Should Be You | Jikook ✔️

Chapter 2

The sleek black car pulled up to the grand estate, its tires crunching softly against the gravel driveway. The babysitter sighed quietly as she glanced at Jungwoo through the rearview mirror. The little boy sat silently in the backseat, his small hands clasped neatly in his lap, eyes focused on the looming mansion before him. She knew better than to try to engage him in conversation—Jungwoo had been particularly quiet today, and she wasn’t about to break that silence.

As the car came to a stop, the butler, a tall man in a neatly pressed suit, stepped forward and opened the door for Jungwoo. The boy slid out of the car with a quiet "thank you," his voice barely audible as he stood on the gravel for a moment, adjusting the straps of his small backpack.

The babysitter nodded to the butler, who gave a brief, courteous smile before turning his attention to Jungwoo. “Welcome home, Master Jungwoo,” the butler said, his tone formal yet warm.

Jungwoo nodded in response, offering a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He moved with purpose, his small feet making soft tapping sounds against the marble floors as he entered the house. The grand foyer, with its high ceilings and elegant chandeliers, did little to brighten the boy’s mood as he made his way down the long hallway that led to his father’s office.

When he reached the heavy wooden door, Jungwoo hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering just above the polished surface. He could hear the low murmur of voices from inside, his father’s deep baritone blending with the softer tones of his mother. Jungwoo took a deep breath, steeling himself before he raised his tiny fist and knocked on the door.

There was a pause, followed by the familiar voice of his father. “Come in.”

Jungwoo pushed the door open, the hinges creaking slightly as he stepped into the room. His father was seated at his large mahogany desk, papers spread out before him. Across the room, his mother stood near the window, her back to him as she gazed out at the perfectly maintained gardens. The tension in the room was palpable, even to someone as young as Jungwoo.

The boy approached his father quietly, his small steps almost silent against the plush carpet. When he reached the desk, he tugged gently at his father’s tuxedo, looking up with wide, expectant eyes.

His father finally looked down, his stern features softening as he saw his son. “Ah, my son’s home,” he said with a faint smile, his voice warm as he reached down to lift Jungwoo into his lap.

Jungwoo settled into his father’s lap, feeling the familiar comfort of the man’s strong arms around him. Despite the coldness of the room, this moment with his father was one of the few times he felt truly safe.

His mother finally turned from the window, her expression unreadable as she walked over to where they sat. She leaned down, pinching Jungwoo’s cheek gently. “You’re home early today, Jungwoo,” she said, her tone light but distant.

Jungwoo looked up at her, searching her face for the warmth he often saw in the faces of his classmates’ mothers. But as always, he found none. “Yes, Mother,” he replied quietly.

His mother straightened, her gaze shifting to his father. There was an unspoken tension between them, one that Jungwoo couldn’t fully understand but could sense nonetheless. Even though he was only five years old, he had already noticed that his parents didn’t show each other the kind of love he saw in other families. There were no shared smiles, no tender touches—only polite exchanges, and distant conversations.

“I missed you, Dad,” Jungwoo said after a moment, his small voice breaking the silence that had settled over the room. He looked up at his father with wide, hopeful eyes, longing for a connection that often felt just out of reach.