What if, when you missed every chance to confess your feelings to him. After college, you suddenly lost contact and started your career, locking your love in your heart for years.
Then, one day, fate brought you both back together, meeting him as y...
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As she spoke, my ears began to ring with a high-pitched, almost unbearable sound. My vision blurred, and a dense fog seemed to settle over my surroundings, as if I were standing alone in the biting cold of a winter night, isolated and shivering.
"Kiwi, are you alright?" Her panicked voice cut through the fog, reaching me with an urgent clarity. I nodded, though the movement felt mechanical and disconnected.
"He was in pain, Mom," I choked out, my voice shaking and faltering. "I wasn't there... He endured it all alone. He promised me he would share everything with me. So why? Why didn't he... Why didn't he reach out for me?" My words stumbled over themselves, caught in the vise of my pain.
"Accident, surgery, slim chances of survival — it means he was in so much pain... blood blood everywhere..." I screamed. She quickly enveloped me in her embrace, caressing me.
The thought of Jungkook, alone and suffering, trapped in a moment of unbearable pain, was more than I could bear. I imagined the scene vividly, his pain, visceral force that seemed to wrap itself around my own heart.
I could almost see the blood and the desperate look in his eyes, feeling the icy grip of fear and isolation he must have faced that time. My chest felt tight, constricted by the weight of his suffering, and each breath came with increasing difficulty as if my own chest was being squeezed by an unseen hand.
The imagined scene played over and over, a relentless loop of pain that felt as fresh and unbearable as if it had happened just moments ago. The heart-wrenching sense of his isolation and suffering left me gasping for breath.
"Kiwi, please," her voice was a soothing murmur against the chaos of my emotions. "It's been years. He is absolutely fine now..." She patted my back gently, her touch a fragile comfort as she tried to offer me a glass of water.
But I couldn't take it, the weight of her words and the emotional storm inside me rendered me incapable of even lifting the glass to my lips.
I didn't lose consciousness, but the rush of overwhelming emotion forced me to collapse to my knees. Mom's startled squeak of concern pierced through my distress. She quickly knelt beside me, grasping my hand and rubbing the back of it in a desperate attempt to calm me.
My face was streaked with tears, my sobs escaping in harsh, silent gasps. I managed to push myself up, squeezing her hand in a weak attempt to show that I am okay. My movements were shaky, my hands trembling uncontrollably.
I reached for my phone on the table with great effort, my fingers unsteady as I dialed Jungkook's number. The phone rang, but he didn't pick up. Mom's continuous murmurs of reassurance—that it was all in the past and that he is fine now—did little to quell the urgent need I felt to see him. I have to see him, right now.
