Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The air between us feels like glass,
Fragile, splintered, moments past.
Every word a careful step,
Yet silence holds the louder depth.

Your gaze, a flame that once burned bright,
Now flickers dim in shadowed light.
I reach for you, but meet the cold,
The warmth we shared feels tired, old.

Do we keep walking on this thread,
A path of memories we have bled?
Or let it go, release the strain,
To find a world beyond the pain?

The love we built still stands in part,
A broken home within my heart.
Yet here we are, unsure, afraid,
Of choices made, or left delayed.

If we let go, will we regret,
The times we loved, the day we met?
But if we stay, will we decay,
Into strangers who just fade away?

Should we break, or should we not?
The answer lies in what we've got.
But tell me, love, how can we start,
When doubt has torn us both apart?

✨

The attic was always the same—a place full of dusty boxes, forgotten knick-knacks, and the faint scent of age and disuse. I had come up here in search of a spare blanket, but as I shifted through the chaos, my fingers brushed against a weathered cardboard box I didn't recognize.

Curiosity got the better of me. I pulled the box down and opened it, revealing an assortment of old photo albums, notebooks, and letters. Most of it seemed like Jungkook's things from before we met, remnants of a life I didn't know much about.

I smiled faintly as I flipped through a few albums. There was Jungkook as a teenager, his big doe eyes and radiant smile the same as they were now, even if the years had softened his youthful edges. But then my hand froze on a particular photo.

It was a picture of Jungkook and a girl I didn't recognize. She was beautiful, with long black hair and a soft smile, standing close to him as though the space between them didn't exist. The corners of the photo were slightly curled, and scrawled across the bottom in Jungkook's unmistakable handwriting were the words:

"Han So Hee - Summer '08"

A knot formed in my stomach as I turned the photo over. On the back, there was a note written in a rushed, almost messy script:

So Hee,
You make my heart race like nothing else. Every day with you feels like the start of something beautiful. I don't know where we'll end up, but I hope it's always together.

The words felt like a punch to the gut—innocent and sweet, but heavy with the weight of their meaning.

Jungkook had never mentioned a Han So Hee. Not once in fifteen years of marriage. I had assumed I knew everything about him: his childhood, his friendships, even his embarrassing teenage phases. But this girl—this moment captured in time—was a stranger to me.

I sifted through more of the box, finding more photos of them together, all radiating the same youthful warmth. Picnics, arcade trips, and quiet moments where they just seemed happy in each other's company. It felt intrusive to look, but I couldn't stop myself.

Who was she?

By the time I returned downstairs, my mind was spinning. The photo and love letter burned in my pocket, a reminder of something I wasn't sure I wanted to bring up.

Jungkook was sitting on the couch, his phone in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. He looked up as I entered the room, his expression casual and unbothered. "Find the blanket?"

"No," I said too quickly. My voice betrayed me, and Jungkook's brows furrowed slightly.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," I lied. I hated how unnatural it sounded, how out of place the word felt in the midst of my turmoil.

He didn't press me, turning back to his phone, and I stared at him, wondering if the man I had spent half my life with was really the same boy who wrote those words to someone else.

The next morning, I was in the garden, mindlessly watering the plants, when I saw the moving truck pull up to the house next door.

It had been vacant for months, so I watched with idle curiosity as a young woman stepped out, giving instructions to the movers. She was strikingly familiar—long black hair and a soft, easy smile that seemed to light up her face. My heart stopped as realization dawned.

It was her.

Han So Hee.

I stood frozen, gripping the garden hose like it might tether me to reality. Of all the places she could have moved, it had to be next door.

She glanced in my direction and waved politely. "Hi! I'm your new neighbor!"

I managed a weak smile, the kind you give when you're not sure how to react. "Hi," I called back, my voice thin.

She walked closer, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Up close, she looked older, more mature, but there was no mistaking her.

"I'm Han So Hee," she said cheerfully. "I just moved in. I hope I won't disturb you while we settle in."

My stomach twisted at her name. It felt surreal hearing it from her own lips. "Seokjin," I replied, forcing my voice to stay steady. "It's, uh, nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," she said with a bright smile. "This seems like a lovely neighborhood."

I nodded, words failing me. My mind was racing, trying to process the absurdity of the situation. She had no idea who I was. No idea that her face and name had just disrupted fifteen years of stability in my marriage.

"Well, I should get back to unpacking," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "See you around, neighbor!"

I stood there long after she had walked away, gripping the garden hose like it was my lifeline. My thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and insecurity.

Jungkook hadn't mentioned her. Did he even know? How was I supposed to bring this up?

When I went back inside, Jungkook was sitting at the dining table, scrolling through his phone as usual. I stared at him, wondering if the past we'd built our lives on was as solid as I thought—or if it was about to collapse under the weight of the memories he hadn't shared.

"Jungkook," I said, my voice quiet but steady.

He looked up, his brows lifting. "Yeah?"

I hesitated, the photo and letter burning in my mind. But instead of mentioning it, I just shook my head. "Nothing."

For now, I kept it to myself. But I knew it wouldn't stay buried for long.

The days in our house were slow and quiet, often too quiet.

I worked at my desk in the upstairs study, staring at the blinking cursor on my laptop screen. Freelance writing had its perks—flexibility, creativity—but in a house this big, it also came with an unshakable sense of isolation. The silence during the day was deafening, broken only by the occasional creak of the floorboards or the hum of the fridge downstairs.

Jungkook had insisted I work from home. His office job paid well enough for us to live comfortably, and he wanted me to enjoy the freedom of pursuing my passions. It had sounded like a dream in the beginning, but now, years later, it felt more like a gilded cage.

I sighed, closing my laptop. My thoughts drifted, as they often did these days, to the idea of adopting a child.

I had brought it up to Jungkook several times over the years, but the conversations always ended the same way—with a soft smile and a shake of his head. "I just want to enjoy more time with you," he would say, his voice gentle but firm.

It was a sweet sentiment, but it left me feeling empty. We already had all the time in the world, yet we spent most of it apart, caught up in our routines.

Now, though, there was something else occupying my mind. The new neighbor. Han So Hee.

I hadn't told Jungkook about her yet. Part of me was hoping he wouldn't notice, that he wouldn't connect the dots. But the other part of me—fueled by insecurity and paranoia—wondered if he already knew and just wasn't saying anything.

I tried to brush the thoughts away, focusing instead on the mundane task of tidying up the living room. But they lingered, gnawing at the edges of my mind.

It was early evening when the doorbell rang. The chime echoed through the house, startling me out of my thoughts.

I opened the door to find her standing there—Han So Hee, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a bright smile on her face.

"Hi, Seokjin!" she said cheerfully. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

I forced a smile, trying to mask the unease curling in my stomach. "No, not at all. Is everything okay?"

"Yes, I just..." She held up the wine bottle as though it explained everything. "I wanted to invite you and your partner over for dinner tomorrow night. Just a little something to get to know each other better."

I blinked, caught off guard. "Oh, that's... thoughtful of you."

"It's nothing fancy," she continued, her smile unwavering. "Just a casual dinner. I figured it'd be nice to meet the neighbors properly."

Her eyes were kind and genuine, but I couldn't shake the feeling that the universe was playing some cruel joke on me.

"We'd love to," I said before I could stop myself.

"Great!" She beamed. "Tomorrow at seven, then. I'll see you both."

She handed me the wine bottle as though sealing the deal, then turned and walked back toward her house. I stood there for a moment, watching her retreating figure and wondering what Jungkook would think about this—if he even remembered her.

That night, over dinner, I tried to broach the subject.

"So, the new neighbors seem nice," I said, keeping my tone casual as I poked at my plate of pasta.

Jungkook glanced up from his food, his expression unreadable. "Yeah? You've met them?"

I nodded. "The woman who moved in next door came by earlier. She invited us to dinner tomorrow night."

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement tugging at his lips. "Dinner? That's a bit formal for new neighbors."

"She seems... friendly," I said, carefully choosing my words.

Jungkook shrugged, his focus already shifting back to his plate. "Sure, why not? It'll be nice to meet them."

I studied him, searching for any sign of recognition, but his face remained neutral. He didn't remember her. Or if he did, he was hiding it well.

The thought should have reassured me, but it didn't. Instead, it left me feeling more uncertain than ever.

The next day passed in a haze of nervous energy. I couldn't concentrate on work, my thoughts constantly circling back to the dinner. What would she say? What would Jungkook say?

When he came home from work, I was already dressed and ready to go, trying not to fidget as he changed into something more casual.

"You seem tense," he said, pulling on a sweater.

"Just... not used to dinner invitations from neighbors," I said with a weak smile.

He laughed softly, brushing past me to grab his coat. "Relax. It's just dinner."

But as we walked next door and rang the bell, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something far from simple. When Han So Hee opened the door, her face lighting up at the sight of us, I saw Jungkook's expression change—just for a second, a flicker of something I couldn't quite place.

And in that moment, I knew the quiet life we had built was about to be tested in ways I wasn't sure we were ready for.

Dinner was simple but well-prepared—grilled salmon, roasted vegetables, and a small side of fresh bread that Han So Hee claimed she had baked herself. The table was set with care, candles flickering softly in the center, casting warm light over the neatly arranged dishes.

But despite the welcoming atmosphere, the tension at the table was palpable.

Jungkook was quieter than usual, his movements deliberate as he cut into his food. Han So Hee, for all her charm and effortless hosting, seemed just a little too eager to keep the conversation flowing, her words coming fast and bright. And me? I sat there, forcing myself to smile, to nod, to laugh at the appropriate times, all while pretending not to notice the subtle awkwardness that hung between them.

"So, Seokjin," So Hee said, turning her attention to me. "What do you do?"

"I'm a freelance writer," I replied, taking a sip of my wine.

Her eyes lit up with genuine interest. "That's amazing! What kind of things do you write?"

"Mostly articles and reviews," I said, keeping my tone light. "Some creative pieces here and there, when inspiration strikes."

"That sounds like such a dream job," she said warmly. "Working from home, being your own boss..."

"It has its perks," I agreed. "But it can get a little lonely sometimes."

I saw her glance briefly at Jungkook, and I couldn't help but wonder if she was imagining him in this house, in this life, fifteen years later. Did she envy it? Or was she simply curious?

"And you?" she asked, turning to Jungkook. "What do you do?"

He hesitated, his fork pausing midway to his mouth. "I work in corporate," he said simply, his voice measured. "Marketing and strategy."

So Hee nodded, smiling softly. "I always knew you'd end up doing something big."

The words hung in the air for a moment too long, the weight of their familiarity pressing down on the table. Jungkook didn't respond, only nodding slightly before returning to his meal.

I smiled tightly, pretending not to notice the way his shoulders tensed at her words or how her voice softened whenever she addressed him.

"So, what brought you to this neighborhood?" I asked, steering the conversation away from Jungkook.

"Oh, it's just a fresh start," she said, her smile brightening again. "I've been wanting to settle down somewhere quieter for a while. This place just felt... right."

I nodded, biting back the questions swirling in my mind. Why here? Why now?

The rest of dinner passed in a blur of polite conversation and forced laughter. So Hee shared stories about her career in design, her love for baking, and her plans to make the house next door her home. Jungkook chimed in occasionally, his words careful and brief, while I did my best to fill the silences with lighthearted anecdotes.

But beneath the surface, my mind was racing. I caught the subtle glances they exchanged—the kind you might miss if you weren't looking for them. I noticed the way Jungkook avoided meeting her gaze for too long, as though he were afraid of what might show. And So Hee... she tried so hard to seem casual, but there was something in her eyes, something unreadable, that made me uneasy.

After dinner, So Hee offered us dessert—homemade tiramisu—but Jungkook declined, saying we had to get home early.

"Thank you for having us," I said as we stood by the door, my smile polite but strained.

"It was lovely meeting you, Seokjin," she said, her eyes warm. Then she turned to Jungkook. "And you, of course."

He nodded, his expression unreadable. "Goodnight, So Hee."

As we stepped outside, the cool night air hit me like a breath of fresh clarity. I glanced at Jungkook as we walked back to our house, but he kept his eyes ahead, his hands buried in his pockets.

When we got home, Jungkook headed straight for the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. I leaned against the counter, watching him closely.

"Did you notice anything... odd about tonight?" I asked, my voice calm but probing.

He paused, the glass halfway to his lips. "Odd? No. Why?"

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "You seemed a little... quiet, that's all."

He sipped his water, avoiding my gaze. "Just tired from work. You know how it is."

I nodded slowly, the lie sitting heavy between us. "She seems nice," I said, testing the waters.

"Yeah," he said quickly, too quickly. "Friendly."

He placed the glass in the sink and turned to leave the room, but I wasn't ready to let it go.

"Jungkook."

He stopped in the doorway, his back to me.

I hesitated, the question on the tip of my tongue. But instead of asking, I let out a sigh and said, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Jin," he said softly before heading upstairs.

I stood there for a long time, staring at the empty glass in the sink. The silence in the house felt heavier than usual, pressing down on me with the weight of unspoken truths.

I didn't know what Jungkook was hiding—or if he was hiding anything at all. But one thing was clear: Han So Hee's presence had stirred something in him, something he wasn't ready to confront. And if I wasn't careful, it might stir something in me, too.

The bed felt emptier than usual when I woke up. Jungkook wasn't there, but it wasn't uncommon for him to slip out early for a morning jog. He had always said he liked the peace and solitude of the early hours—the crisp air, the stillness before the world woke up.

I stretched, my hand brushing against the cool sheets on his side of the bed, and sighed. Pushing myself up, I decided to start breakfast. It was a small ritual of mine whenever he went jogging—a way to ground myself, to keep the quiet of the house from swallowing me whole.

The kitchen was still dim as I made my way downstairs, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound breaking the silence. I set a pot of water to boil for tea and began cracking eggs into a bowl, the rhythmic sound oddly comforting.

I was halfway through slicing bread when something caught my eye. The kitchen window faced the road in front of our house, and from this angle, I had a clear view of the street. At first, it was just a blur of movement that drew my attention. But when I looked closer, my hands froze.

Jungkook was there, standing on the side of the road, talking to someone.

It was Han So Hee.

She was dressed in a sleek jogging outfit, her long black hair tied back into a ponytail, and her cheeks were flushed, probably from exertion. Jungkook was wearing his usual jogging gear—black sweatpants and a fitted hoodie that clung to his frame.

From the way they stood, it was clear they'd run into each other—or perhaps they had jogged together. The thought made my stomach twist uncomfortably.

Their conversation looked casual enough, but there was an ease between them that I couldn't ignore. Jungkook smiled at something she said, his expression lighter than it had been in days. So Hee laughed, her hand briefly brushing against his arm as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I didn't need to. The scene before me was enough to send a flood of emotions crashing over me—confusion, jealousy, and an ache that I couldn't quite name.

Was this just a coincidence? Or had they planned to meet?

I stood there, paralyzed, the knife in my hand hovering over the cutting board. A part of me wanted to march outside and interrupt them, to remind Jungkook—and maybe even So Hee—that I was here, that I wasn't some invisible figure in the background of their lives.

But another part of me... hesitated.

I watched as they finished their conversation. So Hee gave Jungkook a parting smile before jogging off down the road. Jungkook lingered for a moment, staring after her, before turning back toward the house.

The sound of the front door opening snapped me out of my trance. I quickly turned back to the cutting board, pretending to focus on the bread. My hands trembled as I sliced through it, the rhythmic motion doing little to calm the storm inside me.

"Good morning," Jungkook said as he entered the kitchen, his voice warm but casual, as if nothing had happened.

"Morning," I replied, keeping my tone light. I didn't turn to face him, afraid he'd see the tension etched into my features.

He walked over to the counter, pouring himself a glass of water. "Smells good. What're you making?"

"Just eggs and toast," I said, my voice steady despite the chaos in my chest. "You hungry?"

"Starving," he said with a small laugh, and I hated how easy it sounded—how unaffected he seemed.

I finished preparing the food in silence, my mind racing. The image of them together lingered, burned into my memory. I wanted to ask him about it, to demand an explanation, but I couldn't bring myself to say the words.

Instead, I placed the plates on the table and sat across from him, watching as he dug into his food. He didn't notice the way my gaze lingered, the questions that burned behind my eyes.

It wasn't just jealousy that gripped me. It was something deeper—fear. Fear that whatever was happening between them, however innocent it might seem, could be the crack that broke us apart.

"Did you run into anyone this morning?" I asked finally, my voice as casual as I could manage.

Jungkook glanced up, pausing mid-bite. "Hmm? Oh, yeah. I ran into the neighbor."

My heart thudded painfully in my chest. "Han So Hee?"

"Yeah," he said, shrugging. "We just talked for a bit. She was out jogging too."

His answer was simple, almost dismissive, but it didn't ease the knot in my stomach.

"What did you talk about?" I pressed, trying to keep my tone neutral.

"Nothing much," he said, his focus returning to his plate. "Just the usual stuff—work, the neighborhood, things like that."

I nodded, forcing myself to smile. "She seems nice."

"She is," he said, and that was the end of it.

But as we sat there, the silence between us feeling heavier than usual, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. Whether it was between Jungkook and me—or Jungkook and her—I didn't know.

All I knew was that the cracks in our marriage, the ones I had been trying so hard to ignore, felt wider than ever.

The weekends used to feel special. I remembered how we'd spend them exploring new restaurants, catching the latest movies, or simply walking through the park hand-in-hand, talking about anything and everything. But now, fifteen years into our marriage, weekends had turned into lazy stretches of time spent on the couch, watching Netflix or scrolling through our phones.

Jungkook sat at the other end of the couch, his eyes fixed on the TV screen as an action movie played. He seemed comfortable, completely at ease, but I couldn't shake the restlessness building inside me.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye, the soft glow of the TV highlighting his sharp features. He looked the same as he always had—handsome, with a quiet confidence that had once drawn me in like a magnet. But something about him felt distant, as though a part of him had drifted away over the years, and I hadn't noticed until now.

When did we stop trying?

It was a question I didn't have an answer to. Our dates had slowly faded away, replaced by routines and responsibilities. The spark that had once burned so brightly between us now felt like embers, warm but faint.

I wondered if he ever missed the way things used to be. Did he notice how far we'd drifted, or was he content with the quiet monotony of our lives?

The thought made my chest ache. I hated feeling like this—like I was the only one fighting to keep us from fading into strangers.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I barely noticed the sound of the doorbell ringing.

Jungkook glanced at me briefly. "I'll get it," he said, getting up from the couch.

I heard the door creak open, followed by a familiar, cheerful voice.

"Hi, Jungkook!"

I stiffened at the sound, my heart sinking.

"Oh, hey, So Hee," Jungkook replied, his tone warm but casual. "What's up?"

I got up from the couch and walked toward the doorway, curiosity and unease pulling me forward. There she was—Han So Hee—standing at our doorstep with a neatly arranged box in her hands.

"I made some macarons," she said, holding out the box with a smile. "Thought I'd share them with my lovely neighbors."

"That's so thoughtful," Jungkook said, taking the box from her. His smile was soft, the kind he rarely wore these days.

I stood behind him, watching their interaction with an uneasy feeling in my chest.

"Thank you, So Hee," I said, stepping forward and forcing a polite smile. "That's really kind of you."

"Oh, it's nothing," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "Baking is kind of my stress relief. I thought you two might enjoy them."

"We'll definitely try them," Jungkook said, his voice warmer than usual. "They look great."

There was something about the way they spoke to each other that set me on edge. It wasn't inappropriate or overly familiar, but it was different from the awkward tension I'd seen between them at the dinner. Their interaction now felt... easy, natural, like they'd settled into a rhythm that didn't include me.

I studied Jungkook's expression as he chatted with her, noting the way his posture seemed more relaxed, his tone lighter. He wasn't like this at home, not with me.

I forced myself to stay composed, even as a million questions raced through my mind. Was it me? Was I the reason he seemed so different now?

After a few minutes, So Hee said her goodbyes, promising to drop by again sometime. Jungkook thanked her once more, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

He turned to me, holding up the box with a small smile. "She's really nice, isn't she?"

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Yeah. She is."

Jungkook placed the macarons on the coffee table and sat back down on the couch, picking up the remote as though nothing had happened.

But something had happened—something I couldn't quite put into words. I sat down beside him, my thoughts swirling.

The way he had spoken to her, the warmth in his voice... it wasn't that he was being unfaithful. I didn't think Jungkook would ever cross that line. But it was the kind of warmth I hadn't felt from him in a long time, the kind of effort I didn't realize I missed until I saw him giving it to someone else.

We sat there in silence, the movie playing on, but I couldn't focus. My mind was a storm of doubts and fears, each one louder than the last.

Had he grown tired of me? Was this just what happened to love over time?

The weight of it all felt unbearable, and for the first time in fifteen years, I found myself questioning if we still knew how to love each other—or if we had simply forgotten how.

Sunday morning, I woke up with a quiet determination. I had decided that today, I'd try to recapture what we'd lost—what I felt slipping further away with each passing day.

As we sat at the breakfast table, I broached the idea carefully.

"Jungkook," I said, trying to sound casual, "I was thinking... maybe we could go out today. You know, like we used to."

He glanced up from his coffee, his expression neutral. "Go out?"

"Yeah," I said, a faint smile tugging at my lips. "A date. Maybe a movie, a walk in the park, dinner at that Italian place we love. It's been a while since we've done anything like that."

Jungkook's brows furrowed slightly, and for a moment, I thought he might say no. But then he shrugged and nodded. "Sure, if you want. You've been stuck at home a lot lately. It'll be good for you to get out."

The words stung more than I expected. I had hoped he'd seem excited, or at least interested, but his agreement felt like he was doing me a favor, not something he genuinely wanted. Still, I pushed the thought aside, telling myself that maybe he'd warm up to the idea once we were out.

The day was bright and clear as we headed to the movie theater. Jungkook let me pick the film, though I noticed he didn't seem particularly invested in the choice. During the movie, I glanced at him a few times, hoping to see him laughing or reacting to the scenes, but his expression remained indifferent.

It wasn't like this before. We used to whisper excitedly to each other during movies, sharing popcorn and nudging each other during the good parts. Now, we sat in silence, the gulf between us feeling wider than the empty seat separating the couple in front of us.

After the movie, we walked to the nearby park. The late afternoon sun bathed everything in golden light, and the air was crisp and cool. Around us, younger couples strolled hand in hand, their laughter and quiet conversations blending with the sound of birds and rustling leaves.

I glanced at Jungkook, who walked beside me with his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed ahead. I wanted to reach for his hand, to feel the warmth of his skin against mine, but something held me back.

Instead, I watched the other couples—how they leaned into each other, how their smiles seemed effortless, how their love felt tangible even from a distance.

Why don't we look like that anymore?

As we approached the lake, the sunset painted the sky in hues of orange and pink. It was beautiful, but the silence between us made it feel hollow.

"This is nice," I said softly, breaking the quiet.

"Yeah," Jungkook replied, his tone flat.

I studied his profile, searching for a spark of the man I used to know—the man who used to make me laugh until my sides hurt, who used to pull me close without a second thought, who used to look at me like I was his whole world.

But all I saw was a man who seemed... distant.

Dinner at the Italian restaurant was no better. The food was as good as I remembered, but the atmosphere felt off. Jungkook scrolled through his phone while we waited for our meals, occasionally glancing up to make a comment about the décor or the music.

I tried to start a conversation. "Do you remember the first time we came here?"

He looked up briefly, nodding. "Yeah, it was our anniversary. The lasagna was amazing."

I smiled faintly, waiting for him to say more, but he didn't. Instead, he returned to his phone, leaving me to sit in the heavy silence.

The meal passed in much the same way—forced small talk and long stretches of quiet. By the time we left the restaurant, I felt more drained than I had in weeks.

As we drove home, I stared out the window, my thoughts swirling.

Was this what fifteen years of marriage did to people? Was it inevitable that love would fade, that the passion and excitement would be replaced by this quiet, unspoken detachment?

I wanted to believe it wasn't. I wanted to believe that we could still find our way back to each other, that the spark we once had wasn't gone forever. But today had shown me just how far apart we'd drifted, and the realization was almost too much to bear.

When we got home, Jungkook went straight to the bedroom, muttering something about being tired. I lingered in the living room, sitting on the couch where we used to cuddle and watch movies late into the night.

The house felt too big, too quiet.

I leaned back, closing my eyes, and tried to push the doubts away. But they kept coming, one after another, like waves crashing against a fragile shore.

Had Jungkook lost the spark? Or was it me? Had I stopped being enough for him? Had we both given up without realizing it?

As I sat there, the weight of my insecurities pressing down on me, I couldn't help but wonder if we were holding on to something that no longer existed—or if there was still something worth saving.

It had been weeks since our ill-fated date, and I had convinced myself to stop overthinking—at least, that's what I told myself. Jungkook and I slipped back into our usual routine: him working long hours, me spending my days at home in the quiet solitude of writing. We didn't talk about the growing distance between us, didn't address the weight that hung heavy in the air.

But then, one Saturday afternoon, I saw them again.

I was folding laundry in the living room when a glimpse of movement outside the window caught my attention. There they were—Jungkook and Han So Hee, standing near the garden fence, their postures relaxed as they talked.

Jungkook looked different. His shoulders were looser, his smile brighter, and his laughter reached me even through the closed windows. It was the kind of lightness I hadn't seen in him for months—maybe even years.

I told myself it was nothing, just a friendly chat between neighbors. But jealousy twisted in my chest, sharp and unforgiving.

I couldn't stop myself. I stepped outside, putting on my best polite smile as I approached them.

"Hey," I called out, making them both turn to look at me.

Jungkook's smile faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered. "Oh, hey, Jin. We were just talking about the neighborhood."

"Hi, Seokjin," So Hee said brightly. "I was just telling Jungkook about a new café I found downtown. They have the best pastries—I'll have to bring some over for you both to try."

"That sounds nice," I said, my tone a touch too smooth. "Maybe we can all go together sometime."

So Hee nodded, oblivious to the tension simmering beneath the surface. "That'd be great! I'll let you know when I'm free."

The conversation shifted to mundane topics after that—weather, local events—but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was an outsider intruding on something private. Jungkook seemed distracted, his laughter and responses a little stiffer now that I was there.

When So Hee excused herself, waving goodbye as she jogged back to her house, Jungkook let out a quiet sigh.

"She's nice, isn't she?" he said, his voice casual.

I nodded, forcing a smile. "She is."

But inside, the storm was building.

That night, as we got ready for bed, I couldn't hold it in any longer. The sight of them together—so easy, so comfortable—kept replaying in my mind, fanning the flames of my jealousy and insecurity.

Jungkook was already lying in bed, scrolling through his phone, when I finally spoke.

"Jungkook," I said quietly, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

"Hmm?" he replied without looking up.

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding. "I found something a few weeks ago. In the attic."

That got his attention. He lowered his phone, his brows furrowing slightly. "What did you find?"

"Your box," I said, my voice steady but soft. "The one with the photos and letters."

He stared at me, his expression unreadable. "You went through my things?"

"I wasn't looking for it," I said quickly, my hands gripping the edge of the mattress. "I was looking for a blanket, and I stumbled across it. I... I saw the photos of you and Han So Hee."

Jungkook sat up, his posture tense. "Jin, that was a long time ago."

"I know," I said, my voice rising slightly. "But you never mentioned her. Not once in fifteen years. And now, she's here, right next door, and you're... I don't know."

"You don't know what?" he asked, his tone defensive.

"I don't know how to feel about this," I admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I see the way you look when you talk to her. You're happy, Jungkook. Lighter. More alive than you've been in months. And it makes me wonder if I've been doing something wrong, if I'm the reason you've been so distant."

Jungkook's eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked genuinely startled. "Jin, no. That's not... That's not what's happening."

"Then what is?" I asked, my voice breaking. "Because I feel like I'm losing you, Jungkook. I feel like I'm watching you slip away, and I don't know how to stop it."

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "Jin, So Hee was my first love. That's it. We were kids. It was sweet and innocent, but it's in the past. She means nothing to me now."

"Then why do you act so different around her?" I pressed. "Why do you seem so... alive?"

Jungkook opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he looked down at his hands, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"I don't know," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe... maybe it's because she reminds me of a time when everything felt simpler. When life wasn't so heavy."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut.

"And what about us?" I asked, my voice trembling. "Do you feel like that with me? Or am I just part of what makes life so heavy now?"

Jungkook looked up, his eyes filled with something I couldn't quite place—guilt, sadness, maybe both. "Jin, I love you. I always have. But... I don't know how to fix this. I don't know how to go back to the way things used to be."

The weight of his confession settled over us like a suffocating blanket. For the first time, I realized that the cracks in our marriage weren't just my insecurities—they were real, and they were growing.

I turned away, lying down on my side and pulling the blanket up to my chin. My chest ached with unshed tears, but I refused to cry.

"Goodnight, Jungkook," I said quietly.

He didn't respond right away. When he finally did, his voice was soft and uncertain.

"Goodnight, Jin."

As the silence of the night wrapped around us, I couldn't help but wonder if love—our love—was enough to mend what had been broken. Or if we were destined to keep falling apart.

The morning after our conversation, I woke up early and went about my usual routine, but everything felt hollow. My movements were mechanical as I prepared breakfast for Jungkook—eggs, toast, and his favorite black coffee.

When he came downstairs, I was already sitting at the table, my hands wrapped around a mug of tea that had long gone cold. He mumbled a quiet "Good morning" as he sat down, and I responded with a nod, barely looking at him.

As soon as he started eating, I excused myself and retreated to my writing room, locking the door behind me. It was the only place in the house where I felt like I could breathe, where the weight of his presence didn't press down on me.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I heard Jungkook leave for work, the door clicking shut behind him, and the house fell into its usual quiet. But this time, the silence felt different—heavier, more suffocating.

I spent the afternoon cleaning and redecorating the guest room, my hands moving with purpose even as my mind raced with doubts and questions. The room had been mostly unused for years, a place where we stored odds and ends, but now I wanted it to be something else. A space for me. A sanctuary.

By the time Jungkook came home, dinner was ready and waiting for him on the table—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and steamed vegetables. But I didn't join him. I stayed in the guest room, adding the finishing touches to what I was slowly starting to think of as my room.

Later that night, Jungkook came looking for me. He knocked softly on the door, his voice hesitant.

"Jin? What are you doing in there?"

I didn't respond. I sat on the bed, staring at the freshly painted walls, my thoughts swirling.

After a few moments, the door opened, and Jungkook stepped inside. His expression was a mix of confusion and concern.

"Why aren't you in our room?" he asked, his voice low. "What's going on, Jin?"

I looked at him, my chest tightening as the words I'd been holding back all day finally spilled out.

"I don't think I can do this anymore," I said quietly, my voice trembling.

He froze, his eyes widening. "What are you talking about?"

"This," I said, gesturing vaguely around the room. "Us. This marriage. It feels... useless. Living with a partner who feels like a stranger in a house this big—it's meaningless, Jungkook. It's suffocating."

"Jin..." His voice cracked, and he took a step closer. "Don't say that. We're just going through a rough patch. Every couple does."

"A rough patch?" I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. "This isn't a rough patch, Jungkook. This is fifteen years of us drifting apart, pretending everything is fine when it isn't. I'm tired. I'm so tired of pretending."

He knelt in front of me, his hands reaching for mine, but I pulled away. The hurt in his eyes was almost unbearable, but I couldn't stop.

"You don't even look at me the way you used to," I said, my voice breaking. "You're more alive talking to Han So Hee than you are with me. I've watched you become someone else, someone who doesn't need me anymore. And I... I can't keep holding on to something that's already gone."

Jungkook shook his head vehemently, his hands gripping my knees. "It's not gone, Jin. I still love you. I've always loved you."

"Then why does it feel like we're just two people sharing a house, not a life?" I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "Why does it feel like we're just... existing?"

He didn't have an answer.

I stood up, stepping away from him. "Maybe we should get divorced," I said, the words heavy but clear.

Jungkook's breath hitched, and he stared at me as though I'd just shattered his entire world. "Divorced?" he repeated, his voice barely audible. "Jin, no. You don't mean that."

"I do," I said firmly, though my heart ached with every word. "Maybe this marriage wasn't meant to last forever. Maybe it was just a journey we were supposed to take together for a while. But it's not working anymore, Jungkook. And I don't think it ever will."

He stood there, silent and frozen, as though he couldn't process what I was saying. Then, suddenly, he moved closer, his hands cupping my face.

"Please don't do this," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Please, Jin. We can fix this. I'll do whatever it takes. Just don't give up on us."

I pulled away, shaking my head. "It's too late, Jungkook. I've already given up."

I walked past him, locking myself in the writing room before he could follow me. My heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces, but I knew this was the only way to save myself.

As I sat at my desk, staring blankly at my laptop, I thought about calling Yoongi, our old friend who worked as a divorce lawyer. He'd always joked about helping us draft a prenup, never imagining we'd actually need his services.

The thought of speaking to him felt like admitting defeat, but deep down, I knew it was inevitable.

I didn't know if this was the end for us, but I couldn't keep living in this limbo. For the first time in years, I felt like I was making a decision for myself—not for Jungkook, not for the sake of our marriage, but for me.

And as much as it hurt, it also felt like the first step toward something new.

The morning sunlight poured through the kitchen window, but the air inside the house felt thick with the weight of everything left unsaid. As I descended the stairs, ready to start another day with the usual ritual of preparing breakfast, I stopped short at the sight before me.

Jungkook was in the kitchen, his back to me, fumbling with a frying pan. The smell of burnt toast wafted through the air, and a half-cracked egg lay abandoned on the counter.

"What is he doing now?" I muttered under my breath, leaning against the doorway.

He was clearly struggling, muttering curses under his breath as he tried to salvage whatever he was cooking. It was so unlike him—Jungkook rarely ever stepped into the kitchen unless it was to grab a quick snack or a drink.

A part of me wanted to go in and help, to tell him he was going to set off the smoke alarm if he didn't pay attention. But another part of me—one that had grown colder and more distant over the past few weeks—held me back.

Is he trying? I wondered. Or is this just another act to make himself feel better?

I turned away without a word, heading back upstairs. If this was his way of making amends, it was too little, too late.

Up in our room, I grabbed my handbag and car keys, my resolve hardening with every passing second. Today, I was going to see Yoongi.

Yoongi had always been a good friend, someone I could trust. He was blunt, pragmatic, and fiercely loyal—exactly the kind of person I needed right now. I knew he wouldn't sugarcoat anything, and that's what I needed: clarity.

As I made my way down the stairs, I heard Jungkook call out from the kitchen.

"Jin? Where are you going?"

I paused in the hallway, clutching my bag tightly. "Out."

"You're not going to have breakfast?" he asked, stepping into view. His hands were dusted with flour, and his shirt had a streak of something that looked suspiciously like batter.

"I'm meeting Yoongi," I said, my tone clipped.

Jungkook froze, the words hitting him like a slap. "Yoongi?" he repeated, his voice laced with disbelief.

I didn't need to elaborate. He knew exactly what Yoongi did for a living.

His face fell, and he took a hesitant step toward me. "Jin, wait. You don't have to do this. Please, just... just talk to me."

"We've talked, Jungkook," I said, my voice steady but cold. "And nothing's changed. You're just pretending now, trying to fix something that's been broken for years."

"I'm not pretending," he said quickly, his tone desperate. "I'm trying, Jin. I know I messed up. I know I've been distant, but I'll do better. I swear I will."

I shook my head, the weight of my decision settling heavily on my shoulders. "It's not just about you, Jungkook. It's about us. This marriage isn't working anymore, and no amount of burnt toast or awkward attempts at breakfast is going to fix that."

His eyes filled with panic, and he reached out to grab my arm. "Jin, please. Don't do this. Don't throw away fifteen years just like that."

I pulled my arm free, my chest tightening at the sight of him. "I'm not throwing it away, Jungkook. I'm letting it go. There's a difference."

Tears welled in his eyes, and for a moment, I saw the man I had fallen in love with—the man who had once made me feel like I was the center of his universe. But that man felt like a distant memory now, a ghost of a love that had long since faded.

"Jin," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Please. Just give me one more chance."

I hesitated, the weight of his words pressing down on me. But then I thought about the years of silence, the growing distance, the way I had felt more like a roommate than a partner. And I knew I couldn't keep living like this.

"I'm sorry, Jungkook," I said quietly, tears pricking at my own eyes. "But I need to do this. For me."

Without another word, I turned and walked out the door, the sound of it closing behind me echoing in my ears.

As I got into my car and started the engine, I glanced back at the house. Jungkook was standing in the doorway, his shoulders slumped, his face a mix of heartbreak and desperation.

For a moment, I almost went back. Almost.

But instead, I put the car in gear and drove away, the road ahead of me blurry through the tears I couldn't hold back any longer.

I didn't know what the future held, but I knew one thing for certain: I couldn't keep holding on to a love that no longer felt like home.

Yoongi's office was neat, the air faintly scented with the sharp tang of coffee and paper. His desk was stacked with case files, but when I entered, his face lit up with a familiar smile.

"Jin," he greeted warmly, standing to give me a brief hug. "It's been a while. What brings you here?"

I hesitated for a moment, gripping the strap of my handbag tightly. The words sat heavy in my throat, but I forced them out. "I need your help... with a divorce."

His smile faltered, replaced by a mix of confusion and concern. "Divorce?" He gestured for me to sit, studying me closely. "You're joking, right? You and Jungkook? What's going on?"

I sank into the chair, feeling the weight of everything settle over me. "I'm not joking, Yoongi. I can't do this anymore. I need out."

Yoongi leaned back, crossing his arms as he scrutinized me. "Okay, slow down. Start from the beginning. What's happened?"

I took a shaky breath, my emotions teetering on the edge. "It's been building for years. Jungkook and I... we're not the same anymore. The spark is gone. He's distant, and I'm tired of feeling like I'm the only one who cares."

Yoongi frowned, his tone gentle but firm. "That doesn't sound like something you can't work through, Jin. You've been married for fifteen years. Are you sure you're ready to walk away from all of that?"

"I've tried, Yoongi," I said, my voice rising as frustration bubbled to the surface. "I've tried talking to him, tried reconnecting. But it's like I'm talking to a wall. And then there's her."

"Her?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Our neighbor," I spat, the bitterness spilling out. "Han So Hee. His first love. She moved in next door, and suddenly Jungkook is light and happy again. He talks to her like he used to talk to me, smiles at her the way he hasn't smiled at me in years. It's like... I'm not enough anymore."

Yoongi leaned forward, his eyes softening. "Jin, are you sure this isn't just your insecurities talking? Maybe he's just being friendly—"

"It's not just about her!" I snapped, my voice cracking. "It's everything. The silence. The distance. The way he brushes me off, the way he acts like our marriage is just... something to endure. I'm done, Yoongi. I can't keep fighting for something he doesn't care about."

Yoongi sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Jin, I get it. You're hurt. You're angry. But divorce is a big decision. You can't make it in the heat of the moment."

"This isn't the heat of the moment," I said, my voice trembling with barely suppressed emotion. "This is years of disappointment and heartbreak. Years of feeling like I'm not enough, like I'm invisible in my own marriage. I've tried to fix it, Yoongi. I've given him chance after chance, and nothing changes."

He studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "And you're sure this is what you want? You're sure you're ready to give up on him?"

Tears stung my eyes as I nodded. "I'm not giving up, Yoongi. I've already given everything I have. There's nothing left."

Yoongi let out a long sigh, leaning back in his chair. "Okay," he said finally, his voice heavy. "If this is really what you want, I'll help you. But you need to be absolutely certain, Jin. Once you go down this road, there's no turning back."

"I'm certain," I said, though the words felt like shards of glass in my throat.

He nodded slowly, pulling out a notepad and pen. "Alright. Let's talk through the details. But promise me one thing."

"What?"

"Promise me you'll think about this one last time before we move forward. Not for me, not even for Jungkook—for yourself."

I nodded, though my heart was already set. As Yoongi began asking questions about assets and logistics, I couldn't help but feel the anger bubbling beneath the surface. Anger at Jungkook, at myself, at the years I had spent trying to hold on to something that had crumbled right before my eyes.

But beneath the anger was something even heavier: sadness. A deep, aching sorrow that no amount of resolve could mask.

As I left Yoongi's office, clutching a folder of paperwork and instructions, I felt the tears well up again. This was it. The beginning of the end.

And no matter how determined I felt, the thought of losing everything we had built together still hurt more than I could put into words.

The house was unusually quiet when I walked through the door. Normally, Jungkook would already be at work by this time, his absence leaving behind the faint remnants of his morning routine: a lingering scent of cologne, a half-empty mug of coffee on the counter.

But today, the house wasn't empty.

I found him sitting at the dining table, still in his pajamas, a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. His eyes lifted to meet mine as I stepped into the room, and the weight of his gaze was heavy, suffocating.

"You're home," I said flatly, setting my bag down on the counter.

"I took the day off," he replied, his tone measured. "We need to talk."

I clenched my jaw, exhaustion seeping into my bones. "We've already talked, Jungkook. There's nothing left to say."

"There's plenty left to say," he countered, standing up and stepping toward me. "You went to see Yoongi, didn't you?"

I stiffened but didn't answer. Instead, I reached into my bag, pulling out the papers Yoongi had given me and placing them on the table. "Sign these," I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.

Jungkook's brows furrowed as he glanced down at the documents. His hands trembled as he picked them up, his eyes scanning the words.

"This is a divorce agreement," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," I said simply.

He looked up at me, disbelief and hurt flashing across his face. "You're serious about this? You really want to end it just like that?"

"It's not 'just like that,'" I snapped, my voice rising. "This has been years in the making, Jungkook. I've been trying to hold us together, but you—" I paused, my voice breaking. "You gave up a long time ago."

"That's not true," he said, his tone desperate. "I never gave up on us, Jin. I love you—"

"Then why does it feel like you don't?" I interrupted, anger bubbling to the surface. "Why does it feel like I've been alone in this marriage for years? Why does it feel like you're more alive talking to her than you ever are with me?"

He flinched as though I had struck him. "This isn't about her," he said firmly. "So Hee has nothing to do with this."

"Doesn't she?" I challenged, my voice dripping with bitterness. "Every time I see you with her, I see the man I fell in love with. The man who used to laugh with me, talk with me, look at me like I was his world. And now? Now I'm just... here. A convenience. A roommate."

"That's not true," Jungkook said, his voice shaking. "I've been distracted, yes. I've made mistakes. But I'm still here, Jin. I'm still trying."

"Trying?" I laughed bitterly. "Burning toast and skipping work for one day isn't trying, Jungkook. It's desperation. And it's too late for that."

He slammed the papers down on the table, his face a mix of frustration and pain. "Why are you doing this? Why won't you give me a chance to fix things?"

"Because I'm done, Jungkook!" I shouted, my voice echoing through the room. "I'm done waiting for you to care. I'm done begging for scraps of attention. I'm done pretending this marriage is anything but a hollow shell of what it used to be."

His chest heaved as he stared at me, his fists clenched at his sides. Then, without warning, he grabbed the papers and tore them in half, the sound of ripping paper cutting through the tense silence.

"You don't get to decide this on your own," he said, his voice low and trembling with emotion. "This isn't just your marriage, Jin. It's ours. And I'm not giving up without a fight."

I stared at the torn papers in his hands, my chest tightening with a mix of anger and heartbreak. "This isn't a fight, Jungkook. It's over. You're just too stubborn to see it."

"No," he said, stepping closer, his voice rising. "What's over is this version of us—the one where we ignore our problems and let them fester. But I'm not letting you walk away from me. From us. Not without trying."

"And what do you think this is?" I shot back, tears streaming down my face. "Me going to Yoongi wasn't easy, Jungkook. It was me finally admitting that this—us—can't be saved. You can't just tear up some papers and pretend that fixes everything."

Jungkook's face crumpled, and for the first time, I saw tears welling in his eyes. "Jin, please," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Please don't do this. I know I've been distant, I know I've hurt you, but I'm still here. I still love you. And I'll spend the rest of my life proving it if that's what it takes."

I shook my head, my heart shattering at the sight of him breaking. "I can't, Jungkook. I don't have anything left to give."

He sank to his knees, his hands clutching the torn papers as though they could somehow hold us together. "Don't leave me," he begged, his voice raw. "Please, Jin. Don't leave me."

I turned away, unable to look at him any longer. My tears fell freely as I walked toward the stairs, his broken pleas echoing behind me.

As I closed the door to my writing room, I leaned against it, my chest heaving with sobs.

I wanted to believe his words, to believe that love was enough to mend what had been broken. But in that moment, all I felt was the crushing weight of years of disappointment, heartbreak, and longing for something that no longer existed.

And I wasn't sure if love could ever be enough.

The faint knock on the door startled me out of my thoughts. I had been sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall, tears silently streaking down my face. The weight of everything—fifteen years of love, pain, and doubt—pressed against my chest, suffocating me.

"Jin," Jungkook's voice came softly through the door. "I made lunch."

I didn't answer. My throat felt raw from crying, and the thought of food made my stomach churn.

"I brought it up for you," he added, his voice trembling slightly. "Can I come in?"

Still, I said nothing.

The door creaked open, and I heard his footsteps approach hesitantly. "Jin," he said again, his tone heavy with emotion. "You need to eat."

I glanced up to see him standing a few feet away, holding a tray with a neatly plated meal—steamed rice, stir-fried vegetables, and grilled fish. He had even poured a glass of water, placing it carefully on the tray as if it were a peace offering.

"Please," he said, setting the tray on the small table by the window. "Just a few bites. That's all I'm asking."

I shook my head, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not hungry."

Jungkook stared at me for a long moment, his shoulders slumping. Then, to my shock, he sank to his knees right there on the floor, his hands covering his face.

"Jin, please," he choked out, his voice cracking. "Please, let's just talk. Don't shut me out like this. Don't shut us out."

His shoulders shook as he sobbed, his words spilling out in a torrent of desperation. "I know I've been a terrible husband. I know I've taken you for granted, and I've been distant, but please don't give up on me. Don't give up on us. This is just a phase. A rough patch. Every marriage goes through this, right? We can fix this. I swear I'll change. I'll try harder. I'll do whatever it takes. Just... please don't leave me."

I turned away, my own tears falling silently. His words cut through me like a knife, and I pressed my hand to my mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to escape.

Inside, I was breaking. I loved him. God, I loved him so much it hurt. I wanted to believe him, to believe that we could fix what was broken, that this was just a phase like he said. But my insecurities screamed louder than his promises.

What if I wasn't enough anymore? What if I was never enough?

I wrapped my arms around myself, trembling as his sobs filled the room. "Jungkook," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I don't know if I can do this."

"You can," he said, his voice raw and desperate. "We can. Together. Please, Jin. Don't push me away."

"I'm scared," I admitted, my tears falling harder now. "I'm scared that we're too far gone. That no matter what we do, we can't go back to what we were."

He crawled closer, his hands reaching for mine. "Then we don't go back," he said, his voice soft but determined. "We start over. We build something new. I don't care what it takes, Jin. I just want you. I need you. You're my everything."

I closed my eyes, his words piercing through the thick fog of doubt in my mind. I wanted to believe him, to take his hand and try again. But the pain, the insecurity, the years of feeling unseen and unloved—they weren't so easy to erase.

"I don't know if I'm strong enough," I whispered, pulling my hands away.

Jungkook's sobs quieted, and he leaned his forehead against the edge of the bed, his voice trembling as he said, "Then I'll be strong enough for both of us. Just... please don't give up on me, Jin. Don't give up on us."

His words broke me completely, and I buried my face in my hands, crying silently. I wanted to reach for him, to hold him, to tell him I still loved him. But the fear of being hurt again held me back, like a wall I couldn't climb.

The room was filled with the sound of our broken sobs, two people trapped in the wreckage of something that had once been so beautiful.

And as much as I wanted to believe in his promises, in the love that still lingered between us, I couldn't stop the voice
in my head that whispered, What if it's already too late?

The house was quiet again, the kind of silence that made my thoughts louder. Jungkook had gone back to work after his emotional plea days ago, leaving me alone with the vast emptiness of the place. I tried to write, but the words wouldn't come. My mind kept circling back to the apartment listings I had bookmarked on my laptop.

I didn't want to be in this house anymore. It felt suffocating, like a cage that kept reminding me of everything I had lost—or was about to lose.

I was in the middle of scrolling through listings when the doorbell rang.

Frowning, I closed my laptop and headed to the door. When I opened it, there she was: Han So Hee, holding a small container and wearing her usual bright smile.

"Hi, Seokjin," she said cheerfully. "I wanted to share a new recipe I tried—matcha cookies. Thought you might like them."

For a moment, I just stared at her, unsure of what to do. Then, on impulse, I stepped aside. "Why don't you come in?"

Her smile faltered slightly, as though she hadn't expected the invitation. "Oh, are you sure? I don't want to intrude."

"It's fine," I said, my tone neutral. "Come in."

She hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, her eyes scanning the house as though it held answers to unspoken questions. I led her to the living room and gestured for her to sit.

"Tea?" I offered, already heading to the kitchen.

"Sure," she said, her voice soft.

A few minutes later, I returned with two cups of tea and sat across from her. For a moment, we sipped in silence, the tension in the air palpable. Then I set my cup down and leaned back, meeting her gaze.

"So," I began, my voice steady but sharp. "How long were you going to pretend nothing's happened?"

Her eyes widened, and she set her cup down carefully. "I'm sorry?"

"I know," I said, crossing my arms. "About you and Jungkook. Your past. The now. Everything."

Color drained from her face, and she shook her head quickly. "Seokjin, no. There's nothing between us now. I swear—"

"This isn't just about now," I interrupted, my voice colder than I intended. "This is about everything. About the way he lights up around you. The way he talks to you like he hasn't talked to me in years. It's about what I see when you're together and what I feel every single day in this house."

So Hee's eyes filled with desperation as she leaned forward, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "Seokjin, please believe me. I would never... I respect you. I respect your marriage. Jungkook and I—whatever we had, it ended a long time ago. I have no feelings for him, and he has no feelings for me."

I stared at her, my jaw clenched. Part of me wanted to believe her. But this wasn't just about her. It wasn't even just about Jungkook. It was about us.

"I believe you," I said bitterly, my voice softer now. "I don't think you're trying to take him away from me. But that doesn't change the fact that you made me see something I've been ignoring for years."

She looked confused, her brows furrowing. "What do you mean?"

I let out a shaky breath, running a hand through my hair. "Thanks to you, I realized how broken my marriage is. How distant we've become. How I've been clinging to something that doesn't exist anymore. I should've seen it years ago, but I didn't. And now... now I don't know if there's anything left to save."

Tears welled in her eyes as she shook her head. "Seokjin, no. You can save it. You and Jungkook—you've built so much together. Don't let this... this misunderstanding ruin it."

I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. "This isn't a misunderstanding, So Hee. This is years of neglect, years of silence, years of pretending everything is fine when it isn't. You didn't cause this. You just... made it impossible for me to ignore."

She reached for my hand, her grip firm and warm. "Please don't give up on him," she pleaded. "He loves you. I see it in the way he talks about you, the way he looks at you. Don't throw it all away because of your doubts."

I pulled my hand back, my heart aching with the weight of her words. "It's not just my doubts, So Hee. It's the reality of our marriage. And I can't keep pretending that love is enough to fix what's broken."

Her lips trembled, and she wiped at her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I never wanted to cause this."

I shook my head, forcing a small, bitter smile. "It's not your fault. If anything, you did me a favor. You made me realize what I should've done years ago."

Her face crumpled, and she stood abruptly, clutching the container of cookies. "I should go," she said, her voice shaky.

I nodded, not stopping her as she headed to the door. "Goodbye, So Hee."

She paused in the doorway, looking back at me with red-rimmed eyes. "I hope you find what you're looking for, Seokjin. I really do."

I didn't respond as she left, the door clicking shut behind her. The silence of the house returned, heavier than ever.

I sat there for a long time, staring at the empty space she had left behind, wondering if I had just sealed the fate of my marriage—or if it had been sealed long before she ever entered our lives.

The sound of the front door closing echoed through the house. I looked up from the stack of papers on the coffee table, my heart sinking when I saw Jungkook standing in the entryway. His gaze darted between me and Yoongi, his face tightening when he spotted the documents in front of us.

"What's going on?" Jungkook asked, his voice low and tense.

Yoongi cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses as he stood. "Jungkook," he greeted, his tone cautious. "We're discussing the terms of the divorce process."

"Divorce process?" Jungkook's voice rose, his disbelief sharp and cutting. "You're still doing this? After everything I said, after everything I promised?"

I straightened, folding my arms across my chest. "Yes, Jungkook. We're doing this. You might not agree, but this is my decision."

His eyes locked onto mine, hurt and anger swirling in them. "Your decision? This isn't just about you, Seokjin. This is our marriage."

"And I've spent years being the only one fighting for it!" I shot back, my voice trembling with emotion. "You can't just suddenly decide to care now, Jungkook. It's too late."

"It's not too late," he said, stepping closer, his voice desperate. "Jin, I love you. I've always loved you. Why can't you see that?"

Yoongi cleared his throat again, stepping in between us. "Jungkook, I can see how much you care about Seokjin, but this isn't something I can mediate. I'm here as his lawyer, not his counselor."

Jungkook turned to Yoongi, his expression filled with frustration. "You're helping him tear us apart, Yoongi. You know how much I love him. How can you support this?"

Yoongi sighed, his tone calm but firm. "Because Seokjin is my client, and it's my job to support his decisions. But, Jungkook, let me say this—I can see you still love him. It's written all over your face. And maybe, just maybe, that's something worth fighting for."

Jungkook's shoulders sagged, and for a moment, he looked utterly lost. Then he straightened, his jaw tightening as he turned back to me.

"You're making a mistake, Jin," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Yoongi glanced between us, clearly uncomfortable with the rising tension. "I think I'll leave you two to talk this out," he said, gathering his things.

As Yoongi left, the silence between us grew heavier. Jungkook stood there, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his gaze boring into mine.

"You really want to do this?" he asked, his voice breaking. "You really want to throw away everything we've built together?"

"It's already gone, Jungkook," I whispered, my tears threatening to spill. "We've been living in the ruins of our marriage for years. You just didn't see it."

His chest heaved as he took a shaky breath. Then, without warning, he crossed the room and pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly. His grip was desperate, his face buried in my shoulder as he trembled against me.

"Please, Jin," he whispered, his voice muffled and raw. "Don't do this. Don't leave me. I'll do anything. Just tell me what to do."

I stood there, frozen in his embrace. This was what I had wanted for so long—for him to hold me, to fight for me, to show me that I still mattered to him. But now that it was happening, it felt... wrong.

His hug was stiff, awkward, like we were strangers trying to mimic something we had once known by heart. It was a painful reminder of how far we had drifted, how much time and distance had eroded the bond we once shared.

I pulled away gently, my heart aching at the sight of him. His eyes were red, his cheeks wet with tears, and his hands hovered uncertainly, as though afraid to let me go completely.

"This is exactly why I can't do this anymore," I said quietly, my voice trembling. "Even this... even us holding each other feels distant now. It's like we've forgotten how to love each other."

"No," Jungkook said, his voice cracking. "I haven't forgotten. I never forgot, Jin. I've just... I've been stupid. I've taken you for granted. But I swear I can change. I'll do whatever it takes to make this work."

I shook my head, stepping back further. "It shouldn't take the threat of divorce for you to try, Jungkook. It shouldn't take me reaching my breaking point for you to realize how much I've been hurting."

His face crumpled, and he dropped to his knees, his head bowed as he sobbed. "Don't leave me," he whispered. "Please, Jin. I don't know how to live without you."

Tears streamed down my face as I turned away, unable to bear the sight of him breaking. I loved him—I always had—but the wounds of our marriage ran too deep, and I wasn't sure if love alone could heal them.

As I walked upstairs to my room, his broken sobs echoed through the house, each one cutting deeper into my heart. But I didn't turn back. I couldn't.

Because sometimes, letting go was the only way to save yourself, even if it meant breaking both your hearts in the process.

The phone call came late in the afternoon, interrupting the tense quiet that had settled over the house. I was in the living room, aimlessly scrolling through my phone, when Jungkook's mom's name lit up the screen. My stomach twisted as I hesitated before answering.

"Hello?" I said cautiously, pressing the phone to my ear.

"Seokjin, darling!" her warm voice greeted me, instantly filling me with a sense of guilt and unease. "How are you? It's been too long since we've seen you and Jungkook."

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my tone steady. "I'm doing well, Mom. How about you?"

"Oh, we're fine, just busy as usual. Listen, I'm calling because we're planning a big family dinner for Jungkook's dad's birthday this weekend. Everyone's coming—his siblings, the in-laws, even the kids. We want you and Jungkook to stay over for the weekend, like old times."

Her words hung in the air like a weight pressing down on my chest. My first instinct was to refuse, to find some excuse to avoid the inevitable discomfort of pretending everything was fine in front of his family. But then I realized how much worse it would look if we didn't go—how it would raise questions we weren't ready to answer.

"That sounds... lovely," I said, my voice strained. "I'll talk to Jungkook about it."

"Oh, I've already spoken to him," she said cheerfully. "He said he'd come, and I told him to bring you along, of course. You two are inseparable!"

The irony of her words made my stomach twist. "Of course," I murmured.

"Great! We'll see you both this weekend, then. I'm so excited—it'll be wonderful to have everyone together again!"

After we said our goodbyes, I set the phone down, staring at it as though it might shatter under the weight of the truth it didn't know.

The weekend came faster than I anticipated, and before I knew it, we were on the road to Jungkook's parents' house. The air in the car was thick with tension, neither of us saying much.

I stole a glance at Jungkook, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, his jaw clenched. He hadn't brought up the divorce again, but the unspoken weight of it loomed between us like a shadow.

"You don't have to force yourself to do this," he said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

"I'm not forcing myself," I replied, though the lie tasted bitter. "Your parents invited me. It's only polite to go."

He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Just... let's try to make it through the weekend without any more fights."

"Fine," I said flatly, turning to look out the window.

Jungkook's parents' house was just as warm and welcoming as I remembered, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the air as we stepped inside. His mom greeted us with open arms, pulling me into a tight hug before turning to Jungkook.

"There's my favorite couple!" she exclaimed, beaming at us.

I forced a smile, feeling Jungkook's hand hover awkwardly near the small of my back, like he was unsure whether to touch me. "It's good to see you, Mom," I said, my voice overly bright.

His dad was in the kitchen, laughing with Jungkook's siblings and their spouses. The house was bustling with activity, children running around and the sound of plates clinking as the table was set for dinner.

For a moment, it felt like old times—like the weight of our crumbling marriage didn't exist. But then Jungkook's hand brushed against mine, and the awkwardness between us shattered the illusion.

As we all gathered around the table, his mom made a point of seating me next to Jungkook. The conversations flowed easily around us, laughter and stories filling the air, but I couldn't focus.

I felt Jungkook's gaze on me more than once, but I avoided looking at him, afraid of what I might see—or what he might see in me.

At one point, his sister-in-law leaned over, smiling warmly. "You and Jungkook seem so busy these days. We hardly see you anymore."

"Yes," his mom chimed in. "You two should visit more often. It's always such a joy to have you here."

I smiled tightly, my chest tightening. "We'll try," I said, the lie slipping out easily.

Jungkook's hand brushed against mine under the table, and for a moment, I froze. It was a small gesture, almost imperceptible, but it made my heart ache.

When the dinner ended and everyone scattered to different parts of the house, I found a quiet corner to collect myself. But Jungkook followed me, his expression tense.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft.

"I'm fine," I said, my voice clipped.

"Jin, please," he said, stepping closer. "I know this is hard for you, but thank you for coming. It means a lot to them... and to me."

I looked at him, my heart aching at the sincerity in his eyes. For a moment, I wanted to believe that we could make it work—that the warmth of his family, the memories of better times, could somehow bridge the gap between us.

But then I remembered the papers Yoongi had drawn up, the weeks of silence, the years of distance. And I knew that some things couldn't be fixed.

"Let's just get through the weekend," I said quietly, turning away.

And as I walked back toward the laughter and warmth of his family, I couldn't help but wonder if pretending would ever feel as real as it used to.

Jungkook's laughter mixed with the chatter of his siblings in the living room, a sound that would have once brought a smile to my face. Now, it felt like background noise, distant and hollow. I stayed in the kitchen with his mom, helping her clean up after dinner, trying to ignore the tension brewing inside me.

"You know," I overheard his older brother say, "maybe what you and Seokjin need is a little excitement in your lives."

"What do you mean?" Jungkook asked, his tone curious.

"Well, you've been married for fifteen years, right? Maybe it's time to think about adopting a child," his sister-in-law chimed in. "It would bring you two closer. Give you something to bond over."

"You know Seokjin's been wanting that for years," his brother added. "It's about time you gave him what he's been asking for."

Their words hit me like a punch to the chest, even from the other room. I froze, my hands gripping the dishcloth tightly as I listened.

"I hadn't really thought about it," Jungkook admitted after a pause. "But... maybe you're right. Maybe that's exactly what we need."

Later that evening, as we prepared for bed in the guest room his parents had set up for us, Jungkook broke the silence.

"Jin," he said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I've been thinking."

I glanced at him warily, already sensing where this was going. "About what?"

He hesitated, his hands fidgeting in his lap. "About us. About... adopting a child."

The words hung in the air, heavy and unexpected. For a moment, I couldn't breathe. This was what I had wanted for so long—years of asking, dreaming, hoping—but now, it felt like a cruel twist of fate.

"A child?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," he said, his tone more confident now. "I know I've been hesitant in the past, but I think it might be what we need. A fresh start. Something to bring us closer."

I stared at him, my emotions swirling. For a brief second, his words cracked through the armor I had built around myself, shaking me to my core. But then reality set in, and the bitterness returned.

"No," I said sharply, shaking my head.

He blinked, clearly startled by my reaction. "No? But you've always wanted this, Jin."

"I did," I said, my voice trembling. "But not like this. Not now. This isn't going to fix anything, Jungkook. It's too late for that."

"It's not too late," he insisted, standing up and stepping closer. "Jin, we can still save this. We can save us. Just give me a chance—give us a chance."

I turned away, my chest tightening as tears threatened to spill. "You're just grasping at straws, Jungkook. This isn't about wanting a child. This is about trying to patch up something that's already broken."

His shoulders slumped, and he looked at me with pleading eyes. "Why won't you even try?"

"Because I've tried for years," I said, my voice breaking. "And I'm done."

That night, we had no choice but to share the same bed, the awkwardness between us thicker than ever. I lay on my side, facing away from him, my heart aching with every beat.

I heard the mattress shift as he moved closer, his arms tentatively wrapping around me. His touch was hesitant, as though he were afraid I might push him away.

"Jin," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Please don't leave me."

I stayed silent, my tears soaking into the pillow as his arms tightened around me.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his lips brushing against my shoulder. "I'm so sorry for everything. For being distant, for taking you for granted, for not listening. I'll do better. I'll be better. Just... don't give up on me."

His voice cracked, and I felt his tears wetting the back of my neck. He kissed my shoulder, my cheek, my temple, his lips lingering as though trying to convey everything he couldn't put into words.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "I love you so much, Jin. Please, please don't leave me."

I clenched my fists under the blanket, my body trembling with the effort to stay silent. I wanted to turn around, to hold him, to tell him that I still loved him too. But my insecurities, my doubts, the years of pain—they were too overwhelming.

So I stayed silent, letting his words and his tears wash over me like waves against a broken shore.

And as I cried silently into the darkness, I wondered if love alone would ever be enough to bridge the chasm that had grown between us—or if it was already too late.