𝐌𝐘 𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 ✔

s i x

It had been two months since Jungkook and I started our marriage, even though I still wasn't fully prepared. Our days fell into a routine of quiet habits and cautious talks. Our apartment became a safe place for me, a calm spot in the midst of my swirling feelings.

One evening, as I sifted through the mail, a particular envelope caught my attention. It was simple and unassuming, yet its contents would unravel a wave of conflicting emotions I wasn't prepared to face.

Inside were two plane tickets to Mauritius and a letter, neatly folded. My heart sank as I read the familiar handwriting—the delicate curves and precise loops of my mother's penmanship. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks—these tickets were for Jungkook and me, a gift from our families for our honeymoon.

I sat down heavily on the couch, the letter trembling slightly in my hands. How could she assume I was ready for something like this? How could anyone think that a mere arrangement of convenience could blossom into love?

The words on the letter blurred as tears welled up in my eyes. My mother's gentle reminders of love and commitment felt like a cruel joke, mocking the reality of my situation. I couldn't bring myself to read the entire letter, folding it back carefully and placing it on the coffee table with the tickets.

When Jungkook arrived home later that evening, he found me in the kitchen, mechanically preparing dinner. His footsteps echoed in the quiet apartment, and I braced myself for the unavoidable conversation.

"Jisoo," he started cautiously, his voice breaking through the silence. "I found something on the table. Tickets... for Mauritius?"

I turned to face him, my expression guarded. "Yeah," I replied simply, my voice devoid of emotion.

He approached slowly, his eyes searching mine. "It's... for our honeymoon, isn't it?"

I nodded silently, averting my gaze. How could I explain the flood of emotions raging inside me? How could I make him understand that this gesture, well-intentioned as it was, only served to highlight the gaping chasm between us?

Jungkook sighed softly, a mixture of concern and uncertainty clouding his features. "Jisoo," he began tentatively, "are you okay?"

I continued stirring the pot on the stove, the rhythmic motion providing a feeble distraction. "I don't know," I admitted quietly, finally meeting his gaze.

He stepped closer, his presence a comforting warmth beside me. "I know this is... unexpected," he said carefully. "But maybe... it could be a chance for us to... I don't know, get to know each other better?"

His words lingered, filled with hope and expectations he didn't say out loud. I wanted to trust him, to think that Mauritius could be more than just another part of our marriage that neither of us really wanted. But deep down, I knew the truth: I didn't love him, and even a beautiful place like Mauritius couldn't change that.

"I appreciate the gesture," I said finally, my voice tinged with resignation. "But I don't think a honeymoon will solve anything."

Jungkook nodded slowly, his expression clouded with disappointment. "I understand," he murmured. "I just... wanted to make things easier for us."

I sighed, my shoulders sinking with exhaustion. "I know," I replied softly. "But this... it's not what I need right now."

We stood quietly for a moment, feeling the heaviness of things we didn't say. Jungkook reached out slowly and placed his hand gently on my shoulder. It was a brief comfort, reminding me that despite our differences, we were facing this together.

"I'm here for you, Jisoo," he said earnestly, his voice filled with sincerity. "Whatever you decide."

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes once more, a mixture of gratitude and sadness washing over me. "Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Jungkook pulled me into a hesitant embrace, his arms wrapping around me gently. For a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to lean into his warmth, finding solace in the silent understanding that passed between us.

As we stood together in the kitchen, wrapped in a peaceful moment, I started to see a glimmer of hope. Maybe, despite all the confusion and pain, we could find a path ahead. It wouldn't need big gestures or fancy trips. Instead, it might come from these small, quiet moments of closeness and understanding that were slowly bringing us closer together.

The tickets to Mauritius stayed on the coffee table, reminding us of the choices we hadn't made and the obstacles we still faced. Yet in our calm kitchen, I felt a bit of peace. It was like a delicate starting point for us to create something fresh and ours, step by step.