Chapter 2: First Day in the New Home

The morning air was cool when Taehyung stepped out of the small wooden house.

His steps were cautious, his bare feet brushing against the uneven stone path outside the door.

The house wasn’t large—just two small rooms, a tiny kitchen space, and a yard where thin lines of laundry swayed gently in the breeze. The faint smell of damp wood and soil lingered in the air. It was quiet, but not silent. Somewhere, a rooster crowed. In the distance, village women chattered as they fetched water.

It didn’t feel like his life.

But it was his now.

Taehyung rubbed his arms, still unsure whether to step further or return inside.

"You're up early."

Jungkook’s calm voice sounded from the side, startling him slightly.

Taehyung turned to find him crouched near the firewood pile, calmly tying bundles with thick rope. His sleeves were already rolled up, and a faint sheen of sweat clung to his temples even in the cool morning air. His movements were steady, practiced.

There was something about Jungkook—how quietly he existed, as if the world expected nothing from him, and he gave nothing back.

Taehyung swallowed and mumbled, "I didn’t feel like staying inside."

Jungkook only hummed in response. He didn’t ask why. He didn’t ask if Taehyung was alright.

Perhaps he didn’t care.

Or perhaps he didn’t know how to care anymore.

After all, wasn’t this a marriage arranged by their families?

Two people carrying the weight of their pasts, tied together by duty, not affection.

Jungkook stood and wiped his hands on his pants. "There’s barley porridge on the stove. Eat before it gets cold."

Without waiting for a reply, he picked up two bundles of firewood and carried them towards the cart resting near the gate.

Taehyung watched his retreating back, wondering if all their days would feel like this—distant, careful, like two shadows living under the same roof.

Slowly, Taehyung walked inside and approached the simple clay stove. The porridge was still warm. He ladled some into a wooden bowl, sat quietly at the table, and ate a spoonful by a slow spoonful.

The flavor was plain. No salt. No side dishes.

It filled his stomach, but not his heart.

As he ate, flickers of memory surfaced—his body's former owner…

A lonely Ger.

A poor life.

A first husband who died two winters ago from sickness.

No children left behind.

Taehyung exhaled slowly, setting the spoon down.

This house was not warm. It was not cruel either.

It was simply… empty.

After finishing his meal, he carefully washed the bowl in cold water from the clay jar outside. His movements were clumsy, his hands unused to these ancient routines. In his past life, everything had been fast—modern kitchens, clean water, electric stoves.

Here, every task was slow.

Every step required thought.

As the sun rose higher, Taehyung wandered the small yard.

He found a basket of mending cloth and old shirts near the laundry line.

Some had missing buttons, others were worn at the sleeves.

His fingers brushed the fabric softly.

He could sew. That much he remembered from the body's memories.

Maybe this could be a beginning.

A small, quiet step forward.

Without thinking, he sat down, threaded a needle, and began to carefully patch the torn cloth.

When Jungkook returned at midday, he paused at the sight. His eyes lingered for a second longer than usual.

“You don’t have to do that,” Jungkook said, setting down a sack of grain near the door.

Taehyung didn’t look up. “I want to.”

There was a silence, heavy but not uncomfortable.

Jungkook finally spoke, his voice softer than before. “If you need anything, the market is open tomorrow. I’ll take you.”

Taehyung glanced up. Their eyes met—just briefly.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

And that was it.

No long conversations.

No smiles.

Just two people sitting under the same roof, quietly trying to figure out where they belonged in this new, shared life.

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To be Continued

Bye

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