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CHAPTER XIV "Who are you? Cause you are not the girl I fell in love with."
Seoul, South korea, Gym , 09: 45 a.m.
JUNGKOOK STOOD BEFORE the punching bag, his body glistening with sweat as he delivered blow after blow with relentless fury. His fists pounded against the heavy bag, the sound of impact echoing through the empty room.
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Jungkook's boxing attire clung to his sweat-drenched body, accentuating the contours of his muscular frame as he moved with raw intensity. He wore a pair of black compression shorts that hugged his thighs, allowing for maximum mobility as he delivered each powerful strike.
His upper body was clad in a sleeveless black compression shirt, the fabric stretched taut over his sculpted chest and chiseled arms. Beads of sweat trickled down his glistening skin, tracing the lines of his defined muscles as they flexed and tensed with each movement.
On his hands, he wore black boxing gloves, their leather exterior worn and frayed from countless hours of training. Blood seeped from the knuckles, staining the fabric crimson as he relentlessly pounded the heavy bag.
His face was a portrait of determination, his jaw set in a steely resolve as he unleashed his pent-up fury upon the unsuspecting bag. Dark strands of hair clung to his forehead, plastered in place by sweat as he pushed himself to the brink of exhaustion.
In the corner of the room, Jimin watched with a heavy heart, his own body slick with sweat from a grueling workout. He had seen Jungkook's descent into madness, watched as his friend spiraled further and further into the abyss of his own despair.
"Jungkook," Jimin called out, his voice filled with concern. "You need to stop. This isn't helping."
But Jungkook ignored him, his focus consumed by the rhythmic thud of his fists against the bag. He had lost everything-Y/N, his love, his purpose-and now, all that remained was the hollow ache of emptiness.
