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Jungkook's pov

It's quiet during the drive, but my mind is racing with thoughts. The impulsive part of me questions, 'What are you doing, Jungkook? Who is she to you? Why are you helping her? Stop wasting your time.' Meanwhile, my moral guide, reassures me that I'm doing the right thing by helping, supporting, and taking responsibility like a gentleman.

Unsure which voice to follow, I decide to go with my mind since I never trust my heart. As I enter my house, silence greets me, my footsteps echoing in the empty hallways. Bam doesn't greet me, so I assume he's asleep. As I walk to the kitchen for a glass of water, I reflect on the satisfaction of helping but remind myself to be aware of the consequences.

I'm involved in a situation that could be shameful if discovered. I can avoid being implicated, but I'm not sure if Y/n can handle it. I could be selfish if I listened to my impulses, but my rational side steps in, guiding me to follow my mind without involving emotions. 'Do your part, Jeon Jungkook, and good things will come,' I tell myself.

After placing the half-empty glass on the counter, I head upstairs for a shower and bed. My mind refuses to shut down, replaying thoughts about work, investments, Bam's appointments, my checkups, and Y/n. She's probably asleep, overthinking, or relieved, while I stare at the ceiling until exhaustion finally takes over after a couple of hours.

;

The morning sun hasn't risen yet, but I'm awake before my alarm, likely due to Bam's squeaks and whines. "Bammie," I call softly to my Doberman, who looks at me with his puppy eyes. It's yoga time. I believe in shaping my life purposefully. Waking up at 5 a.m., I don't reach for my phone first thing, and I advise others against it.

It's a waste of time. Statistics show 62% of people reach for their phones first thing in the morning, and 44% do so after snoozing their alarms. I'm proud not to be one of them. I put on my yoga pants, roll out the mat, and sit down with Bam on his own mat. He may not do yoga perfectly, but he enjoys mimicking my stretches and trying new positions. It's our routine, and he loves weekends because I'm around more. Our 5 a.m. yoga sessions are calming, especially with the quiet streets waiting for the sunrise.

I start with basic positions, taking deep breaths as I stretch. Bam follows with his dog stretches, making me chuckle at his antics. We continue until the morning sunlight fully brightens the day. "Good start, I'll prepare your breakfast, come Bam." After rolling up the mats and placing them against the yoga room wall, I head to the kitchen. I prepare Bam's meal of fully cooked chicken and beef, adhering to the saying 'breakfast should be eaten like a king.'

Bam's breakfast is a high-protein meal with his favorite meats; he absolutely hates fish and won't eat it, even if I offer it. I respect his preferences and avoid getting fish for him, as his likes and tastes are very important to me.

For myself, I prepare a full English breakfast: two fried eggs, caramelized bacon, toasted bread, and a slice of avocado toast with a cup of tea. This is my Saturday morning ritual, and I never skip it. I usually eat lightly during the week, but weekends start with a hearty meal to fuel the days ahead. As I toss the bacon onto the plate and wait for Bam's beef to boil, I put two slices of multigrain bread into the toaster and grill a slice of baguette for my avocado toast.

Once Bam's protein is fully cooked, I let it cool before cutting it into pieces. I wrap the remaining meat in foil for his dinner, place his food in his bowl, and add a well-done egg on the side. "Bam, sit!" He obediently sits in his spot, and I place the bowl in front of him. He waits for my command, "Come on, eat!" I pat his head and return to the kitchen as my toast is ready. I don't usually sit at the dining table; the emptiness bothers me, so I lean against the counter, watching Bam enjoy his meal while I eat mine.

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