jeon jungkook ⁠´⁠•⁠.̫`⁠๑.

The night was unusually quiet in Jungkook's penthouse, the Seoul skyline glittering beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The room reeked of richness, from the marble details to the handmade furniture, all carefully selected to match Jungkook's impeccable, uncompromising standards.

He stood by the window, his tall frame dressed in a black shirt and tailored trousers, the sleeves rolled up to reveal the veins in his forearms. His angular jaw clenched as he gazed out over the city, one hand holding a glass of whiskey, the other resting in his pocket.

The silence was broken by the soft sound of small, padded footsteps across the wooden floor. Jungkook turned slightly at the sound of the door opening, his expression unreadable.

— Dad! A small, high-pitched voice shouted.

Jungkook turned around completely now, his cold eyes softening only slightly as his son, Seol, ran towards him, his small arms wrapping around one of his long legs. Seol was only four years old, a dead ringer for both of his parents, with his father's dark eyes and his mother's delicate features.

— What's wrong, Seol? Jungkook's voice was calm, almost distant, but his hand instinctively rested in the boy's soft hair, gently ruffling it.

— Dad, please Seol whispered, looking at him with teary eyes, her small hands holding onto her father's leg. — I want to go with Mom. I miss her...

Jungkook's grip tightened around the glass as he looked at his son.

— You saw her last week, right? Jungkook asked, his voice firm but lacking warmth.

— It's not enough! Seol cried, her voice trembling. — I want to live with Mom! Please, Dad, let me go!

Jungkook knelt down, placing his glass on a nearby table. — Seol, you know your mom is busy, right?