Anger never builds; it only tears down. In the heat of a single moment, it can feel like strength, an armor to hide behind. But when the fire fades, all that's left are the ashes of what once mattered. Anger doesn't solve anything-it devours patienc...
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If somebody hurts you, it’s okay to cry a river, just remember to build a bridge and get over it.
Chapter 02: Bad News
Taehyung sprinted down the street, his lungs burning with every step. By the time he reached the small neighborhood where his home stood, his chest was heaving, his shirt clinging to his back with sweat.
There were people gathered outside, huddled in whispers, their faces pale with the kind of fear that only came after tragedy. Neighbors, strangers—he couldn’t tell. All he heard was the murmur of words carried on the evening air: blood… gunshot… the woman in the house.
He ignored them. His mind refused to connect the dots.
He shoved past the small crowd and burst through his front door.
The world seemed to stop.
There, sprawled on the floor near the entrance, lay his mother. Her body was limp, her hair fanned out, her blouse soaked in a deep, spreading crimson.
“...Eomma.”
It was the only word that escaped his mouth, trembling and fragile. His vision blurred instantly, as though his mind refused to process what his eyes were forcing him to see.
He staggered forward, every step unsteady, and then he collapsed to his knees beside her.
“Eomma!” The word broke into a sob this time as he lifted her carefully onto his lap, cradling her as though that fragile warmth could somehow return.
Her skin was already cold. Her breaths shallow, ragged, barely there.
She tried to speak—her lips moving, broken sounds escaping, the faintest attempt at a word. “J-Ju…”
“No, no, no, don’t talk,” Taehyung whispered frantically, brushing hair from her face with trembling fingers. His voice cracked with desperation. “The ambulance is coming, Eomma. Just hold on, okay? Just wait, please.”
His whole body shook. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know who to call, didn’t know if he was dreaming or trapped in some twisted nightmare. None of it made sense. Why her? Why now? Who would do this?
And then—her lips parted again. Weak. Barely audible.
“J… Jung… kook.”
Taehyung froze. The name carved itself into his memory instantly. He had heard it before. He knew it. But now—it was being spoken as her last word, drenched in pain.
“Who?!” he gasped, his voice cracking. “Eomma, what about Jungkook? Did he—did he do this to you? Tell me, please, what do you mean?!”
But her eyes fluttered shut before he could get an answer.
The sound of hurried footsteps broke through his panic. Paramedics rushed inside, pushing a stretcher.
“Please move aside!” one of them barked.
Taehyung stumbled backward, still clutching his blood-stained hands to his chest. He watched helplessly as they lifted his mother with practiced urgency, strapping her down, pressing gauze to her wound. The air filled with sharp commands, the metallic click of medical equipment, the rolling of the stretcher wheels.
He scrambled after them, grabbing her hand again before they could load her into the ambulance. “Eomma, stay with me! Please, you can’t leave me. Not like this.”
“Sir, you need to let go,” a medic said firmly, prying his fingers off.
“No—I’m coming with her!” Taehyung insisted, his voice breaking.
The medic gave a curt nod, and Taehyung climbed in, pressing himself into the corner of the ambulance. His tears streamed freely now, his whole body shaking as the siren wailed to life.
“Please, drive faster,” he begged through sobs, as if speed alone could outrun death.
The ride was a blur of flashing red lights, beeping monitors, and the shallow wheeze of his mother’s fading breaths.
At the hospital, the doors burst open as soon as the ambulance screeched to a halt. Doctors and nurses swarmed, voices overlapping in hurried instructions.
Taehyung reached out, his grip tightening on his mother’s hand, refusing to let go.
“Wait here outside,” a nurse told him, blocking his path.
“No, I can’t—please, let me stay with her!”
“Sir, we need space. We’ll do everything we can. Please.”
Her words were gentle but unyielding. The doors to the emergency room swung shut, leaving Taehyung alone in the fluorescent-lit hallway.
He collapsed against the wall, his legs no longer able to carry him. The sterile smell of disinfectant clawed at his throat, making it harder to breathe. His vision blurred again as tears fell unchecked, his sobs echoing softly down the empty corridor.
She’s all I have. She’s my only family. Please, don’t take her away from me…
Time seemed to stretch endlessly. Seconds felt like hours. Every tick of the clock above the emergency room door was a dagger pressing deeper into his chest.
Meanwhile, across the city, Jungkook sat in the café where they had agreed to meet. He had been there for hours, his untouched cup of coffee long since gone cold. His fingers tapped restlessly against the wooden table, his knee bouncing nonstop.
“Pick up, Eomma… please, pick up,” he muttered, redialing her number for what must have been the tenth time.
Instead of her voice, the automated tone answered:
“The number you have dialed cannot be reached. Please try again later.”
He gritted his teeth, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Something was wrong—he could feel it in his bones.
His phone buzzed. Relief shot through him—until he saw the name. Not her.
“Hyung,” he sighed, answering. “Why are you calling?”
“Jungkook, where the hell are you?” Jin’s voice was sharp with worry. “You’re supposed to be in a meeting right now. This deal is crucial. Mr. Kwak is waiting.”
“Can you represent me? Please? Just this once. I can’t leave right now,” Jungkook muttered, rubbing his temple.
“You can’t skip this. You’re the CEO. They want you. Do you understand what’s at stake? If you don’t show up, everything you’ve been working for could crumble.”
Jungkook closed his eyes, his chest tightening. Two battles. Two wars. One for his company. One for the only person he called “mother.”
“I know, Hyung. But this… this is important too. I can’t lose this.”
“You’ve already been gone four hours, Jungkook!” Jin snapped. “You can’t gamble everything on a ghost of the past. If you lose this deal, you’ll never get justice.”
Jungkook stayed silent for a long moment, then exhaled in defeat. “…Fine. Tell them I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
He hung up, staring at his phone screen. The message from her was still there. The address she had sent. But she hadn’t come.
