Amore Vendetta (Taekook)

First step to healing

Ignore the mistakes 🙏🏻

The next morning, Namjoon arrived at the Kim Mansion earlier than usual, finding Mr. Kim already waiting in the living room. The casual greetings were quickly set aside as Mr. Kim cut to the chase.

"Did you get it?" Mr. Kim's eyes focused intently on Namjoon, his urgency apparent.

"Yes, sir. This file has the complete data of the psychologist," Namjoon replied, handing over the file with a professional demeanor.

"Thanks, Namjoon. I'll have it read, and then I'll let you know. And apologies for calling you so early," Mr. Kim said, his attention now absorbed by the contents of the file.

"No worries, sir. It's my duty," Namjoon responded, offering a soft smile, though beneath the surface, his anger simmered.

"You may go now. I'll call you—-"

"Can I see Taehyung? I couldn't sleep the whole night out of concern," Namjoon interrupted, his genuine worry palpable.

"He's no better. And he's sleeping," Mr. Kim admitted, unintentionally keeping Namjoon at arm's length from Taehyung.

"I just wanted to see him. If you don't want me—"

"That's not the case. It's just that he slept hardly; I just don't want to wake him up," Mr. Kim explained, revealing a protective instinct over his son.

"I understand. Alright then, I'll be taking my leave then." Namjoon turned on his heels, his departure marked by unspoken tension.

Outside, Namjoon wasted no time and sent a quick text to Jungkook. "Kim's not letting anyone close to his son, but I'll send you his picture when I come back."

"That fucker thinks he's so smart! I'll see what he can do," Jungkook's swift response conveyed an underlying determination.

"Calm down. The damage you've done is deep; his precautions can't do shit," Namjoon typed back, walking away with a sense of urgency.

Meanwhile, inside the mansion, Mr. Kim, still holding the open file of Dr. Su-raung, a renowned psychologist, was engrossed in a phone call.

"Yes, I have the file. I want you to discover and reconfirm each and every detail. Visit his home if you have to. I'll be emailing you the file," Mr. Kim instructed, his tone commanding as he prepared to dig deeper into the psychologist's background.

Ending the call, Mr. Kim, driven by an undercurrent of determination, walked back to Taehyung's room, his subconscious navigating the path to unravel the complexities surrounding his son's well-being.

Mr. Kim, holding the weight of the psychologist's file in his hands, entered Taehyung's room. The soft hum of medical equipment provided an ambient backdrop to the otherwise somber atmosphere. His eyes were immediately drawn to Taehyung, who lay still in a restless sleep.

Gently taking a seat beside his son, Mr. Kim observed Taehyung's fragile form. His breath caught at the sight of the pale, weary face, lines of distress etched upon it. "Taehyungie," he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if afraid to disturb the fragile peace of his son's slumber.

The dim light in the room cast a melancholic glow on Taehyung's features, emphasizing the vulnerability of his state. Mr. Kim's hand reached out, hesitating before softly brushing against Taehyung's forehead. The touch was an anchor, a silent promise that he would weather the storm alongside his son.

As Mr. Kim sat there, his gaze never strayed from Taehyung. The weight of concern bore heavily on his shoulders, and he found solace in the rhythmic rise and fall of his son's chest. "You're so strong, Taehyungie," he murmured, his words a tender acknowledgment of the battles his son fought, both seen and unseen.