Cold Daughter of Taekook

CDT 21

Jungkook's cough had grown worse over the past few weeks. It started out as nothing—a slight tickle in his throat, easily dismissed as fatigue from work. He'd been a model for years, adhering to strict diets and relentless schedules. But now, the tickle had transformed into something deeper, a constant ache in his chest. His body was betraying him, and even he, as careful as he had always been, could no longer ignore it.

He braced himself against the kitchen counter, trying to stifle another fit of coughing. His hands trembled as he reached for the glass of water, and in the moment he felt the world spin. Everything became a blur, the kitchen fading around him as his body crumpled to the ground, glass shattering somewhere nearby.

The sound of breaking glass sent Varisha sprinting down the staircase. "What happened?" Her heart pounded as she raced toward the noise, already fearing the worst. The maid's frantic voice echoed from the kitchen, "Madam! It's your mother—"

Her stomach dropped. She didn't wait for the rest. Her feet hit the kitchen floor hard, the world around her a blur until she found Jungkook—her mother—lying motionless on the cold tiles, his body collapsed in a heap.

"Eomma!" Varisha's voice cracked, rushing to his side. Her hands, shaking with fear, grasped his shoulders as she knelt. "Eomma, wake up!"

She barely registered the sound of footsteps behind her until Taehyung appeared, skidding to a halt. His voice broke through her panic, though it too was filled with terror, "Baby?.....What happened to him?"

Varisha shook her head, words failing her as she looked up at her father. Taehyung knelt beside her, his hands hovering over Jungkook's still form, uncertainty clouding his face. His composure, normally so firm and steady, was cracking right before her eyes.

"Call the ambulance!" he barked at the maid, his voice hoarse, his gaze never leaving Jungkook's pale face.

The ride to the hospital was suffocating, the air thick with tension. Varisha sat beside Jungkook, his hand cold and limp in hers. She couldn't tear her eyes away from him—his face was too pale, too lifeless, so different from the strong figure she had always admired. A wave of dread washed over her, but she swallowed it down. He's going to be fine, she repeated to herself. He has to be.

They reached the hospital in what felt like no time at all, and soon Jungkook was whisked away by nurses and doctors, leaving Taehyung and Varisha standing helplessly in the corridor. Taehyung's grip on her shoulder was the only thing that anchored her to reality.

Hours passed like centuries. Every passing second felt like the edge of a cliff, the silence of the waiting room deafening. Finally, the doctor came out, his face set in a grim line. Varisha's heart sank just from the look of him.

"He has a condition called anorexia nervosa," the doctor explained, looking between Varisha and Taehyung. "It's often seen in people who endure extreme diets and physical regimens. His body is suffering from malnutrition, and his immune system is severely compromised."

The words hit Varisha like a physical blow. Anorexia nervosa? She'd heard of it before, but never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that it could happen to Jungkook, her mother. He had always been so careful about his health, so disciplined. But now, as the doctor's words sank in, the reality of his condition became painfully clear.

"But he's going to recover, right?" she managed to ask, her voice weak, barely more than a whisper.

The doctor hesitated, a sign Varisha hated. "We've admitted him for immediate care, but it's going to take time. His body is under extreme stress, and recovery won't be quick."

In the hospital room, Jungkook looked smaller than Varisha had ever seen him. His once-glowing complexion was dull, his eyes sunken, and his body fragile. The sight of him lying so still in the bed, with machines beeping softly around him, sent a wave of pain through her heart. She quietly took a seat beside his bed, her hand wrapping around his, feeling the coldness that still lingered there.

"Eomma..." Varisha whispered. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

Jungkook's eyes fluttered open, weakly focusing on her. "Varisha," he murmured, his voice faint but filled with warmth. "I'm sorry, darling. I didn't want you to worry."

"Too late for that," Varisha choked out, her throat tight with emotion. "We've all been worried about you. You scared us."

Jungkook gave a weak smile. "I'm going to be fine. Just need a little rest." His voice cracked at the end, and Varisha could see the lie he was telling himself.

She held his hand tighter. "You better be. You promised you'd be there when I graduate, when I take over everything. You can't break that promise now."

Jungkook's tired eyes softened. "I'll be there, sweetheart. I promise."

The following days were grueling, not only for Jungkook but for the entire family. Varisha barely left the hospital, keeping vigil at her mother's side while Taehyung split his time between the hospital and work, trying to maintain some sense of normalcy for the girls. But nothing felt normal anymore.

Even Jungsoon, their youngest daughter at sixteen, had shifted from her usual carefree nature. She sat quietly in the hospital room, doing her homework or simply watching over Jungkook. One evening, after her classes, she walked in and found Varisha dozing off in the chair beside the bed. Jungsoon sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Jungkook's IV line, and whispered, "Eomma, how do you feel?"

Jungkook opened his eyes slowly and smiled at Jungsoon. "I'm better today, my little sunshine."

"You don't look better," Jungsoon said, frowning. "You need to come home already."

Jungkook chuckled weakly, his laughter turning into a cough. "Soon, sweetheart. I just need to get a little stronger."

Jungsoon bit her lip and leaned down, resting her head gently against Jungkook's chest. "I miss you at home, Eomma. It's not the same without you."

Varisha stirred, hearing her sister's soft voice. She opened her eyes to see Jungsoon curled up next to Jungkook, her hand resting gently on his chest. It made her heart ache in ways she couldn't describe.

Jungkook stroked Jungsoon's hair weakly. "I miss home too. But I'll be back before you know it."

Throughout the days and nights, Varisha stayed close, her heart burdened with the weight of everything. She spent hours by Jungkook's side, talking to him, helping him eat small portions of the prescribed meals, reading him his favorite novels, anything to distract them both from the looming reality of his condition. The moments she shared with her mother were quiet and tender, full of unspoken love and worry.

"You've always been so strong, Varisha," Jungkook whispered one night as Varisha sat beside him, his voice barely audible. "I need you to stay strong for me, okay?"

Varisha nodded, though tears stung her eyes. "I will, Eomma. I promise."

At home, the family tried to keep up appearances, but the house was quieter, the laughter that once filled their rooms was now replaced by tense silence. Taehyung didn't play the piano as often, and the girls found solace in their own routines. But even in their quiet moments, they could feel the void left by Jungkook's absence.

On the nights when Taehyung wasn't at the hospital, Varisha would hear him playing with the small pendant Jungkook had given him on their first anniversary, the sound of the delicate chain filling the otherwise empty room. She knew he was holding onto it, just as she was holding onto hope.

In the hospital, Varisha was there for her mother, every day, every moment, knowing that he needed her strength. But the truth was, she needed him too.

"I'll get better," Jungkook would say, his voice strained but hopeful, "and things will go back to normal."

And Varisha would smile, because she wanted to believe him. Because the alternative was too painful to consider.

In the quiet of the hospital room, where Varisha often sat through the nights, she never once let go of Jungkook's hand. He was the heart of their family, and no matter how fragile he seemed now, she held on to the hope that things would get better. They had to.
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Word Count: 1402
Date Written: 09/11/24
Date Published: 09/16/24
Author: Kheliyesh