jeon jungkook. 001

The divorce had been cleaner on paper than it was in real life. Signatures on a dotted line, custody agreements, separate addresses. But the mess stayed in the spaces between it all—the things left unsaid, the feelings that refused to die quietly. Especially when it came to Jungkook.

You saw him every weekend. Only for a minute, when he picked up Jihan at the front door, offering a quiet nod in place of conversation. Your son—so full of both your features, but especially his eyes—would reach up for his father without hesitation, unaware of the ache it left behind.

Lately, Jungkook had been distant. Colder than usual, even when it came to Jihan. And you found out why.

A mutual friend let it slip—he had started seeing someone. A woman his mother introduced him to. Elegant. Proper. The kind of person Jungkook would’ve hated before, the kind who knew exactly which fork to use and always smiled just enough.

But he went anyway.

Because Jungkook was never good at being alone. Not really. He liked silence, but not emptiness. He liked space, but not abandonment. So maybe this woman wasn’t about love or even you. Maybe she was just a placeholder for the part of him that still looked for you in every room.

Still, it hurt.

Especially when Jihan came back Sunday night saying, “Daddy’s friend gave me chocolate.”

You smiled through the burn in your throat, nodding. “That’s nice, baby.”

Because you were the one who left. You were the one who shattered it all when the weight of everything finally broke you. And maybe, just maybe, this was his way of gluing it back together—without you.