From Reluctance to Desire: A Mafia Story [JJK]

✨THE CALM BEFORE REVENGE✨

The days following that terrible discovery blurred into one long, painful time. I couldn't look at Jungkook without feeling a surge of hatred and betrayal. The man I had thought I could trust, the man who I thought had cared for me even if in his twisted way, had killed my father. Worse, he had done it without a second thought, without even considering what that would do to me.

Jungkook acted as if nothing had happened. He went about his days as usual, attending meetings, and dealing with business. He had this eerie calmness about him, a coldness that made my blood boil. Did he think I wouldn't find out? Or did he just not care if I did?

Each time I saw him, it took everything in me not to scream or lash out. Instead, I channeled my rage into silence. I refused to acknowledge him, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing just how much he had broken me. I spent most of my time in our room or anywhere he wasn't. The last thing I wanted was to be near him, to see that face that I had once thought was so full of promise, but now knew was full of lies.

One evening, as I sat by the window, staring blankly at the setting sun, I heard the door open. I didn't need to turn around to know it was Jungkook. His presence filled the room, a constant reminder of the betrayal and the blood on his hands.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Can we talk?"

I didn't respond. My gaze remained fixed on the horizon, my mind replaying the moment I had witnessed him pulling the trigger, my father's lifeless body falling to the ground. It was a scene that haunted me every second.

Jungkook took a tentative step closer. "I know you're upset," he continued, his tone gentle but careful. "I've been... distant, and I'm sorry for that. I just—"

I stood up abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. I couldn't stand to hear him try to justify himself, to act as if the problem was his neglect rather than his cruelty. I turned to face him, my eyes hard and unyielding.

His brows furrowed in confusion. "Y/N, what's wrong? Why won't you talk to me?"

The irony of his question was almost laughable. He was the one who had silenced me and stripped me of words with his actions. The love I thought was blossoming between us had been nothing but a facade, a cover for his schemes. He didn't deserve my words or my emotions. He didn't deserve anything from me anymore.

I pushed past him, my shoulder brushing against his as I left the room. The contact felt like fire against my skin, a burning reminder of everything he had done. He reached out as if to grab my arm, to stop me, but I wrenched it away, my eyes filled with venom as I glared at him.

"Y/N," he said, his voice carrying a hint of desperation now. "Just tell me what's going on."

I didn't give him the satisfaction of a response. I marched out, my footsteps echoing in the hallway as I put as much distance between us as possible. How dare he act as if he cared now? How dare he act like he didn't know what he had done?

In the living room, I paced back and forth, my heart pounding in my chest. The sheer audacity of him, to kill my father and then pretend like everything was normal. The hatred inside me grew with each passing moment, feeding on the pain and betrayal. I didn't know how I was going to do it yet, but I would make him pay. I would make him regret every single lie, every moment of manipulation, every drop of blood he had spilled.

I wanted him to feel the same emptiness, the same gut-wrenching loss that I felt. I wanted him to understand what it was like to have everything ripped away in an instant, to be left with nothing but the ashes of what could have been. And I would be the one to deliver that to him.

For now, my silence was my weapon. I would give him no clues, no warnings. I would let him live in his ignorance, thinking he still had some semblance of control. But when the time came, when he finally realized the depth of his mistake, it would be too late.

Jungkook had turned my world upside down and shattered the fragile hope I had held onto. And now, it was my turn to do the same to him.

As I moved through the house, a storm of emotions swirled within me. Jungkook was everywhere—his presence in every corner, every room. Just a few weeks ago, this place had felt like a sanctuary, a home where I was starting to build memories, however fragile they were. Now, it felt like a prison. Every step I took echoed with the reminder of his betrayal, of the lies he spun around me.

He killed my father. The words reverberated in my mind over and over, each repetition making my heart ache more. It was as if a knife had been driven into my chest, twisting every time I thought of his cold eyes staring down the barrel of the gun. I had loved him, or at least, I thought I had. Now, that love felt like a twisted joke, a cruel trick played on me while I was blinded by his charm, his touches, his words.

Revenge. The idea had been growing within me, festering and taking root. He needed to pay for what he did, for using me as a pawn in his twisted game. The thought of making him suffer the way I was suffering filled me with a sense of purpose, a dark, cold resolve that gave me the strength to push through the pain.

Jungkook tried to approach me, acting as though nothing had happened, as if he could fix what was broken between us with a few sweet words and a touch of his hand. But I was no longer the same woman who looked at him with stars in her eyes. I was someone different now, someone hardened by betrayal. I refused to speak to him, barely acknowledging his existence. The more he tried to bridge the growing chasm between us, the more I pulled away.

He must have noticed the change in me. How could he not? My once soft gaze was now ice-cold whenever it met his. My silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the heated arguments or passionate exchanges we once had. But what surprised me most was how little he reacted. He was cautious, almost as if he was testing the waters, trying to understand what was wrong without prying too deeply.

Every time he looked at me, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or perhaps suspicion. Did he know that I had seen him? Did he realize the extent of my knowledge? A part of me wanted to confront him, to scream at him, to tell him that I knew what kind of monster he truly was. But I held back. No, he wouldn't get the satisfaction of knowing how deeply he had hurt me. Not yet.

Instead, I channeled all my pain, and all my grief into a plan. It was the only way I could think to survive this. The hatred that burned inside me needed an outlet, and revenge seemed like the only thing that could cool the flames. I began to quietly gather information, piecing together what I knew about his business, his connections, and his weaknesses. If he thought I was just a naive woman to be used and discarded, he was going to learn how wrong he was.

Late at night, when the house was still and he was asleep, I would go through his things, searching for any clues that could help me understand the world he operated in. Files, notes, anything that could give me leverage. I was careful, and meticulous, ensuring that he wouldn't suspect a thing. I couldn't afford to make a mistake. Not now.

Jungkook still tried to get close, but every attempt was met with cold indifference. I could see the confusion in his eyes, the frustration growing as I continued to shut him out. He didn't know that I was watching him with a new perspective, analyzing his every move, waiting for the right moment to strike back. He had taken everything from me, and now, I was going to take everything from him.

I would make him regret ever using me, ever thinking that I was just a piece in his game. He would feel the same pain, the same betrayal. I promised myself that. And as I looked at him across the dinner table, his face a mask of composure, I couldn't help but wonder if he could sense the storm brewing within me. If he had any idea that the woman he was sitting across from was no longer the same woman who had once loved him.

No, this was not love anymore. This was war.