𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄 || 𝐉𝐉𝐊

chapter thirty-four

-#skiptime:[2 months later]:[y/n's pov]:

I stood outside the study, holding a tray of breakfast, as Jungkook's tense voice carried through the door. "That's not how you deal with such a situation ," he said over the phone.

This wasn't the first time I had seen him like this. For two months, he had been overworking, pulling all-nighters, and I had no idea what was going on with him and the company.

Not like I didn't try asking him but he never shared his concerns with me, instead always brushed me off with a 'nothing's wrong.'

But-I knew better.

My grip on the tray tightened as a sense of deja vu washed over me. I had seen this before-I had experienced such situations even before-The impatient voice, the arguments, the stress.

None of this was new. And it never failed to remind me of that one person-my father.

I had witnessed these before, where I had watched him work himself to the bones, yet hide his worries behind a mask of calm for my mother's and my sake.

And Jungkook's behavior was eerily familiar, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease build inside me.

I couldn't comprehend why but none of these....felt right. Not at all.

My eyes drifted down to the tray in my hands, my brow furrowed in concern as I stood frozen for a few moments.

I know Jeon Corporation's reputation as a top-leading company has always been unwavering, and Jungkook's business acumen was unshakeable. But despite knowing all these, why was a sense of unease gnawing at my gut? I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

Lost in thought, I was startled by a loud crash. My eyes widened in shock as I realized the noise came from inside the study.

Jungkook?!

My heart skipped a beat as I pushed open the door, and the scene before me made my blood run cold. Jungkook stood at a distance motionless, his back facing towards me, his hands gripping the chair as if it was his lifeline. His head hung low, in that moment....defeat etched in every line of his body.

My gaze followed the trajectory of his gaze to the floor, where his phone lay shattered, its screen cracked and dark. The air had turned heavier with tension, and I could feel the weight of his frustration, his anger, and his desperation.

As if hearing the sound of the door creak opening, he slowly turned around, his gaze now shifted towards me. The moment his gaze landed on me, his eyes widened ever so slightly before he regained his composure.

A soft, gentle smile spread across his face as he approached me, like nothing ever happened. His hands cradled my face with a tenderness that belied the turmoil I had witnessed just a few moments before.

"What brings you here?" he asked, his voice low and soothing, but I remained silent, my expression was a mask of stone, no emotions at all.

I searched his eyes, trying to understand the emotions he had kept hidden, but as always, he was a puzzle I couldn't solve. Couldn't understand what was going on inside him at all.

As if sensing my unease, he asked, "What's wrong, love?" his brow furrowed in concern. "Shouldn't I be the one asking this?"

I averted my gaze, my eyes drifting down to the floor, where the shattered phone lay like a proof to his frustration. Even his gaze followed mine, and his expression faltered for a moment, before he regained his calm demeanor.

"That-" His voice trailed off, and I met his gaze, expecting a genuine explanation. But instead, he hesitated, and I sensed the familiar evasion.

"It was just a workload. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" The words hung in the air, an incomplete apology that left me unsatisfied.