The rain poured heavily outside the small, dimly lit apartment. The ceiling leaked, and the old wooden floor creaked with every step.
He sat on the torn couch, his arms wrapped around his frail body. The cold seeped into his bones, but he didn’t care. What mattered was the small bundle of warmth sleeping beside him.
"𝙈𝙖𝙢𝙖…" A tiny voice murmured, breaking the silence.
Jungkook turned, his tired eyes softening at the sight of his four-and-a-half-year-old son, jihyun . His dark eyes, so much like his father’s, blinked up at him, full of curiosity and concern. His small hand reached out to touch his cheek.
𝙅𝙞𝙝𝙮𝙪𝙣
"𝘼𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙖𝙙 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣?" His voice was innocent yet firm, something unusual for a child his age.
Jungkook forced a smile, running his fingers through his jet-black hair. He looked so much like his father . It hurt to see those features, but jihyun was nothing like the man who had broken him. He was his strength, his reason to keep going.
𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤
"𝙉𝙤, 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮, 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜," he whispers .
jihyun sat up, frowning. Even at his young age, he understood more than he should.
𝙅𝙞𝙝𝙮𝙪𝙣
"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝." His words made Jungkook heart ache.
He had noticed. Of course, he had. He tried so hard to make sure he never went to bed hungry, but there were days when he couldn’t afford enough. She has been working odd jobs—cleaning houses, waiting tables—anything to keep jihyun safe and fed.
Tonight, they had shared the last piece of bread he could afford.
Comments
Alfi...💜
so sad 🥺
2025-02-14
0
Stephanie
waiting for more
2025-02-10
0