《 A short summary 》
🌸 "In the Arms of Love" — Summary: 🌸
Kim Taehyung, a quiet stylist from behind the curtains of the K-pop world, unexpectedly falls for top idol Jeon Jungkook. Their love blooms amidst chaos, fame, and betrayal—until Jungkook disappears under mysterious circumstances, replaced by a lookalike named Justin under the manipulation of Jungkook’s own father.
Refusing to believe Jungkook is gone, Taehyung plays a dangerous game—pretending to love Justin to uncover the truth. As secrets unravel, alliances shift, and love is tested, Taehyung and Jungkook reunite, expose the mastermind, and finally escape to a quiet life in Busan.
There, they rebuild—hand in hand, heart to heart—until they adopt a daughter named Taeri, the little girl who made their broken family whole.
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1. [The Boy from Behind the Curtains]
The stage lights were always too bright, too loud.
Taehyung hated them—not because they blinded, but because they exposed. And Kim Taehyung had lived his life behind the curtains, in shadows that smelled of hairspray and fabric glue.
He wasn’t born for stardom. He was born on it.
Literally.
His mother, a background dancer in a pop music video, had gone into labor on set. A confetti cannon had exploded the very moment his first cry pierced the air. Some called it destiny. Taehyung always called it coincidence.
He lost her to cancer by the time he was five.
Since then, his world had been his aunt Jiwoo—the senior makeup artist at K-Play Studios—and Uncle Minjae, the quiet costume designer who stitched dreams into silks.
They never pushed him to shine. Only to smile.
By nineteen, Taehyung found his peace in little things:
—Mixing the perfect foundation shade.
—Fixing a wig so it looked like poetry.
—Quiet nights with strawberry milk and the sound of soft ballads sung off-key in bathroom echoes.
He loved beautiful things, but never believed he could be one.
It was on a humid Thursday when the sky threatened rain and tempers were high on set, that the storm entered.
The storm had a name: Jeon Jungkook.
K-pop’s golden boy.
Galaxy Entertainment’s prized crown.
A face that sold a million albums and broke a million hearts.
And now, he was late. Again.
Taehyung stood by the lighting rig, clipboard pressed to his chest, watching the chaos unravel like thread from a cheap costume.
“He’s two hours late,” muttered the assistant director. “Again.”
“We can’t say anything,” someone else whispered. “Not to him.”
And then, with a blast of sound and ego, Jeon Jungkook walked in.
He didn’t enter. He arrived.
Leather jacket. Black boots. Sunglasses indoors.
Like the set owed him silence.
“Get my water,” he snapped. “Not that brand—the other one. The Fiji one.”
Taehyung frowned.
He turned back to the hair kit, rolling his eyes when Jungkook’s voice rang again, louder this time.
“Hey! You. Blue shirt.”
Taehyung looked up, confused. “Me?”
“Yes, you. What’s your name?”
“…Taehyung.”
Jungkook sauntered over, taking off his glasses.
His eyes were sharp. Beautiful. Dangerous.
“Taehyung,” he repeated, like tasting something bitter. “Fix this mess,” he said, motioning to his perfectly styled hair. “I don’t like it.”
Taehyung blinked. “It was approved by your stylist.”
Jungkook smirked. “And now it’s being changed by me.”
Silence.
The entire crew stilled. No one ever talked back to Jungkook.
But Taehyung just sighed. “Then sit.”
As Taehyung gently parted Jungkook’s hair, brushing it with precise fingers, there was tension.
Not the kind that shouted.
_The kind that whispered: This isn’t the end. This is the beginning._
And then Jungkook said, barely audible, “You don’t like me.”
Taehyung paused.
“I don’t know you,” he replied. “But I hate arrogance. So if that’s your personality, then yes… I probably won’t.”
Jungkook turned his head slightly, just enough for their eyes to meet.
Dark brown against storm black.
And for a fraction of a second, the golden boy looked… intrigued.
“Then let’s get to know each other,” he said, a hint of something wild in his voice.
Taehyung rolled his eyes. “No thanks. I like my life quiet.”
“Boring, you mean.”
“Peaceful.”
Jungkook grinned, amused. “You’ll remember me.”
Taehyung exhaled. “I already wish I could forget you.”
He didn’t know then,
That this boy—the storm named Jeon Jungkook—
Would one day become the greatest chaos of his life…
And the deepest love of his soul.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
2. [Collision Course]
There are moments in life that don’t come with thunder or sirens.
They sneak up on you like a heartbeat, quiet… inevitable.
For Taehyung, that moment came on a dusky evening with too many spilled coffee cups and not enough apologies.
It was supposed to be an ordinary day.
But Jeon Jungkook didn’t do ordinary.
The rain hadn’t stopped all day. The streets outside Galaxy Studios shimmered with puddles and reflected neon signs. Taehyung had stayed late, fixing a wardrobe malfunction for a rookie idol who’d panicked over a missing sequin.
By the time he left, it was past 11. The sidewalks were nearly empty.
And then—screech.
A black Maserati sliced through the mist, tires screaming as it clipped the edge of the curb.
A soft thud.
A crash.
A boy—maybe eighteen, maybe younger—sprawled on the pavement, his delivery bag torn open, food scattered like broken dreams.
Taehyung froze.
His feet moved before his brain could.
“Hey! Are you okay?!”
The boy groaned, clutching his leg.
The car didn’t stop.
It sped away, disappearing into the smog like a shadow with no conscience.
Taehyung stood in the hospital corridor, numb fingers curled around his phone.
The police had arrived. The boy—named Daesung—had a fractured ankle and a bruised hip. His scooter was totaled. His job was gone.
Taehyung had seen the plate. Memorized the digits.
He finally looked down at the driver’s name written in the police report: JEON JUNGKOOK.
His world shifted.
Cameras flashed. The media swarmed like hornets. Galaxy Entertainment had called for a statement—of apology, of responsibility.
But what they got was a performance.
Jungkook walked on stage in a designer suit and a soft smile.
“I’d like to clarify something,” he said. “The rumors about me being involved in a hit-and-run… are baseless.”
Taehyung stood at the edge of the crowd, disbelief curling in his gut.
He stepped forward, voice rising like fire through a cold room.
“They’re not baseless.”
Everyone turned.
Gasps.
It was him—the quiet stylist. The background boy.
“I was there,” Taehyung said, louder now. “I saw your car. I saw the boy. I saw you drive away.”
Jungkook’s eyes locked with his.
Cold.
“Do you have proof?” he asked calmly.
“No.” Taehyung’s voice trembled. “Just the truth.”
“Then it’s your word against mine.”
He leaned into the mic.
“And why would anyone believe someone like you… over someone like me?”
Taehyung sat on the rooftop of his apartment, soaked from head to toe, fists clenched.
His phone buzzed.
A message.
Unknown Number:
_“You have guts, I’ll give you that.”_
_“But you also just made a mistake.”_
_“Get ready to be forgotten, Kim Taehyung.”_
He stared at the screen.
Anger burned behind his ribs. But beneath it—hurt. Not because the industry would turn on him. But because it already had.
The next morning, he was suspended from work.
No calls.
No support.
Song Kang—his boyfriend of two years—met him at a café that evening. He wore a polite smile and empty eyes.
“You need to stop,” Song Kang said softly. “You’re going against someone… untouchable.”
Taehyung looked at him. “So I’m supposed to let him get away with it?”
“I’m saying…” Kang sighed. “I can’t be involved in this. My agency said it’s bad press. I—” he swallowed, “—we should take a break.”
Taehyung blinked.
“Oh.”
He didn’t cry.
Not then.
He just nodded. “Thanks for letting me know.”
As Taehyung walked away, head bowed under the weight of everything collapsing, he didn’t notice the car parked across the street.
Inside it sat Jungkook.
Watching.
A strange knot twisted in his chest.
Taehyung should’ve looked weak.
But he didn’t.
He looked like someone who had nothing left to lose.
And Jeon Jungkook… had never found that so dangerously beautiful.
_They had collided._
Not on a stage. Not in a song.
But in a war neither had asked for.
And only one of them would walk away unchanged.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
3. [Love Turned Hostile]
If the collision had caused a stir… the aftermath was a storm.
In less than a week, Kim Taehyung's life unraveled like a poorly stitched costume seam.
Phone calls went unanswered. His apartment landlord slid warning notices under the door. His aunt Jiwoo tried to console him, but Taehyung could see it in her eyes—the worry, the helplessness, the fear that she couldn’t protect him anymore.
The industry had turned its back.
And at the center of it all… was Jeon Jungkook.
Inside a conference room lined with glass, Jungkook sat with his management team, legs propped up, sipping cold brew as if the world outside wasn't bleeding from the fire he'd started.
“Damage control complete,” one of the executives said, clicking through slides. “We’ve labeled Taehyung as an obsessed stylist who fabricated the accusation after being fired.”
Jungkook said nothing.
He stared out the window.
A woman beside him spoke, careful and clipped.
“Are you satisfied now, Jungkook-ssi?”
He smirked. “Almost.”
Taehyung’s uncle was admitted again. His blood pressure had spiked dangerously.
“They’re asking for a deposit,” Jiwoo whispered. “It’s… it’s more than we have, Tae.”
Taehyung looked down at the bill. His hands trembled. His savings were gone. His job was gone.
And then, as if summoned by his desperation, the devil walked in.
Jungkook stood in the corridor, wearing a sleek coat, his presence as suffocating as it was beautiful.
“I heard about your uncle,” he said calmly. “Tragic.”
Taehyung’s jaw clenched. “Get out.”
Jungkook held up a folded document.
“I’ll pay for everything.”
“What’s the catch?” Taehyung asked, eyes narrowing.
Jungkook’s voice was smooth.
“Marry me.”
Silence.
The air felt too heavy.
Taehyung laughed. A bitter, disbelieving sound.
“Is this another game to you?”
“No,” Jungkook said. “It’s war.”
He took a step forward, lowering his voice.
“You challenged me. Embarrassed me. I don’t forgive that.”
“So this is your revenge?” Taehyung whispered.
Jungkook didn’t blink. “One year. Be my legal husband. Do as I say. In public, we’ll be perfect. In private… you’ll remember why it’s better not to fight me.”
Taehyung stared at him.
“You’re disgusting.”
Jungkook didn’t deny it.
“Think of it as a deal. Your family gets a second chance. You get survival. And I… get my victory.”
Taehyung turned away.
Then back again—eyes sharp like broken glass.
“You think you’ve won already?”
“I always win,” Jungkook said with a half-smile.
It wasn’t a wedding. It was a performance.
The venue was a luxury hotel in Gangnam. Journalists flooded the halls. The internet exploded.
_“Idol Jungkook Ties Knot with Former Accuser!”_
_“Is It Love or Strategy?”_
_“Taehyung: The Cinderella of Scandal.”_
Taehyung wore white silk.
Jungkook wore power.
They stood side by side as cameras clicked. His hand slipped around Taehyung’s waist like ownership.
"Smile," he whispered against Taehyung’s ear. "Or I’ll give them something worse to talk about."
Taehyung turned to face the flash.
He smiled.
Not because he meant it.
But because it hurt Jungkook more when he didn’t cry.
The penthouse was quiet. Too quiet.
Taehyung stepped in, dropped the heavy wedding garland on the floor, and sat on the edge of the bed.
Jungkook loosened his tie slowly, watching him.
“You didn’t run,” Jungkook said.
“I never run,” Taehyung replied.
Jungkook walked closer.
“You could’ve said no. Let your uncle suffer. Let your name rot.”
“I’d rather be humiliated,” Taehyung said quietly, “than helpless.”
Jungkook stood still. For a moment, he looked… not cruel. Just lost.
But then the mask returned.
“Well then, husband,” he said with mocking sweetness, “Welcome to hell.”
Taehyung looked up at him with a calm fire.
“No,” he whispered. “You dragged me in… but hell is where you’ll burn.”
And so, the world saw the fairy tale.
The headlines screamed of love.
The fans cried tears of joy.
But behind closed doors…
It was war.
A marriage forged from ash and acid.
A love turned hostile.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
4. [Cracks in the Armor]
There was a rhythm to their new life.
Wake up. Fake a kiss. Step into matching designer outfits. Smile for the cameras. Return home. Slam doors. Sleep back to back.
Repeat.
Jeon Jungkook, the nation’s sweetheart, was now a husband.
Kim Taehyung, the nation’s scandal, was now his.
The media called it fate.
The fans called it a miracle.
But behind closed doors, it was a cold war in silk.
Taehyung stood in the kitchen, barefoot, pouring water into a glass.
Jungkook entered, freshly showered, towel around his neck, scrolling through his phone like a king ignoring his court.
Taehyung didn’t look up.
Jungkook glanced at him. “You're still here.”
Taehyung sipped his water. “It’s my home too. Or did you forget your own contract?”
“You always have something to say,” Jungkook muttered.
“And you always act like silence makes you powerful.”
Taehyung turned, his voice low. “But all I see is a man scared of being alone with himself.”
That made Jungkook stop.
Really stop.
He looked at Taehyung—not with anger.
But with something raw.
Almost… human.
“Be careful,” Jungkook said. “You’re starting to sound like someone who knows me.”
“Maybe I do,” Taehyung whispered. “Maybe that’s why you hate me so much.”
The argument that night had started over nothing—some sponsor’s gala Taehyung didn’t want to attend.
Jungkook snapped, threw a glass, shattered it against the wall.
“Do you ever listen?!”
Taehyung didn’t flinch.
“I’m not your fan. I don’t owe you obedience.”
“You’re my husband,” Jungkook growled.
“Only because you bought me like a product on display.”
That did it.
Jungkook stepped forward, breathing heavy, fists clenched.
Taehyung looked him in the eye, unshaken.
“Go ahead. Hit me.”
Jungkook’s chest rose. Fell. Rose again.
Then he turned and left.
That night, Taehyung found him on the rooftop, shirt damp from rain, head tipped back as if the sky could answer for all his sins.
Taehyung stood beside him in silence.
“I never asked for this,” Jungkook murmured.
“Neither did I.”
After a pause, Jungkook spoke again, voice softer than usual.
“You stood against me like no one ever had. Not the managers. Not the media. Not even my father.”
Taehyung glanced at him.
“Is that why you married me? To break me?”
Jungkook didn’t answer.
He just looked at him, rain streaking his face like tears he’d never admit to.
“No,” he finally said. “Because you wouldn’t bend. And I… I think I wanted to see if someone like you could ever choose someone like me.”
Silence.
Then Taehyung asked something so quiet, it almost didn’t reach him.
“Why are you so angry all the time, Jungkook?”
And Jungkook, for once, didn’t lie.
“Because nobody ever stayed.”
Taehyung fell sick. High fever. Shaking. He had collapsed during a shoot, only half-conscious by the time the crew rushed him home.
Jiwoo wasn’t answering. The hospital was far. And Jungkook—who had just returned from a brand event—froze in the doorway.
“Tae?”
No answer.
Panic hit him like a fist.
He rushed over, lifted Taehyung carefully into his arms.
“Hey—hey, stay with me, okay? Look at me.”
Taehyung mumbled weakly. “You’re shouting.”
“Because you’re scaring me, idiot.”
“You said I was the devil last week.”
Jungkook pressed their foreheads together.
“You are. But you’re my devil.”
Taehyung woke slowly.
The fever had broken. He was in bed. Tucked in.
A warm towel rested on his forehead. Beside him on the nightstand: a bowl of porridge, a glass of juice… and a hand-drawn sticky note that read:
“Don’t die. I’m not done arguing with you. —JJK”
He stared at it for a long time.
Then smiled.
Just a little.
The armor had cracks now.
They didn’t talk about it.
But the hate didn’t feel as cold anymore.
The silence didn’t feel as sharp.
And somewhere between bruises and bandages…
Jeon Jungkook had started to care.
Even if he didn’t want to.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
5. [Return of the Phoenix]
Taehyung disappeared from the media like smoke in the wind.
No press conference. No goodbye.
One day he was Jeon Taehyung, idol wife, tabloid material, national topic—
The next, he was just Kim Taehyung, walking the streets of Busan with a hoodie pulled over his head and a bag slung across his back.
He stayed with a friend. Took odd styling jobs. Faded into a world where no one knew who he had loved, or how deeply he had been broken.
But pain doesn’t stay buried.
And neither do ghosts.
It was raining—of course it was—when Taehyung looked up from a pile of unpaid bills to see him.
Park Bogum.
His first love.
His university sweetheart.
And the man who had once vanished without a word.
“Taehyung,” Bogum whispered, rain dripping from his hair. “You still drink vanilla smoothie?”
Taehyung froze.
The world fell away for a moment. The music, the whispers, the weight on his shoulders.
He didn’t know what startled him more—Bogum’s face, or how much it still hurt to see it.
“You’re… back?”
Bogum smiled, gentle and shy.
“For good, this time.”
Bogum was sunshine after the storm.
He remembered how Taehyung liked his toast.
He played piano in the corner of cafés.
He laughed like he had never caused heartbreak.
And Taehyung—tired, raw, grieving—began to lean.
“You’re still soft,” Bogum murmured one night, brushing hair from his eyes.
“And you’re still dangerous,” Taehyung replied.
But he didn’t move away.
“You trust him?” Jiwoo asked, folding laundry.
Taehyung looked out the window, watching Bogum play with a stray kitten below.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I think I want to.”
Jiwoo sighed. “You’ve always wanted to believe in people who leave.”
Taehyung didn’t reply.
But the ache in his chest pulsed again.
Jungkook watched the TV screen in silence.
A tabloid photo flashed:
_“Taehyung spotted with mystery man—rumored to be Park Bogum!”_
He stared. Unblinking.
His manager entered.
“You okay?”
Jungkook didn’t answer.
Because in that moment, something snapped inside him.
Not jealousy.
Fear.
Bogum leaned back on the park bench, his arm brushing Taehyung’s.
“I’m sorry for leaving you,” he said suddenly.
Taehyung’s eyes narrowed. “You vanished. For years. No calls. No closure.”
Bogum looked at him. “Because I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That I’d fall too deep.”
Taehyung swallowed. “And now?”
Bogum smiled.
“Now I’m ready to fall.”
But beneath the smile was something else.
Something... unreadable.
Taehyung stared at his phone.
~JEON JUNGKOOK CALLING.~
For the first time in months.
He didn’t answer.
A minute later, a message appeared:
“He’s not who you think he is. Please, Tae. Talk to me. Before it’s too late.”
Taehyung deleted the message.
His fingers shook.
It was subtle at first.
The possessiveness.
The way Bogum flinched when Taehyung mentioned Jungkook’s name.
The way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
And then, one night, when Taehyung tried to leave his apartment—
Bogum grabbed his waist tightly.
“Why are you always running away from people who love you?”
Taehyung’s eyes widened, struggled to move.
“I’m not running. I’m choosing peace.”
Bogum’s grip tightened, leaned over his face.
“You still love him, don’t you?”
Taehyung stared at him.
And in that moment, he knew—
Bogum hadn’t come back for love. He had come back to win.
That night, barefoot, breathless, heart pounding—
Taehyung called Jungkook.
The call rang once. Twice. Picked up.
“Tae?” Jungkook’s voice was hoarse. “Tae, are you okay?!”
“I—” Taehyung whispered. “I think I made a mistake.”
“Where are you?”
Taehyung gave the address.
And for the first time since their marriage shattered—
Jungkook ran.
Because love doesn’t vanish.
Sometimes it hides behind ego, fear, betrayal…
But when danger knocks—
It returns like a phoenix.
And this time, it would burn down everything that threatened to hurt Taehyung again.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
6. [The Attack — Jungkook’s Redemption]
The city didn’t sleep.
And neither did Jeon Jungkook—not when he was in danger.
He ran through the rain, soaked to the bone, eyes wild with a fear he hadn’t felt since the night Taehyung left without a word.
There were guards he could’ve called. Police. Staff. But Jungkook didn’t think.
He just ran.
Because when love is real,
You don’t send help.
You become it.
Taehyung's bare backed against the wall, breath hitching.
Bogum’s expression had twisted into something unrecognizable—eyes glassy, jaw clenched, voice shaking not with sadness, but control slipping away.
“You’re not scared of me,” he said, pacing back and forth. “You’re scared of what he did to you.”
Taehyung swallowed hard, covered own body with both hands. “I’m not yours, Bogum.”
“You were mine first,” he snapped. “He got the version of you I built—the one I protected, shaped, loved—”
“Loved?” Taehyung’s voice broke. “You disappeared, Bogum. You left me with nothing.”
“And I came back,” Bogum whispered, stepping close, too close to breath trembling near his face. “Did he ever do ṬhaṬ?”
Taehyung looked him in the eye.
“Yes.”
A loud 'bang' echoed through the hall.
The door swung open— Jungkook..!
Rain clung to his skin, eyes burning with panic.
“Get away from him.”
Bogum flinched, back away from Taehyung. “This doesn’t concern you—”
Jungkook moved like instinct.
In two strides, he grabbed Bogum’s arm and slammed him backward, shielding Taehyung with his own body.
“Dare to touch him again,” Jungkook growled, “and I’ll show you what regret feels like.”
Bogum stumbled, shocked.
“Do you think you’re the hero now?” he spat. “You left him!”
“I never stopped loving him,” Jungkook said. “That’s the difference.”
Taehyung sat on the floor, knees to his chest, blanket draped around him. His hands still trembled.
Jungkook returned from the hallway—his shirt soaked, his knuckles scraped.
“I called aunt Jiwoo,” he said gently. “She’s on her way.”
Taehyung nodded, silent.
Jungkook knelt in front of him.
“You’re safe now.”
Taehyung looked up slowly.
“No, I’m not.”
Jungkook’s throat tightened. “Tae—”
“You hurt me, Jungkook,” he whispered. “You humiliated me. You said our marriage was fake. You broke something I was still trying to believe in.”
Jungkook’s voice cracked.
“I know.”
“So why did you come?”
“Because even if you hate me… I don’t want to live in a world where you’re scared and I’m not there.”
Taehyung looked at him, eyes shining with unshed tears.
“That’s not love. That’s guilt.”
Jungkook cupped his face with both hands, trembling.
“No,” he whispered. “This is my love.”
“I broke my own heart to protect you. I gave you up to keep you safe from them. I sold my silence and ruined my name just so they wouldn’t touch you.”
Taehyung blinked, stunned. “What…?”
“They threatened your family. My father’s debt. Your reputation. The only way I could save you was to destroy us.”
Taehyung stared at him.
“You should’ve told me.”
“I wanted to. Every night. I slept with my phone in my hand, praying you’d call me.”
Taehyung’s voice shook. “And now?”
Jungkook rested his forehead against Taehyung’s.
“Now I don’t care what it costs. I want you back.”
Taehyung closed his eyes.
And slowly, gently, he leaned in.
Their lips touched—not in hunger, but in homecoming.
It was shaky, desperate, soaked in tears.
But it was real.
They lay on the couch, limbs tangled, Jungkook’s head resting on Taehyung’s bare chest as if to listen to the proof he was still alive.
“You’re bleeding,” Taehyung whispered, stroking his hair.
“I’ve bled worse.”
“For me?”
“For you, always.”
Taehyung kissed his temple, voice a prayer.
“I wish we could start over.”
Jungkook whispered back.
“We still can.”
And in that quiet, bruised embrace—
The redemption wasn’t in the rescue.
It was in being held afterward.
In being forgiven by the only person who could break you and still make you whole.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
7. [Healing, Headlines & A Public Stand]
They didn’t talk about forgiveness at first.
They just… existed.
Side by side. Slow. Quiet.
Jungkook started waking up before Taehyung, just to watch him breathe.
Taehyung started leaving two mugs of coffee on the table—one sweet, one black—never asking which mood Jungkook was in.
And neither said “I love you.”
Not yet.
But they said it in everything else.
Like how Jungkook pressed a kiss to Taehyung’s knuckles after applying ointment to a bruise.
Or how Taehyung pulled him into bed at 2 a.m., whispering, “Just stay,” when nightmares clawed at Jungkook’s mind.
Healing wasn’t loud.
It was soft.
And it was real.
The tabloids didn’t ask for permission.
“Jeon Jungkook and Kim Taehyung Spotted Together After Public Divorce!”
“Secret Meetings or Second Chances?”
“Taehyung’s Ex, Park Bogum, Under Investigation for Stalking and Harassment!”
The headlines burned.
The public whispered.
And the industry stirred.
Jungkook walked into the boardroom like a man done being polite.
Mr. Hwang looked up from his espresso.
“You’ve been busy, Jungkook-ssi.”
Jungkook smiled thinly. “Not half as busy as your legal team’s going to be.”
The room stilled.
“I’m terminating my contract.”
“You can’t. You signed ten years.”
“I have evidence,” Jungkook said calmly, sliding a folder onto the table. “Of coercion, blackmail, and intentional defamation. I also have fifty million fans ready to make noise if I so much as blink.”
Mr. Hwang’s jaw twitched.
“You’re throwing everything away for a boy?”
Jungkook’s eyes flared.
“No,” he said. “I’m throwing away everything that made me someone he couldn’t trust.”
He stood.
“Have the papers sent. My lawyer will review them.”
“And what will you be without us, Jungkook?”
He didn’t even turn around.
“Free.”
The press conference was Taehyung’s idea.
Not to prove anything.
But because healing also meant not hiding anymore.
Jungkook sat beside him on stage, no makeup, no suit, no script. Just a simple black shirt and a microphone.
He looked into the cameras and said—
“Our story wasn’t a fairytale.
It was messy. Painful. Flawed.
But what we felt… what we still feel… is real.”
Taehyung reached over, took his hand.
“We were forced to pretend for so long.
Now, we’re just choosing to be honest.
We’re not asking for applause. Just space.”
“And maybe,” Jungkook added, smiling softly, “a little hope.”
The media was divided.
Some called it brave. Some called it reckless.
But no one could deny it:
It was love. Unpolished. Unscripted. Unbreakable.
They lay on the rooftop together, wrapped in a blanket under the stars.
“I still feel like I’m dreaming,” Taehyung whispered.
Jungkook laced their fingers together.
“Then let’s never wake up.”
Taehyung turned, pressing his forehead against Jungkook’s.
“Next time,” he said, voice trembling, “if you’re ever afraid... don’t protect me by pushing me away. Let me fight with you.”
Jungkook nodded, eyes glassy.
“I promise.”
Taehyung kissed him.
Not out of passion.
But out of peace.
And that night, for the first time since everything began—
There was no performance. No pain. No pretending.
Just two boys who had burned… and risen.
Together.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
8. [The Other Woman]
Love, even healed, is tested.
Sometimes not by anger… But by doubt.
And sometimes, it walks into your life wearing red lipstick, holding a pregnancy report.
The day had started like any other.
Jungkook was reviewing a script for his next project, Taehyung was on call with a children’s center about their new adoption requirements. They were happy. Busy. Getting stronger.
Until she walked in.
Slender. Pretty. Publicist for a fashion brand Jungkook had briefly endorsed.
“Taehyung-ssi?” she asked with a too-sweet smile.
Taehyung lowered his phone. “Yes?”
“I’m Nayeon. I believe I’ve… met your husband.”
Taehyung’s body stiffened.
Jungkook came down the hallway moments later—froze as soon as he saw her.
His eyes darted from her… to Taehyung… and back.
Nayeon’s voice was sugar-coated poison.
“I came to speak with Jungkook privately, but… I suppose since we’re all family now…” she trailed off, placing an envelope on the table.
A pregnancy report.
Positive.
Taehyung stood silent, the room too still.
Jungkook stepped forward. “It’s not what you think.”
Taehyung’s jaw tightened. “Then say what it is.”
“She’s lying,” Jungkook said quickly. “We went to one party six months ago, and—Taehyung, I swear, I don’t remember even talking to her for longer than a few minutes.”
“And now she’s carrying your child?”
“No!” Jungkook insisted. “She’s using me. Trying to blackmail us.”
Taehyung stared at him, something in his eyes cracking.
“You don’t even deny being with her that night?”
Silence.
Jungkook opened his mouth, then closed it.
Taehyung stepped back, breath trembling. “You said we’d never go back to that place again. You said no more lies.”
“I’m not lying—!”
“But you’re not clean either, are you?” Taehyung whispered.
And that broke Jungkook more than shouting ever could.
They didn’t say the word.
They didn’t need to.
Taehyung quietly packed a few things and left their shared home that night.
No drama.
Just devastation.
He moved into his aunt Jiwoo’s spare room again, the same one he’d stayed in after their first fall.
History repeated. Pain deepened.
Jungkook called.
Taehyung didn’t answer.
Because betrayal wasn’t always physical.
Sometimes it was in carelessness.
In things left unspoken.
In the silence you didn’t fight to fill.
The rain returned, cruel and mocking.
Jungkook was on his way to the station after receiving a call—Nayeon was ready to confess, expose everything, admit the pregnancy was fake.
He drove fast.
Too fast.
Anger at himself. Hope to clear the mess. Fear he was already too late.
He didn’t see the truck until it was too close.
Screech.
Crash.
Broken Glasses.
Slumped Into Darkness.
Taehyung was making tea when his phone rang.
He answered distractedly—until Jiwoo’s gasp made him freeze.
She turned, pale.
“Tae… it’s Jungkook.”
Time stopped.
Machines beeped. Nurses rushed. The air smelled of antiseptic and desperation.
Taehyung walked into the room with numb legs.
Jungkook lay there—still, bruised, unconscious.
He looked small somehow.
The boy who once ruled stages now tucked beneath wires and bandages.
Taehyung sat beside him, took his hand.
“Why did you do this to us?” he whispered.
“I believed in you. I forgave you. I loved you.”
His voice cracked.
“I left not because I stopped loving you—but because I had to. Because if I stayed after another lie… I’d lose the last piece of myself.”
Jungkook didn’t answer.
He just breathed.
Soft. Faint. But alive.
He woke up slowly.
Blinking. Gasping.
And the first thing he saw… was Taehyung.
Curled up in the chair, face swollen from crying, asleep with his hand still holding Jungkook’s.
Jungkook whispered, hoarse, “Tae?”
Taehyung stirred.
And when their eyes met—
Taehyung didn’t speak.
He just kissed his hand. Pressed his forehead against it. And whispered:
“Don’t do that again. Don’t leave me like that.”
Jungkook nodded weakly.
“I thought I lost you,” he rasped.
“You almost did,” Taehyung whispered. “But not because of her. Because you forgot what we’re made of.”
Jungkook blinked. “What… are we made of?”
Taehyung smiled through his tears.
“Wounds. Promises. Fire. And forgiveness.”
And that day, the world learned—
That the strongest love isn’t one without betrayal…
But the one that heals after it.
Again. And again. And again.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
9. [The Disappearance]
Jungkook disappeared on a Tuesday.
There was no note. No call. Just… absence.
The hospital bed was cold by morning. His phone lay on the side table, untouched. His ID, wallet, keys—all there.
Only he was missing.
The world didn’t know yet.
But Taehyung did.
Because when the one you love vanishes, the silence feels different.
It aches.
“He’s probably resting somewhere,” Jiwoo said gently. “Maybe he needed time.”
Taehyung didn’t move.
He stood by the window, staring out at nothing. He hadn’t slept in two nights. His voice came quiet, raw: “If he wanted time, he’d tell me.”
Jiwoo hesitated. “Unless he thought he couldn’t.”
Taehyung turned. “You think he left me?”
“No,” she said, after a pause. “I think fate again took him from you.”
The first time Taehyung saw him—he almost fainted.
It was on a K-pop news blog, buried beneath sponsorship rumors and scandal gossip.
_“Jeon Jungkook Spotted in Tokyo?”_
The photos showed a man in sunglasses, walking with security, waving at fans.
Same jawline. Same nose. Same posture.
But Taehyung knew.
That wasn’t Jungkook.
It was someone else.
Someone who looked like him.
A mask with his eyes. A puppet with his walk.
A ghost.
He had a name.
"JJ". Jeong Justin.
A Korean-American K-pop trainee-turned-actor. Suddenly debuting. Suddenly trending.
Suddenly… everywhere.
He sang like Jungkook. Moved like Jungkook. Even smiled the same way during interviews.
And no one questioned it.
Because the world didn’t care for truth.
It cared for image.
And someone wanted 'Jungkook replaced'.
The pressure began within a week.
Jiwoo received a call from an anonymous number. A calm, cold voice.
“Tell Taehyung to accept Justin.
Or we’ll make sure he never sees Jungkook again.”
Jiwoo’s hands trembled.
And then came the offers.
Modeling gigs. International shoots. Magazine covers—if he appeared beside Justin. If he smiled. If he said:
"Yes, this is the man I love now."
But Taehyung refused.
Every time.
Because he knew Jungkook.
And wherever he was—he hadn’t left. He’d been taken.
“You’re being stubborn,” Jiwoo snapped one night. “You don’t know where Jungkook is, Tae! You don’t know if—”
“Don’t,” Taehyung cut in, voice shaking. “Don’t you dare say it.”
Jiwoo’s eyes filled with tears. “They threatened me. You. Our home. They want you with Justin. And I can’t protect you from this.”
Taehyung clenched his fists.
“I’d rather be ruined than lie again.”
Jiwoo cried. “Then what if they hurt him to punish you?”
Taehyung froze.
The silence grew heavy between them.
Justin—JJ—appeared on a reality show three days later.
“I’ve always admired Taehyung-ssi,” he said with a practiced smile. “He’s strong. Beautiful. I think… fate brought us together.”
The host grinned. “Any messages for him?”
Justin tilted his head.
“If you give me a chance, I’ll make you forget your pain.”
Taehyung watched the clip once.
Then turned off the screen.
Whispered to himself:
“I will never forget him.
Even if you erase him from the world.”
~And somewhere, in a place unknown,~
Jungkook opened his eyes in a dark room.
His wrists were bandaged.
His throat dry.
And on the wall opposite his bed… A mirror.
He stared at it. At himself.
At the man they made wear his name.
And he whispered, broken—
“Tae… I’m still here.”
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
10. [Smoke & Mirrors]
It began with silence.
Jungkook had vanished. Justin had arrived. And the world—so quick to forget—wrapped itself around the new face with the old name.
But Taehyung remembered.
He remembered the tattoo under Jungkook’s left ear. The way his breath hitched when he cried in his sleep. The sound of his laughter when he wasn’t being watched.
Justin had none of it.
He waited until Jiwoo was asleep to pull out his old laptop.
Untraceable. Hidden IPs. Burner contacts.
Every night, Taehyung scrolled through obscure forums, blacklisted fan accounts, anonymous K-pop insiders. Rumors. Whispers.
_“Jungkook sighted in a private hospital in Busan.”_
_“Company truck moved a man under heavy sedation.”_
_“Lookalike debuted two weeks after Jungkook went MIA.”_
One clue.
Just one clue.
And he’d rip the world apart.
Smiling. Soft-spoken. Too perfect.
He began appearing everywhere Taehyung went—charity events, airport lounges, studios, even bookshops.
“Let me walk you home,” he’d say.
Taehyung would nod, smiling faintly. “You always show up.”
Justin laughed. “Maybe I’m meant to.”
But Taehyung wasn’t smiling because of affection.
He was smiling because now he knew.
This wasn’t coincidence.
Justin was sent.
To distract him. To stop him.
To replace what the world thought he’d lost.
They were at a rooftop dinner party—a networking event for luxury brands.
Justin leaned in, brushing something from Taehyung’s smooth collar.
“Do you… miss him?” he asked, eyes searching.
Taehyung didn’t flinch.
Instead, he tilted his head, lips curling.
“I don’t remember him.”
Justin blinked. “You’re moving on…?”
Taehyung’s voice dropped like honey over a knife. “Why hold on to someone who disappeared?” He smiled.
And Justin melted. He leaned and kissed Taehyung’s forehead.
Back at home, Taehyung stared into his mirror.
He touched his own lips.
“I will become what they want,” he whispered to himself. “Until they show me what they fear.”
He knew now—Justin wasn’t just a distraction.
_He was the gatekeeper._
Too close. Too eager. Too controlled.
So Taehyung gave him what he wanted.
Smiles. Hugs. Kisses. Late-night texts. Accidental hand touches. Shared umbrella moments.
And Justin, oblivious, fell.
“You’re nothing like I imagined,” Justin murmured one evening as they walked by the river.
Taehyung turned, the moonlight on his face too perfect to be real.
“And what did you imagine?”
“A prince,” Justin admitted. “Cold. Distant. Unreachable.”
Taehyung stopped walking.
He leaned in slowly.
So close, Justin forgot how to breathe.
“And now?”
Justin’s voice was a whisper. “Now I think I might be the one in danger.”
Taehyung smiled—sweet, soft, lethal.
“Good.”
Justin invited Taehyung to his condo days later.
To “cook together.” To “talk.”
But as Taehyung excused himself to the bathroom, he found something on the desk.
A tablet. Unlocked.
And on it—
Encrypted messages.
Foreign transactions.
A file named: 'JK_SUBJECT_23.'
His heart stopped.
The blood roared in his ears.
He didn’t open the file. He just took a photo of it.
Because now, it wasn’t just suspicion.
It was proof.
That night, Justin leaned to kiss him again.
On the balcony, beneath city lights, with trembling fingers and honest eyes.
“I know I’m not him,” Justin whispered near his lips. “But I want to be enough for you.”
Taehyung placed a finger over his lips.
And said the most dangerous thing a heartbroken man can say:
“You already are.”
But inside—
His soul screamed.
His stomach turned.
And his heart whispered, Forgive me, Jungkook.
Because he would smile until the puppet broke. Until the mirror shattered.
Until 'they' returned him to the man he loved.
And when that day came— No one would be able to hide behind a fake face again.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
11. [The File – The Man Behind the Curtain]
Some truths don’t scream. They wait.
Lurking in drawers, locked away behind passwords and polished lies—
Until someone brave enough decides to look.
[The Night of Discovery]
Taehyung waited for Justin to fall asleep—his head on the armrest, soft breath brushing the curve of the sofa.
He moved like a ghost.
Careful. Calm. Cold.
The office room was quiet, dimly lit, untouched.
The drawer he'd seen last time… was locked.
He used the fork he’d tucked in his sleeve. One twist. Two.
'Click.'
The drawer slid open.
Inside: contracts. Files. USBs. One folder labeled:
“JJ: Activation + Phase II”
He opened it with shaking hands.
The first page was a contract.
Signed. Stamped.
With Jeong Justin’s name… and Jeon Songhyun. Jungkook’s father...!?
"JJ shall act as the designated public substitute during Jeon Jungkook’s incapacitation..."
"...Upon Jungkook's recovery and Taehyung's separation or exit, JJ will be discharged."
"...Incentive: Full debut, property in Gangnam, media protection for family."
Taehyung’s world stopped turning.
He stumbled backward.
Not because Justin was fake—he had already known that.
But because 'Jungkook’s own father had orchestrated his erasure.'
The lookalike. The breakup.
The accident. The silence.
And 'all of it… had been planned.'
Taehyung didn’t sleep that night.
By morning, he was flawless.
Hair curled gently around his cheekbones. Lips painted like rose. Eyes deep, dark, unreadable.
He found Justin on the balcony, staring at the city like he owned nothing and wanted everything.
“Justin,” Taehyung said softly.
Justin turned.
“I think… I’m ready.”
“Ready for what?” he asked, almost breathless.
Taehyung stepped close.
“For this.”
And he leaned in, wrapped his arms around Justin’s waist, leaned to kiss his forehead.
“I tried to forget Jungkook. I tried to hate you.”
A pause.
“But maybe… love doesn’t always look how we imagined it would.”
Justin stared at him.
Heart pounding. Eyes wide.
He believed it. He believed every word.
And that was the saddest part.
Later that evening, Justin sat on the edge of the bed, his hands shaking.
“I need to tell you something,” he whispered.
Taehyung stayed quiet.
Justin looked up, eyes burning.
“I wasn’t supposed to fall for you. I wasn’t supposed to even be real. I was a stand-in, Taehyung. A backup plan.”
Taehyung’s gaze remained unreadable.
“Jeon Songhyun hired me. Gave me this life. Told me you'd fall apart, that you’d move on, and I’d replace everything.”
His voice cracked. “But I didn’t know I’d fall in love with you. Not like this.”
Taehyung didn’t flinch.
Didn’t speak.
Just raised his hand— And slapped him.
Justin didn’t move.
He let the pain bloom across his cheek like a punishment he welcomed.
Taehyung spoke, voice low and trembling.
“You think love is an act you earn through deception? You think this pain—this loss—can be kissed away with guilt?”
Justin looked down.
“I deserve that.”
“No,” Taehyung said coldly. “You deserve truth.”
The silence stretched before Justin whispered— “I want to fix this.”
Taehyung turned. “You can’t.”
“But I can help you expose him.”
Taehyung stared at him. “Why would you do that?”
Justin’s voice cracked. “Because I want to love you the right way, even if I’m too late.”
Taehyung’s lips curled—sad, bitter, broken.
“Then you’ll play your role. Perfectly.”
From that day forward, the cameras saw a dream.
Public outings. Shared glances. Accidental touches. Whispers into ears.
Justin played the smitten lover.
Taehyung played the man softening.
But behind the curtains—
They plotted. The trap was being set.
And the prey? 'Jeon Songhyun.'
The man who erased his son to build an empire of obedience.
The man who would soon learn—
You can fabricate an idol. You can replace a body. But you can’t kill a love born in fire.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
12. [The Trap – The Reunion Behind Glass]
Some meetings aren’t meant to be loud.
Some are meant to shatter silently—
Like glass separating two hearts still beating for each other.
He shouldn’t have done it.
He was told not to. Paid not to.
Warned never to. But guilt has a voice.
And Justin couldn’t silence it anymore.
So one midnight, behind an abandoned dance studio in Hongdae, with guards paid to look the other way—
He brought Taehyung to him. To his Jungkook.
Jungkook sat alone in a locked observation room.
Hair longer. Face paler. Wrists thinner.
But the moment Taehyung stepped into view, behind the thick security glass—
Jungkook’s eyes lit up.
He stood so fast his chair fell behind him.
“Tae—!” he cried, voice hoarse, fingers pressing against the glass. “Tae, it’s you—”
Taehyung pressed his palm against it. Tears brimmed, but didn’t fall.
“I’m here.”
Jungkook’s voice broke.
“I thought I’d never see you again. I thought—”
“They said you forgot me. They said you moved on.”
Taehyung’s expression shattered.
“I never did. I never would.”
Their hands aligned through the glass.
And love poured out of silence.
“I need you to stay hidden,” Taehyung whispered, crouched beside the one-way mic that Justin activated for them to communicate.
Jungkook’s brows furrowed. “But—”
“I have one shot, Koo. One. If he finds out you’re alive before I’m ready, he’ll vanish again.”
“You're talking about him, aren’t you?” Jungkook’s voice turned cold. “My father.”
Taehyung nodded.
“I’m collecting evidence. Money trails. Documents. Contracts. And Justin… he's helping us from the inside.”
Jungkook glanced toward the door, guilt in his eyes.
“And are you… okay? Pretending to love him?”
Taehyung smiled faintly. “I’ve done worse for less.”
“Do you fallen for him?” Jungkook asked softly.
“No.”
That was the only answer.
And it was enough.
Jeon Songhyun didn’t suspect a thing.
Why would he?
To the world, he was the grieving father of a son who “never woke up” and the mastermind behind the flawless debut of a phoenix called JJ.
Taehyung played his part well.
Smiling at Justin. Accepting brand deals. Dropping hints of “love reborn” in press interviews.
And Justin?
He stood beside Taehyung at every stage—smiling too brightly, laughing too loudly.
But no one noticed the pain behind his eyes.
Because he knew.
He was helping the man he loved… reunite with someone else.
Jiwoo sent encrypted files from overseas—contracts, offshore accounts, forged medical reports.
Old staff members stepped forward.
A private nurse confessed that Jungkook was sedated against his will for weeks.
A sound engineer leaked backstage footage from a mic that had never been cut.
The noose tightened around Songhyun’s empire.
And all he did?
Was smile into cameras.
A press gala was arranged by Galaxy Corp.
The theme: “Legacy, Loyalty, Love.”
Taehyung in black silk.
Justin in Jungkook’s custom-fit tuxedo.
The cameras loved them.
And just as the flashes peaked—
'Jeon Songhyun entered.'
Grinning. Confident. Unknowing.
He walked up to the stage.
Raised his glass.
“To my son,” he announced, placing a hand on Justin’s shoulder, “who rose from the ashes. And to his beloved Taehyung—for helping him heal.”
The applause roared.
Taehyung looked at him—at the man who destroyed everything he ever loved—
And smiled like a dagger.
“Thank you, Appa-nim,” he said sweetly into the mic.
“And now, if you’ll allow… I’d like to give my thanks—by revealing something beautiful. Something real.”
Songhyun blinked.
Taehyung stepped aside.
And behind him, a video screen lit up.
Jungkook—bruised, sedated—being wheeled into a van.
Date-stamped. GPS-logged.
Staff whispering: “Mr. Songhyun wants him under until the launch.”
The press gasped.
Songhyun's smile faltered.
Another clip.
A signed contract.
His signature authorizing “temporary replacement protocol.”
The same stamp on Justin’s agreement.
The crowd murmured.
Taehyung turned to face him.
Calm. Icy. Glorious.
“You replaced your son,” he said.
“You tried to erase him. And when that didn’t work, you tried to erase me.”
“But love remembers what power forgets.”
Real. Alive. Unbreakable.
He walked in slowly—quietly—and stood beside Taehyung.
Justin stood behind, frozen, trembling.
Jungkook met his father’s stunned eyes.
“I was never dead,” he said.
“You just buried me under lies.”
The cameras flashed like lightning.
Songhyun stepped back, speechless.
Taehyung whispered:
“It’s over.”
And that night—
The empire built on control crumbled.
The truth roared louder than money.
And the boy who was never meant to survive stood victorious, hand-in-hand with the one who never stopped loving him.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
13. [The Aftermath – Where Love Is Finally Loud]
The storm had passed.
But the silence that followed wasn’t peace.
It was grief, dressed in victory.
_Jeon Songhyun—Arrested. Exposed. Fallen._
The cuffs clicked louder than any applause.
Pushed into the back of a police car, his empire trailing behind him like ash, Jeon Songhyun didn’t even look back.
His crimes played on every screen:
Kidnapping. Fraud. Medical manipulation. Industry coercion.
But Taehyung only cared about one thing.
The man standing beside him again.
Jeon Jungkook.
Alive. Cleared. Returned.
And now… his.
Hand in hand.
No disguises. No shadows. No stand-ins.
Jungkook kissed Taehyung on live television.
Taehyung cupped his face like it was holy.
The world sighed, cried, screamed.
But they just looked at each other.
And said nothing.
Because after surviving fire and betrayal,
Words were too small for what they held between them.
Justin didn’t speak to the press.
He didn’t release a statement.
He simply… stepped away.
Vanished from the screens he once ruled.
And no one followed.
No one… except one.
It came past midnight.
Jungkook was asleep—soft from medication, curled like a child beside Taehyung.
The phone vibrated once.
Justin’s name blinked on screen.
Taehyung hesitated.
Then slipped out quietly.
He remembered the stairs.
How they creaked.
How the air always smelled like citrus and something sad.
Justin stood at the balcony door, arms crossed, eyes glassy.
“You came.”
Taehyung’s voice was soft. “I had to.”
Justin chuckled bitterly. “No, you didn’t.”
“I thought,” Justin whispered, “if I did enough good… if I burned enough of myself for you… you might stay.”
Taehyung’s eyes stung. “Justin—”
“I know it wasn’t real for you,” he said. “I know. But I loved you the way I was never meant to love anyone.”
He turned slowly. Broken. Open.
“Just once,” he asked, voice trembling, “don’t love me back. But… let me love you.”
Taehyung didn’t speak. He stepped forward.
Placed a hand on Justin’s cheek.
And whispered, “Then love me. Just for tonight.”
They didn’t undress. They didn’t make love.
They just held each other.
On the couch. Wrapped in a blanket of everything that would never be.
Justin buried his face in Taehyung’s neck, breathing in that man's embrace who was already gone.
Taehyung stroked his hair. Pressed a kiss to his forehead gently.
And when Justin leaned up—shaking, scared, aching— Taehyung let him kiss him.
Once. Tender. Fleeting.
He pressed his lips on him, sucked the soul out of him. Taehyung didn’t flinch or moved, let him feel his heat. Both body was hot in that cold night. But there's no regret, only pain. Shattered heart and brain.
When Taehyung woke, the blanket was still warm.
But the space beside him was empty.
Justin was gone.
No note. No sound.
Just… gone.
Like a dream too heavy to hold on to.
Taehyung returned to their apartment just past sunrise.
Jungkook was still asleep, fingers curled around Taehyung’s pillow.
As if reaching for him even in dreams.
Taehyung crawled into bed.
Pressed himself into Jungkook’s warmth.
And this time, it was him who clung tighter.
Jungkook stirred faintly, mumbling, “You smell like outside…”
Taehyung kissed his shoulder.
“I’m home now.”
Jungkook smiled, eyes still shut.
“Good. Don’t go far.”
Taehyung closed his eyes.
And whispered,
“I won’t. Not again.”
And so, the truth of love is this—
Sometimes, your heart breaks for someone else
While still belonging to another.
But real love doesn’t demand a spotless past.
It just asks:
“Are you here now?”
And when Taehyung said yes—
Jungkook held him like it was all that ever mattered.
Because to him, it was.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
14. [A New Life – In Busan, With Him]
Some cities know your secrets.
Seoul had seen them fall apart.
Cry in backstage corridors.
Lie into microphones.
Bury love beneath headlines.
So they left.
[A Quiet Goodbye]
Jungkook didn’t tell his agency.
Taehyung didn’t post a picture.
They just packed their lives into cardboard boxes, loaded them into an old van, and drove south—
Past mountains, past memories, past the places that had hurt them.
No fans. No press.
Just music playing low on the radio.
Jungkook drove.
Taehyung read a children’s storybook aloud, practicing for the daughter they would bring home soon.
When they crossed the city limits into Busan, Jungkook reached over—
And held Taehyung’s hand.
No words.
Just this: 'We made it.'
It was nothing like their Seoul penthouse.
Small. Warm. Lived-in.
Salt air kissed the windows. The waves hummed lullabies against the shore.
There was a garden patch.
A creaky swing.
And a bedroom that smelled like sunlight.
“Is this really okay?” Jungkook asked as they laid down the first rug.
Taehyung smiled, brushing hair from Jungkook’s eyes.
“This is perfect.”
And when the power cut off that night, they laughed in the candlelight and danced barefoot across the floorboards.
Taehyung baked bread.
Jungkook painted the walls.
They made playlists, not schedules.
Late breakfasts, not interviews.
And silence wasn’t heavy anymore.
It was healing.
He wrote in it every night.
One page.
Three lines.
Always ending with:“Today, we were okay.”
And sometimes:“Today, we were better than okay.”
One night, while Jungkook slept with his head in Taehyung’s lap, Taehyung wrote:
“If he ever finds out about Justin,
I will tell him the truth. But only if he asks.
And only if I feel he’s strong enough not to hate himself for not knowing.
Because it was me who broke once.
Not him.”
He folded it. Tucked it inside the back cover. And never gave it away.
Every Friday, they walked hand in hand through the fish market. No disguises. Just hats and warm smiles.
Ahjummas would grin.
Kids would whisper, “Are they famous?”
One old man said, “You look like lovers from a painting.”
Taehyung laughed. “We are. Just one with torn edges.”
They sat on the porch, listening to the thunder.
Jungkook, sipping tea, said suddenly:
“Would you still love me… if I was no one again?”
Taehyung turned, heart aching.
“You were never no one to me. Even when the world forgot your name.”
He kissed Jungkook’s temple.
“You’re not famous here. But you’re mine. That’s better.”
Jungkook laughed into his cup.
“Still smooth with words.”
“Still stupid in love,” Taehyung replied.
“Mr. Jeon, Mr. Kim,” said the voice from the agency.
“Your adoption has been approved. Taeri’s ready to meet you.”
They froze.
Stared at each other.
Then Taehyung whispered,
“We’re going to be Appa and Papa.”
Jungkook pulled him in.
Held him like he did on their wedding night. Like the end of the world. Like the beginning of one.
And so began a new life—
Far from fame. Close to the ocean.
Wrapped in sheets and paint-stained fingers and the future they never thought they’d reach.
Because sometimes, you don’t start over.
You just… start again.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
15. [Taeri – The Girl Who Made Them Whole]
Some arrivals don’t need fanfare.
Just the sound of a tiny voice saying,
“Appa?”
The orphanage in Busan was painted in pastel blue.
Quiet halls. Worn wooden toys. Faded murals of cartoon animals.
Jungkook sat with both palms pressed between his knees.
Taehyung held a stuffed rabbit—white, with crooked ears.
They had picked it out weeks ago.
The first thing they ever bought together… for someone else.
“She’s nervous,” the staff had said.
“So are we,” Taehyung had smiled.
Jungkook whispered now, “What if she doesn’t like us?”
“She’s four,” Taehyung whispered back. “She likes soup with too many carrots. I think we’ll be fine.”
Tiny. In a yellow sweater too big for her shoulders. Two ponytails. A scraped knee. Mismatched socks.
A serious expression on her face.
“Which one of you is Appa?” she asked, voice tiny but firm.
They both stood up. Then froze.
Jungkook stammered. “Uh—well—I can be—if you want—”
Taehyung crouched to her level, rabbit in hand.
“I’m Taehyung. You can call me Papa.”
She looked up at Jungkook.
“Then you’re Appa?”
Jungkook nodded, overwhelmed.
She squinted. “You look like a prince.”
Taehyung laughed. “He’s just good at hiding naps.”
Jungkook choked on a laugh. “Hey!”
And that’s when she smiled.
Small. Shy. Bright.
She reached out her hand.
“Can I go home now?”
She fell asleep in the backseat—rabbit tucked beneath her arm, thumb in her mouth.
Jungkook kept looking into the mirror.
As if making sure she was real.
“She’s so small,” he whispered.
Taehyung smiled, watching her.
“So were we once.”
She ran through the rooms like a little whirlwind. Named every chair.
Asked if clouds sleep in the ocean.
Demanded to know who painted the hallway “so boring.”
They let her pick the wallpaper for her room.
She chose dinosaurs. Pink ones.
Jungkook tried to reason.
Taehyung already had them ordered.
She refused to sleep alone.
So they made a nest of pillows in their bedroom.
She curled in between them, one hand on Jungkook’s chest, one leg flung over Taehyung.
“I love you,” she mumbled sleepily.
Then:
“Both of you. But Appa more. Because he has snacks in his pockets.”
Taehyung gasped. “That’s Unfair!”
Jungkook smirked. “You should’ve stocked up.”
Jungkook whispered, “She smells like strawberries.”
Taehyung whispered back, “She’s our miracle.”
“She’s our whole.”
They kissed softly over her forehead, careful not to wake her.
And both closed their eyes…
For once, unafraid of tomorrow.
“Today, Taeri called us her family.
And for the first time, that word didn’t ache.
It felt like sunrise.”
And so it ended—
Not with applause. Not with lights. Not even with a kiss.
But with a small hand in theirs.
A sleepy giggle. And three hearts finally finding home. Because love doesn’t just win. It heals.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
**🌸 Epilogue — A Quiet Song**
The sun dipped low over the Han River, smearing the sky with honey-gold and pink. The world had long stopped caring about the scandals, the betrayals, the stardom, the headlines.
But for Jeon Jungkook and Kim Taehyung… their story hadn’t ended. It had simply changed rhythm.
They now lived in a modest house in Busan, far from the K-pop glare and greedy camera flashes. A place where Taeri’s laughter echoed louder than any applause Jungkook had ever received. A place where Taehyung could paint quietly by the window while humming old ballads, his fingers stained with color instead of pain.
---------------------------------------
**“Appa, look!”**
Taeri ran barefoot through the grass, holding up a lopsided flower crown she’d made. She was seven now. Wild-haired, fierce-eyed, and fiercely loved.
Jungkook, lounging in a hammock, sat up and beamed.
“Is that for me, princess?”
“Nope. For Papa Tae,” she giggled. “He’s the prettier one.”
Taehyung peeked from the doorway, apron stained, and laughed.
“Even she knows,” he teased Jungkook, walking over to kneel and accept the crown. He placed it on his head like it was royalty. “Thank you, my queen.”
Taeri curtsied dramatically, then darted off to chase butterflies.
---------------------------------------
That evening, as soft jazz floated from the radio, Taehyung rested his head on Jungkook’s shoulder. They watched their daughter sleep—curled up on the couch beside a half-eaten cookie and a picture book about stars.
“She asked me today… if we were ever famous,” Jungkook whispered.
Taehyung smiled without opening his eyes. “What did you say?”
“That we were once loved by the world… but now we’re only needed by one girl. And that’s enough.”
Taehyung chuckled.
“You’ve gotten wise.”
“I’ve been married to you for eight years,” Jungkook teased. “It’s survival.”
They sat in silence, holding hands.
----------------------------------------
Outside, the wind hummed.
Inside, two men—who had once lost everything to pride, revenge, and fear—now found everything in the quiet.
A stolen kiss. A child’s yawn.
A life they built together, brick by painful brick.
--------------------------------------
**And maybe that’s how legends end.**
Not with applause. But with peace.
A peace that sings gently, like a lullaby…
Too loud to forget.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
**Flashback: [The Wedding They Chose]**
It wasn’t extravagant. Not like the first time.
No press. No guests forced to smile for cameras. No choreographed dances or scripted vows. Just them—Taehyung and Jungkook—and the quiet sky above.
The venue was a garden behind their coastal villa, dressed in wildflowers and wind.
Taehyung stood in cream linen, the breeze toying with the curls falling over his forehead. He looked like spring.
Jungkook approached slowly, his hands trembling despite years of performing on world stages.
“You’re nervous?” Taehyung asked, eyes soft.
“I wasn’t… until I saw you,” Jungkook whispered. “You look like a promise.”
Taehyung stepped closer, took his hands.
“And you look like peace after a war.”
They didn’t need a priest. Or a podium.
They simply looked into each other’s eyes, and spoke:
“I don’t vow to be perfect,” Taehyung said. “Only honest. And always here.”
“I won’t ask for forgiveness for our past,” Jungkook said. “But I’ll spend the rest of my life earning it.”
And then, with laughter in their eyes and tears in their throats, they kissed.
The world didn’t know.
But Taeri, their adopted daughter—still a toddler in her tutu—clapped her tiny hands and squealed, “My appas are princes!”
That was enough.
That was everything.
--------------------------------------
**Bonus Scene 1: [Kitchen Wars & Kisses]**
One rainy afternoon…
“Give me the soy sauce,” Taehyung commanded.
“Nope,” Jungkook said, holding the bottle behind his back. “You’re banned after the ‘noodle incident’.”
“That was ONE TIME!”
“You made the ramen sweet!”
“It was creative!”
“It was a "f00d crime".”
They stared each other down like it was a drama shoot.
Then Jungkook suddenly leaned forward, pecking Taehyung’s lips.
Taehyung froze. “…What was that for?”
“To distract you,” Jungkook said smugly, turning to escape.
Taehyung threw a spoon.
He missed.
But they ended up laughing so hard, the kitchen became their favorite room.
--------------------------------------
**Bonus Scene 2: [The Nightmare]**
One night, Taehyung woke up gasping. The same old dream—'Jungkook announcing it was all a lie. That he never loved him. That it was still revenge.'
He sat up, trembling, heart racing.
Jungkook stirred beside him, instantly alert. “Tae?”
“I—I dreamt it again.”
Jungkook didn’t ask. He simply pulled Taehyung close, arms tight, hand stroking his hair.
“Hey, look at me,” he whispered. “We’re here. You and me. I’m not going anywhere.”
Taehyung buried his face in Jungkook’s chest.
“You always say that.”
“I always mean it.”
--------------------------------------
**Bonus Scene 3: [Taeri’s Stage Debut]**
Age 8. Dressed in a bunny onesie, Taeri stood backstage, nervous.
Appa Tae was fussing with her ears. Appa JK was holding her juice like it was gold.
“Appa,” she whispered, “what if I forget the dance?”
Taehyung crouched down. “Then just smile. You’re our sunshine. You’ll still shine.”
Jungkook winked. “And don’t worry. You inherited your papa’s drama genes.”
Taeri giggled.
That night, she danced, missed half the steps, dropped her carrot prop—and still got a standing ovation from two men who cheered like the world was ending.
🌸 The End. 🌸
A one-line poetic moral for this story:
"True love may bend, break, and disappear—but it always finds its way home when the heart refuses to forget."
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A/N: I don't know if it ended up the way I wanted it to, but I still want you to leave some comments here. I wrote something a little different or a little more than my everyday stories. So please don't leave without a like and a follow, because I can bring more oneshot stories like this. So see you in my next story....♡
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