Brother's Keeper || kim namjoon

ch 34: village

1 WEEK LATER

It had been a week since Namjoon and I last saw each other and exchanged words.

At that time, I found solace in attending my college classes and immersing myself in the lectures and coursework. I'd spend evenings with friends, revisiting places Namjoon and I once shared laughter and dreams.

Amidst the routine, a glimmer of accomplishment brightened my days. I aced a challenging test, earning a grade that validated my hard work. Despite these victories, thoughts of Namjoon lingered. The desire to reach out tugged at my heart, but my mother's words echoed in my mind:

"If Namjoon wants to be with you, he'll find a way."

Returning home, the familiar tension awaited. Hoseok, my brother, confronted me, his disapproval evident. "Jiah, you must stop dwelling on Namjoon. It's not healthy," he scolded, frustration etched on his face.

I stood my ground, remembering my mother's advice. "Love has no boundaries, Hoseok. If Namjoon and I are meant to be, it will happen."

Hoseok scoffed, "You're being naïve. You're setting yourself up for disappointment. Move on."

Determined, I declared, "I won't give up on what my heart desires. If Namjoon feels the same, he'll come around."

Our verbal spar escalated, reaching a breaking point. Tension hung thick in the air as I summoned the courage to reveal my true feelings. "I'm not just holding on, Hoseok. I have feelings for Namjoon. It's the truth, and there's nothing you can do to change that."

His eyes widened, a mixture of shock and anger painting his expression. "Namjoon? Jiah? Of all people, him?"

Defiance fueled my words. "Yes, him. My heart chose him, not you or anyone else. I won't apologize for that."

Hoseok's frustration erupted into disbelief. "You're jeopardizing our relationship for some fantasy! Namjoon is my best friend. You can't complicate things like this."

"I won't let fear dictate my heart," I retorted. "Love is complicated, and it doesn't follow a set of rules. I can't deny what I feel, and I won't hide it."

With my confession hanging in the air, I stormed upstairs to my bedroom, feeling a mix of relief and uncertainty. Rather than tears, a sense of liberation washed over me. I had faced Hoseok, stood up for my feelings, and refused to suppress them any longer.

In the silence of my room, my thoughts returned to Namjoon. I grappled with the fear that perhaps I had jeopardized not only my relationship with Hoseok but also any chance with Namjoon. Yet, a flicker of hope remained – the belief that honesty and authenticity would pave the way for the future.

In the late afternoon, I decided to escape to the place where comfort wrapped around me like a familiar embrace—the place I loved the most. Draped in a flowery dress, I approached my father, asking to borrow the car for an undisclosed destination. He handed me the keys with a quizzical look, and with a grateful smile, I embarked on my journey.

The engine hummed beneath me as I drove towards my sanctuary, the Bukchon Hanok Village. The rhythmic sound of tires on the pavement was the prelude to the tranquility that awaited me. The car meandered through the streets, carrying me to a world frozen in time. As I arrived, the rustic charm of Bukchon Hanok Village unfolded before me, a tapestry of tradition and history.

Stepping out of the car, I took a moment to appreciate the cool breeze, gently playing with the hem of my flowery dress. I strolled through the narrow lanes, each step a dance with nostalgia. The air was imbued with the scent of ancient wood and the distant echoes of a bygone era.

As I wandered, I fell in love anew with the village, a love that had deepened with each visit. The houses, or hanoks, stood proudly, a testament to the enduring beauty of traditional Korean architecture. The curved roofs, intricate wooden lattices, and graceful eaves spoke of a heritage etched in every grain of wood.

I found myself captivated by the colors that adorned the hanoks—earthy browns, serene blues, and muted greens. Each hue whispered stories of families and generations, of lives interwoven with the timeworn bricks and wooden beams. It was a living museum, where history breathed through the very pores of the village.

As I continued my exploration, I wasn't alone in my admiration. Other wanderers, like me, traversed the cobbled streets, their eyes reflecting the same wonder and reverence. We exchanged nods, acknowledging the silent camaraderie of individuals united by a shared appreciation for the past.

Standing in a quiet spot, surrounded by ancient houses, I felt an indescribable sense of peace. The world outside evaporated, leaving only the whispers of history echoing in my ears. It was at that moment, as I gazed at the weathered structures, that a gentle tap on my shoulder jolted me back to the present.

Turning around, I was met with disbelief as I locked eyes with the person I least expected. There, in the heart of Bukchon Hanok Village, stood someone from my past. A friend or perhaps a forgotten acquaintance, their presence added an unexpected twist to my solitary sojourn.

The world, with its ancient charm and hidden surprises, had woven a tale that I could not have foreseen.

I just stood there, staring at them. Thoughts raced through my mind. A part of me demanded answers from them. However, I wasn't mad or upset. Weird.

Words were at the time of my mouth. I wanted to say something but it's like something kept holding me back. I decided to stay silent until they had the guts to speak up.

"Hello, mi amor."