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~~~♡~~~
•°•✿────✿•°• 𝕃𝔼𝔼 𝔸ℝ𝔸 •°•✿────✿•°•
"Oh my God, Jungkook—” Jungkook’s mother sucked in a sharp breath as he carefully helped me settle into his bed, adjusting the pillows behind my back with practiced gentleness.
“I know, Maa,” he said softly, his hand never leaving my arm. “But Ara’s fine. She’s here. She’s okay.”
His fingers brushed through my hair in slow, reassuring strokes as he helped me sit up slightly— only to be stopped immediately.
“No, no, dear,” Mrs. Jeon said, moving closer at once. “Lie down. You shouldn’t strain yourself.”
She sat beside me, her presence calm and grounding. I managed a faint smile.
Jungkook passed me a glass of water, holding it steady while I drank. “Thank you,” I whispered, my throat dry.
Mrs. Jeon took the glass from my trembling fingers and placed it on the bedside table, her touch careful, almost maternal.
She was beautiful— effortlessly elegant in a crisp white shirt and silver checkered pants. Diamond earrings caught the light every time she moved.
Looking at her, it was impossible not to see Jungkook... the same eyes, the same warmth, the same brightening smile that made you feel enlightened.
“I know this might be an odd question,” she said quietly, her voice soothing, “but how are you feeling, Ara?”
Something about her tone... soft, genuine felt achingly familiar, like my mother’s voice on nights I stayed up too late and she asked me the same question.
“I… I feel okay, Aunty.” My eyes drifted to her son without meaning to. Jungkook noticed instantly, his shoulders stiffening as if bracing himself.
“Jungkook—and the other boys,” I continued, my voice wavering, “they’re the reason I’m still alive.”
The words lodged in my throat.
My fingers curled into the blanket as unwanted memories pressed in. I swallowed hard, but the ache didn’t fade.
“Don’t,” Mrs. Jeon said at once, cupping my cheek. Her thumb brushed away the tear I hadn’t realized had slipped out. “Don’t say that, hmm? You’re here because you’re strong.”
She patted my head gently, her touch full of quiet love. For a fleeting second, I wanted time to stop right there.
“Thank you, Aunty,” I murmured.
She smiled but then her expression shifted, turning careful, hesitant. My chest tightened.
