jeon jungkook. 002

The dinner table stretched across the candlelit hall, both families gathered. Conversations overlapped—but none reached you.

You sat quietly, pastel dress soft around you, eyes lowered as they talked about you.

“Too delicate,” your aunt said.

“Perfect for a mafia heir,” your cousin laughed.

“Tell them about your driving test,” your sister added.

Laughter followed.

You stayed silent.

“She has nothing to say,” your mother continued. “He’s 27. She’s 19.”

Then—

The doors opened.

Silence.

Jungkook stepped in, calm, sharp-eyed.

He wasn’t expected—but he came.

His gaze found you instantly.

“I’m late,” he said. “I brought dessert.”

He walked straight to you.

“You okay?” he murmured.

You nodded.

“Liar,” he said softly.

A small smile appeared.

Then he turned to the table.

“I see you started without me,” he said coolly. “Did you mention your failed exams?” he asked your brother. “Or your online obsessions?” to your sister.

Silence.

His hand rested gently on your head. “Find better hobbies.”

He wrapped a soft pink shawl around your shoulders.

“You looked cold,” he murmured.

Your lips trembled.

Quietly, his hand brushed over your small bump—hidden from most.

“We can leave,” he said.

You shook your head.

“I’m okay now.”

He smiled.

Then your brother scoffed, “He’ll leave you—”

The chair scraped.

Jungkook stood, the room turning cold.