[COMPLETED]
[Note: As Wattpad shuffled the chapters,
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Jungkook
“Natalia Elsher.”
I knew it. I knew it from the moment she told me the description about how she looks in real life and she had told me that she looks like a real life fairy with her long white hair. I guessed it right it was the girl Namjoon keeping with him and he rescued her a few months back, and still killing the people who had kidnapped her, more likely committed their nastiest sin as they're getting killed.
Anyways.
That's not the fact which is bothering me. What's bothering me is—how am I supposed to tell her that her sister forgot everything? She doesn’t remember anything and more likely she would never get back her memory ever again because of the internal brain damage she had gone through ten years ago when they both got kidnapped by the Italian men.
Damn, she would be so fucking frustrated when I'll tell her about it. This is the only reason why I stopped myself from telling her. I found out about her sister on the day she spilled everything and I contacted Namjoon. He provided all of the information about Natalia Elsher and also forbade me not to tell Liliana as it will hurt her. Namjoon is trying his best to cure her even though there's a huge risk that Natalia might forget about Namjoon forever.
“You love your sister so much.” I coax gently and her facial structure changes automatically. Her face gets sad and her shoulders drop. And I don't fucking like it at all. “She’s more likely a mother to me—” She places her palm over her chest as she continues, “Even though we're only two and half years apart, yet she treated me like her kid as we didn’t have our mother and our father was always busy.” She takes a big gulp, more likely swallowing her emotions so that she doesn’t cry.
I take her small wrist and drag her near the stool in front of the telescope. I take a seat on the stool and make her sit on my lap, facing me. She throws her hands around my neck and I start to ask questions. As I love to hear her voice. Slow, small, breathy and whispery. “Where’s your mother?” I ask and she sighs deeply. She takes my hand and begins to draw imaginary circles on my palm.
“She died at the time of giving birth to me.” She whispers which is barely audible. She pauses as she keeps drawing her imaginary circles on my palm. “I snatched her life too.” She adds after a long time later and my heart literally clenches tightly to hear the pain in her voice.
Placing my index and middle finger underneath her chin, I lift her face to stare. She's trying her best to control her emotions, however, it's not working. It wouldn’t work when it comes to me, I'm an expert reading her like an open book. She's telling herself not to cry and she’s gulping hard. Again and again.
