ONE
When the first light of dawn crept into the mansion, it spilled quietly through the tall glass windows…
Touching soft skin, brushing over messy dark hair, and resting gently on a boy asleep on the edge of a velvet mattress.
He didn’t wake with a start.
He opened his eyes slowly… almost fearfully.
As if the silence would break him before the sun could warm him.
There was no hand holding his.
No soft breath brushing against his neck.
No gentle hum of a sleepy voice calling him “Tae.”
Only coldness.
The kind that seeps into your bones when love starts fading… and you’re the only one left noticing.
The boy blinked again, turning his face toward the untouched side of the bed.
The pillow was still fluffed. The blanket barely wrinkled.
Like no one had laid there for a long time.
It’s been one month since he last felt a good morning kiss.
Since Jungkook last smiled at him like he meant it.
Since they last felt married.
The boy sat up, arms curling around his knees like he was still trying to protect something—maybe his heart.
The sunlight traced the delicate curve of his face, highlighting soft lips, thick lashes, and hollow eyes that carried too much for someone so young.
Kim Tae
Twenty-three.
Painter. Lover.
Husband.
He was only eight when he watched his mother die.
It was a rainy evening.
They were crossing a quiet road after art class. He was laughing—
It was the only time he smiled easily back then.
He didn’t see the car.
But she did.
She pushed him.
Hugged him tight.
Shielded him with everything she had—
And lost everything in return.
The last thing he remembers is her eyes.
Not fear.
Just love. Pure, endless, motherly love.
His father changed that night.
Maybe the grief ate him.
Maybe it was easier to blame the child than to carry the pain.
From that day, Taehyung became the ghost of the house.
Unseen. Unheard. Unloved.
His only relief was his older brother, Min Yoongi.
Yoongi never said much, but he always found a way to leave a warm meal near Taehyung’s door.
Or cover him with a blanket when he fell asleep on the floor.
But even Yoongi had limits.
Their father never liked to see love bloom again
Years passed.
Taehyung stopped expecting birthdays.
Stopped looking up when people called his name.
Stopped asking why he felt so invisible.
Instead, he painted.
He painted people he missed, warmth he craved, and homes he never had.
---
Then came Jeon Jungkook.
Business icon. Cold-eyed. Sharp-tongued.
Born with everything Taehyung never had—
And somehow, fate made their paths cross.
It wasn’t love.
It was a proposal. Arranged. Signed. Approved.
Jungkook’s parents wanted someone quiet, someone who wouldn’t talk too much or demand attention.
Someone pretty to match their image.
Someone obedient.
Taehyung fit the frame perfectly.
His father agreed.
Not out of care, but because marrying Taehyung off to a powerful name meant removing him permanently from his life
The wedding was beautiful.
The boy? Not so much.
BUT OUT THE WORLD KNOW THAT THE BESINUSS TYCOON MARRIED TO A MIDDLE-CLASS BOY...
For the first four months, Jungkook barely acknowledged him.
No eye contact. No warmth.
Taehyung ate dinner alone most nights, fingers tracing the tablecloth more than touching any food.
But slowly… the silence changed.
One night, Jungkook brought him a scarf, saying it was cold.
Another time, he waited at the door when Taehyung returned late.
Then came a hug. A kiss. A soft smile. A real conversation.
They grew.
Slowly. Painfully. Beautifully.
It wasn’t perfect.
But for the first time in Taehyung’s life—
It felt like home.
---
Until
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