59. EOMMA

                                    

                                          
Jungkook staggered to the kitchen, his vision blurred by unshed tears. His hands trembled as he yanked open the fridge, the cold air hitting his face like a slap, but it did nothing to cool the raging storm inside him. 
He grabbed a bottle with a grip so tight his knuckles turned white, as if squeezing it could somehow lessen the throbbing ache in his chest. He stumbled toward his comfort zone-Taehyung's old room.
Each step felt heavier than the last, his legs dragging as if he were wading through quicksand. 
Aera's words echoed in his mind, harsh and unforgiving, cutting deeper than any blade ever could.
His mind drifted back to the days when drugs were his escape. He could almost feel the rush of heroin, the sharp relief of a needle prick, the instant numbing of his thoughts.
Jungkook's breathing grew erratic, his chest heaving with the weight of his grief. He fumbled for his phone, opening a hidden folder he hadn't touched in years. 
Photos of syringes, old contacts, dealers' numbers. His thumb hovered over the call button. He knew it was a slippery slope, but the pain was so intense it felt like he had no choice.
Just then, Taejun's laughter echoed faintly in his memory-his sweet, innocent giggles from earlier that day when he was playing with his toys, oblivious to his father's inner turmoil. 
The sound hit him like a punch to the gut, ripping through his thoughts like a flash of lightning. He dropped the phone, it clattered onto the floor, the screen cracking.
His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms until they drew blood, the sharp pain grounding him momentarily. He couldn't afford to fall apart. Taejun needed him.
The Next Morning
At the dining table, Aera sat alone. Taejun was resting at home due to his injury, and Jungkook was still upstairs, knocked out from his alcohol binge. 
The sudden ring of the doorbell interrupted the morning silence. Xena, the housemaid, opened the door to find Hana and Minjun standing there.
Aera's face lit up at the sight of them. "Hana! Minjun! What a pleasant thing you came," she exclaimed, embracing her friend Hana warmly.
Hana, in her early 40s, was a successful businesswoman just like Aera and had come from Seoul for a visit. 
Minjun, a pretty boy in his mid-20s, stood beside her. He was dressed in a frilled baby pink shirt and white pants, his innocent face glowing with a warm smile. As a therapist, he had a naturally calming presence.
Minjun greeted, "Noona, it's been a while. How are you?"
Aera smiled, "I'm good, Minjun. It's always nice to see you. Come, join me at the table."
As they settled at the dining table, Hana smirked, "I must say, Aera, you truly can do anything to keep your words."
Aera, full of pride, responded, "It's Jeon Aera you're talking about."
Minjun, looking around, noticed a pair of blue eyes peeking at him from behind the wall. 
He turned around with a charming smile he winked at the little prince. Taejun, shy and giggling, ran away, his laughter echoing through the house.
Hana raised an eyebrow, "Who was that?"
Minjun, with his gentle voice, asked, "Noona, who was that adorable little boy from his face he looks like--"
Aera's expression softened. "Yes, Minjun, that's Taejun. He's Jungkook's son."
Minjun's eyes lit up. "Ah, I see. Let me go meet him," he said, getting up to find the little one.