sheet of paper on the table caught her eye.

It was addressed to her father, a stark blue company logo emblazoned on the top corner. Her heart skipped a beat. It was from Mr. Jeon's company.

Her father, usually home late due to his research work, was already there, a mug of coffee clutched in his hands.

"Dad?" Y/n called out, her voice barely a whisper.

Her father looked up, a smile lighting up his face. "There you are! Long day?"

Y/n nodded, unable to tear her gaze from the letter. "What's that?" she asked, pointing at the paper.

Her father's smile faltered slightly. "Oh, just a letter from Mr. Jeon's company. Seems they don't need my help anymore on that research project."

He shrugged, his tone casual, but a flicker of disappointment flickered in his eyes.

Another dead end. Y/n felt a fresh wave of despair wash over her. Every path she took led to a brick wall. 

Reaching home felt like stepping into a bubble of warmth. Taehyung, ever the cheery soul, was humming along to some off-key tune, a pot of ramen bubbling merrily on the stove.

"Hey stranger! You look beat," he greeted her, flashing a bright smile. "Ramen attack? The spicy kind just arrived!"

Y/n managed a weak smile. The smell of the noodles, usually comforting, filled her with an odd sense of nausea. Still, the logical part of her brain kicked in. "Maybe a little," she muttered, sinking into a chair at the table.

Taehyung, oblivious to her turmoil, bustled around the kitchen, setting up bowls and chopsticks. His constant chatter, usually a source of amusement, felt like background noise today. 

Y/n watched him, a strange sense of warmth blooming in her chest. The thought of this life, this simple routine, with its shared meals and off-key music, suddenly felt precious. This was her anchor, her family.

A hand landed gently on her shoulder, startling her. "Hey, you okay?" Taehyung's voice, usually flippant, held a hint of concern.

For a moment, Y/n considered opening up, telling him everything. But the words wouldn't come. The fear, the shame, it was all too raw. Instead, she took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm just…  tired."

Taehyung's smile softened. "Rough day? College stuff?"

Y/n nodded vaguely. Looking down at the steaming bowl of ramen in front of her, a thought struck her. Maybe she should eat.

After all, she had to eat for two now. 

The realization gave her a jolt, a strange mix of trepidation and a flicker of something akin to attachment. Taking a tentative sip of the broth, Y/n felt a surge of determination.

She might be alone in this, but she wouldn't be helpless. She had a life to build, a tiny life growing within her, and she would face it, one bowl of ramen at a time.  

---

[Later that night]

The rain outside hammered a relentless rhythm, a bleak counterpoint to the frantic drumming of Y/n's heart. Each unanswered text was a punch to the gut, the glowing screen mirroring the emptiness blooming in her chest.

To: Jungkook (Not Delivered)Where are you?

Words felt useless, lost in the chasm that had opened between them. Her phone, once a bridge between their hearts, now felt like a cold, mocking mirror.

To: Jungkook (Not Delivered)Missing you. So much.

Memories flickered like ghosts – whispered secrets in the library, stolen kisses under the shade of their favorite tree, the warmth of his hand in hers. Now, everything felt cold and empty.

To: Jungkook (Not delivered)Just a word. Anything. Please, don't let this be the end.

Desperation bled through her words, a stark contrast to the playful texts of happier times. The lack of even a single "delivered" notification felt like a cruel confirmation of her worst fear – she was cut off, adrift in a sea of uncertainty without a lifeline.

With a trembling hand, she sent one final message, a plea whispered into the void.

To: Jungkook (Not delivered)I miss you. More than words can say.

The phone slipped from her grasp, clattering on the floor. The empty space on the bed beside her screamed of his absence.

Sleep, when it eventually came, offered no solace. It was a tormented journey through a landscape of memories, each one a sharp reminder of the love that seemingly vanished into thin air, leaving behind a hollowness that echoed in the silence of her unanswered texts.

---

[Next morning]

The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, a familiar counterpoint to the rhythmic drumming of rain against the window.

Y/n stirred in bed, the remnants of a restless sleep clinging to her like a damp shawl. The unanswered texts, a constant thrum in the rhythm of her heart, offered no solace.

Each blink felt heavy, weighed down by the reality of the situation.

Heaving herself out of bed, she shuffled into the kitchen, where her father greeted her with his usual cheerful demeanor.

Mr. Kim, oblivious to the storm brewing within his daughter, hummed along to the news playing on the television, the cheery tune a stark contrast to Y/n's internal turmoil.

"Good morning, sunshine!" chirped Mr. Kim, his smile brighter than the sunbeams streaming through the window.

"Finally decided to grace us with your presence?"

Y/n managed a weak smile, her voice barely above a whisper. "Morning, Dad."

They ate breakfast in a comfortable silence, broken only by the clinking of spoons against cereal bowls. Mr. Kim, between bites, cleared his throat, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Speaking of mornings," he began, his voice taking on a thoughtful tone, "came across another invitation yesterday."

Y/n's heart lurched in her chest, an unexpected jolt that sent a tremor through her entire body.

"An invitation?" she echoed, trying to sound casual despite the spike in her adrenaline.

"Yep," Mr. Kim said, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. "Another party at the Jeon residence. Fancy shindig apparently, for some big project launch."

Y/n held her breath as she absorbed the information.

A party?

Why would the Jeons be throwing a party for a project launch?

This sudden need to celebrate felt… different, almost secretive.

"You thinking of going?" she asked, her voice barely a murmur. Every muscle in her body seemed to be on high alert, waiting for his next words.

Mr. Kim frowned. "Honestly, Y/n, I don't know. After that whole thing with the research project getting wrapped up…" He trailed off, the unfinished sentence hanging heavy in the air.

Y/n understood his hesitation. The abrupt ending of his work with Mr. Jeon was still a fresh wound. It felt awkward, like a door being slammed shut with no explanation.

"It feels a bit awkward, you know?" Mr. Kim continued, his voice laced with a mixture of disappointment and resignation.

A desperate hope flickered within Y/n, a tiny flame battling the storm of emotions churning within her.

Maybe, just maybe, this party would offer a glimpse of Jungkook. Maybe it would be a chance to finally talk to him, to understand what had happened, to see him again.

"Dad," she began, her voice stronger now, the hesitancy replaced by a steely determination. "Please, consider going. It might be a good opportunity to… network, you know? Meet other people in your field."

Mr. Kim considered this for a moment, his brow crinkling in thought. "Networking, huh?" He raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes.

"You sure that's the only reason you're so keen on me going?"

Y/n felt her cheeks flush crimson, a betraying warmth creeping up her neck. "Of course not!" she stammered, her voice cracking slightly.

"It's just… well, it wouldn't hurt to make some new connections, right?"

Her voice wavered slightly, but her father seemed to accept her explanation. A knowing smile played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the storm raging beneath the surface.

"Alright, alright," he chuckled, reaching across the table to ruffle her hair with a gentle hand. "One fancy party for my favourite daughter. But you're helping me pick out a tie."

Relief washed over Y/n, a wave so powerful it threatened to sweep her off her feet. The party was a gamble, a shot in the dark, but it was a chance.

And for now, that was all she had.

Steeling her nerves, she forced a smile. "Deal. Now, about that tie…"

As they discussed bowties and dinner jackets, a fragile hope flickered within Y/n. The party might not be the solution to all her problems, but it was a step, a step towards finding Jungkook, towards facing the truth, and maybe, just maybe, towards finding a way forward, one uncertain step at a time.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Y/n, fueled by nervous energy, helped her father polish his shoes and iron his crisp white shirt. Every action held a hidden purpose, a desperate attempt to control her inner turmoil.

---

[Later that night]

The grand Jeon mansion shimmered under the soft glow of fairy lights, a stark contrast to the storm clouds that had finally parted ways earlier that evening. Mr. Kim, adorned in a well-fitting suit and a carefully chosen tie (thanks to Y/n's meticulous guidance), adjusted his glasses slightly, a hint of nervousness flickering in his eyes.

"Ready for this, sunshine?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful concern.

Y/n offered him a tight smile. "As ready as I'll ever be, Dad," she replied, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

The polished marble floors and the cacophony of hushed conversations and tinkling glasses served only to amplify the turmoil within her.

Mr. Kim, sensing her anxiety, squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, sweetie. We'll stick together, alright?"

Y/n nodded, her eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of Jungkook. The guests, a well-heeled mix of socialites and business tycoons, mingled with an air of forced merriment.

Diamonds twinkled on manicured fingers, while tailored suits masked a million unspoken agendas. It was a world Y/n felt utterly out of place in, a world that seemed miles away from the cozy familiarity of her home kitchen.

They navigated the throng, Mr. Kim's easy smile disarming even the most stoic faces. He introduced himself to various individuals, engaging in conversations about work and the weather.

Y/n, however, remained a silent observer, her gaze darting through the sea of faces, searching for the one that haunted her dreams.

An hour ticked by, each passing minute stretching into an eternity. Mr. Kim, noticing her growing dejection, steered her towards a table laden with an array of hors d'oeuvres.

She picked at a miniature quiche, the taste lost on her tongue. Disappointment gnawed at her. Had they gotten the wrong information? Was there even a party at all?

Suddenly, a hush fell over the crowd. Conversations died down, replaced by a collective turning of heads. Y/n, following the unspoken cue, looked towards the grand staircase at the far end of the room.

There, bathed in the soft glow of a chandelier, stood Jungkook.

He looked breathtaking. Clad in a perfectly tailored black suit, his broad shoulders seemed even broader, his dark hair tousled in a way that sent a familiar shiver down Y/n's spine.

The dim lighting softened the harsh angles of his face, highlighting the warmth in his brown eyes – a warmth that seemed absent at that moment.

He descended the stairs with an effortless grace, his presence commanding immediate attention.

Guests, their faces alight with a mixture of awe and anticipation, converged on him like moths drawn to a flame.

Women, adorned in designer dresses and dripping with jewels, preened and fluttered around him, their voices laced with a subtle flirtatiousness.

Men, their faces etched with a mixture of admiration and competition, jostled for his attention, eager to shake his hand, to bask in the reflected glory of his success.

Y/n watched from afar, a bitter taste rising in her throat. The Jungkook she saw standing there was not the same Jungkook she knew.

He was a public figure, a shining star in a constellation of the rich and powerful. His smile, though practiced and charming, lacked the warmth that used to crinkle the corners of his eyes when he was with her.

A wave of despair washed over her. In this world of opulence and veiled ambition, their stolen moments in the library, their hushed conversations under the shade of the old oak tree, seemed like a faraway dream, a fleeting memory from another lifetime.

He was a world away, not just physically but socially, emotionally. Their connection, once a secret whispered in the dark, felt starkly out of place amidst the glittering chandeliers and the hushed business deals.

The realization hit her with the force of a tidal wave. They weren't just from different worlds; they were from different universes.

She, a simple college student, belonged amidst the stacks of books and the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the university library.

He, a public figure, belonged in this gilded cage, surrounded by admirers and guarded by an invisible wall of wealth and privilege.

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the image of Jungkook before her. He didn't even spare a glance in her direction, lost in the sea of faces competing for his attention.

In that moment, Y/n felt utterly invisible, a forgotten melody drowned out by the cacophony of a world she could never truly be a part of.

Taking a deep breath, she forced the tears back. There was no point in crying. She had to face reality, no matter how harsh it was.

Her stolen moments with Jungkook, precious as they were, could never translate into a real future.

Nonetheless, a sliver of hope clung to Y/n. Maybe, just maybe, amidst the throng, she could catch his eye, a fleeting nod, a whispered hello. Maybe, in this public setting, that would be enough.

She waited patiently, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

Finally, Jungkook, having finished a conversation with a portly man in a pinstripe suit, Mr. Han if the whispers were to be believed, started to move away. This was it.

Y/n took a deep breath, steeling herself, and approached him. Just as she got within a reasonable distance, Mr. Han called out, a question about some new project.

Jungkook stopped, his back to Y/n, and engaged in a conversation that seemed to stretch on forever.

Desperation gnawed at her. This was her chance, and it was slipping away. When the conversation finally ended, Jungkook turned, a smile in place. But it didn't reach his eyes.

"Excuse me," Y/n began, her voice barely a whisper above the murmuring crowd. "Hi, Professor Jungkook."

His smile faltered for a brief moment, a flicker of something she couldn't decipher crossing his features. Then, it was replaced by a polite smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Forgive me," he said, his voice smooth and professional. "But I don't believe we've met."

The words struck Y/n like a physical blow. The sting of public humiliation burned in her cheeks.

How could he deny her?

How could he pretend not to know her, not here, in front of everyone?

She opened her mouth to speak, to remind him, but the words caught in her throat. This wasn't the place. This wasn't the time.

"Actually," she stammered, trying to force a smile. "I'm a student at Jenesis University. You, uh, you might not remember…"

Jungkook cut her off with a polite nod. "Jenesis University, a fine institution indeed. We receive many bright students from there." His voice was devoid of warmth, a practiced neutrality that sent chills down her spine.

"Yes," Y/n mumbled, feeling a wave of nausea creeping over her. Every word out of his mouth felt like a veiled denial, a dismissal of their connection. He claimed not to know her, not here, in his gilded world, where their secret held no currency.

The weight of the unspoken truth – the life growing within her – pressed down on her like a physical presence.

Here, in this world of chandeliers and high-powered deals, the child they had created together seemed like a shameful secret, a burden best hidden from the glittering eyes.

Tears pricked at her eyes, blurring the image of Jungkook before her. He seemed even more distant now, surrounded by a force field of wealth and privilege.

In that moment, Y/n felt utterly alone, a small, insignificant figure lost in a world that sparkled but offered no warmth, no sanctuary.

"Excuse me, Professor Jungkook," Y/n said, her voice shaky but determined. "Could I please have two minutes of your time? Just to talk, privately?"

Jungkook's smile faltered slightly. He glanced around them, taking in the expectant faces of the people surrounding him. A brief frown creased his forehead.

"Miss Kim," he began, his voice low, "this isn't really the best time. You know that, right?"

"Please," she pleaded, her voice barely a whisper. "It's important. Really important. It can't wait."

Jungkook hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning her face. The raw emotion in her eyes seemed to pierce through his facade for a fleeting moment. But then, the moment passed.

With a choked sob, she mumbled a barely audible excuse and turned away, pushing her way back through the crowd. She felt lost, adrift in a sea of strangers, the weight of his denial a heavy stone in her chest.

"Actually," he said, his voice regaining its professional tone, "I don't hold the position of director at Jenesis anymore. You might want to try contacting Jimin Park about any student-related matters."

The words hit Y/n like a physical blow. Jimin? What did he mean by Jimin?

"But…" she stammered, her mind racing. "The time… and you…"

Just as she was about to speak further, a booming voice cut through the air.

"Jungkook!" bellowed Mr. Jeon, his voice amplified by a microphone. "The stage awaits! Come join me for the big announcement!"

All eyes turned towards Mr. Jeon, who stood on a brightly lit platform, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. The crowd erupted in applause, anticipation hanging heavy in the air.

Jungkook sighed, a hint of frustration flickering in his eyes. He turned back to Y/n, his expression apologetic.

"Duty calls, I'm afraid," he said, his voice barely a murmur. "We can talk another time. Perhaps you could…"

He trailed off, his words drowned out by the enthusiastic chanting of the crowd.

With a helpless shrug, Jungkook offered a tight smile and began to navigate his way through the throng towards the stage. Y/n watched him go, the words "big announcement" echoing in her mind.

A strange sense of foreboding washed over her. This was not how she had planned this conversation. Left alone amidst the cheering crowd, Y/n felt utterly lost, the truth she carried heavier than ever.

A hush fell over the opulent hall as all eyes turned towards a figure at the stage bathed in a soft spotlight. It was none other than Mr. Jeon, Jungkook's father, his posture ramrod straight, exuding an air of immense pride. He cleared his throat, the clinking of crystal against crystal momentarily stilled.

"Distinguished guests, esteemed colleagues, and dearest family," he boomed, his voice echoing through the cavernous hall.

"Tonight, we celebrate not only a momentous occasion but the culmination of a truly epic love story!"

Y/n's vision blurred.

Love story?

The past few months, filled with unanswered calls and a chilling silence where his promises used to reside, mocked the sentiment.

Her hand instinctively cradled her abdomen, the tiny life growing within a stark reminder of their stolen moments.

A collective murmur of anticipation rippled through the crowd. Y/n, her heart a fragile bird trapped in her chest, gripped the champagne flute tighter, knuckles white.

"My son, Jeon Jungkook," Mr. Jeon continued, his voice dropping to a dramatic register, "has found his happily ever after! A love story born on foreign soil, amidst the hallowed halls of academia!"

A photo montage flickered to life behind him – a dazzling display of Jungkook, all smiles, with a woman Y/n had never met. Catherine, with her cascading blonde hair and an air of icy elegance, seemed to belong to a world far removed from Y/n's own.

"You see," Mr. Jeon continued, his voice booming with a hint of amusement, "my son here isn't exactly known for his… uh… smooth moves with the ladies. Rather, he's stayed away from them all his life."

Another wave of laughter washed over the guests, a few sympathetic glances flickering towards Jungkook.

Jungkook, ever the picture of nonchalance, shrugged and mouthed a silent "hey!" towards his father. Mr. Jeon with a playful jab towards his son, launched into his tale.

"Let's just say, it took Jungkook about a year and approximately 37 bouquets of lilies" – he shot a pointed look at Jungkook – "to finally convince a certain beautiful woman to have dinner with him."

"There were language barriers to overcome" – he mimicked a hilariously bad French accent – "cultural faux pas aplenty" – a mischievous glint lit his eyes – "and enough near-death experiences involving rogue pigeons to make a lesser man run for the hills."

"But through it all," Mr. Jeon declared, his voice turning sincere, "Jungkook never gave up. And that, my friends, is a testament to the power of true… persistence and love."

"And the most joyous news," Mr. Jeon's voice declared, a predatory glint in his eyes, "is that the wedding will take place in a mere seven days!"

Seven days.

A week from now, the man who had whispered sweet nothings into her ear, cradled her out of her troubles who would be pledging his life to another.

The news hit Y/n like a physical blow, the breath catching in her throat. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over, blurring the image of the happy couple on the screen.

A wave of nausea washed over her. The untouched champagne flute felt heavy in her hand, a bitter symbol of a celebration that excluded her.

She excused herself, the room tilting as she made her way out, each step a battle against the storm raging within.

In the cool night air, Y/n finally allowed the tears to fall, a silent symphony of heartbreak.

The weight of his absence, amplified by the news of his impending wedding, pressed down on her with a crushing force.

How could he have built a whole new life, a picture-perfect love story, while the one he'd woven with her lay in tatters?

The future she'd envisioned, a future with him, with their child, seemed to dissolve into dust, leaving behind a gaping hole of uncertainty..........A/n : Pain is all I know. But it'll end soon, I promise :)