The murmurs in the wedding hall refused to die down. Every whisper seemed to stab Jungkook deeper, their voices crawling under his skin.
"The bride ran away…"
"Poor boy, crippled and abandoned…"
"His aunt will surely find a match… her daughter, perhaps."
Jungkook’s grip on the armrest of his wheelchair tightened until his knuckles turned white. His pride—once untouchable—lay shattered on the polished marble floor.
Jungkook
(coldly, to his aunt) You must be happy now. The humiliation is complete.
Jungkook's aunt
(fake concern) Oh, Jungkook… don’t say that. She wasn’t worthy of you anyway.
Jungkook's aunt
But fate works in strange ways. Perhaps this is a chance for a better bride.
Jungkook
Your daughter, you mean.(bitter laugh)
Jungkook's aunt
(smiling sweetly, voice dripping poison) Would that be so bad? At least she wouldn’t run away like Sarah.
He had been left broken, and now even betrayed.
The door slammed open. A tall man strode in, dark hair falling over sharp eyes, voice cutting through the tension.
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