My mummy . jjk

part 27

                     LAST CHAPTER

And as the door closed behind her, Jungkook stood there in the silence, the weight of the misunderstanding heavy on his chest. He had never felt so powerless, so helpless. All he could do now was hope that Y/N would one day again understand the truth—that he had never meant to hurt her again, he knows the he will lose himself again without her and that the love they had shared was still worth fighting for.
_____________________________________

                The Pain of Distance

The sun was setting over the city, painting the sky in soft shades of pink and orange, but Jungkook barely noticed. His hands trembled as he scrolled through his phone for the hundredth time, staring at a picture of Hanjoon, his five-year-old son, beaming with his tiny hand wrapped around Y/N’s finger. That picture was from a year ago, back when everything was perfect—or at least, he had thought so.

Now, it felt like another lifetime. Y/N had left him. Took Hanjoon with her. And it was all because of a misunderstanding.

Jungkook leaned back against the cold wall of their—no, *his*—empty apartment, still refusing to change anything in case Y/N came back. Every room still echoed with her presence, and Hanjoon’s toys were scattered as if the little boy had just gone out to play and would burst back in, calling for his dad.

But that wouldn’t happen. Not now.

It all started when Y/N saw . Them were from an collaboration partner of Jungkook’s, a female partner of work. They hadn’t meant anything to him, just casual conversation, but Y/N had seen them and jumped to conclusions. No amount of explaining had seemed to matter. She had thought he was cheating, betraying her trust, and in her heartbreak, she had packed her bags, grabbed Hanjoon, and left without looking back.

Jungkook remembered the last time he saw her. Her eyes were swollen with tears, face pale with a mixture of hurt and anger, while Hanjoon clung to her leg, not understanding what was happening but sensing the tension in the air. "Don’t," she had said, her voice barely above a whisper when he tried to stop her. "You don’t get to make this better with a few words, Jungkook."

He tried to speak, to plead, but the door slammed shut before he could make her understand.

That was six months ago.

Jungkook had lost count of how many times he had called her since then, each time praying that she’d pick up, or that Hanjoon would be the one to answer. But the calls went unanswered, and the messages remained unread. He had no idea where they were. Y/N had changed her number, blocked him on social media, and disappeared from his life.

He could still hear Hanjoon’s laughter in his head, the way his son would giggle uncontrollably when they played together. They had been inseparable. Jungkook had taken pride in being a hands-on dad, in being someone Hanjoon could look up to. Now, he couldn’t even be that. He couldn’t be there for his son when he needed him the most, all because of a misunderstanding that had spiraled out of control.

Jungkook slammed his fist against the wall in frustration, the pain grounding him, but it did nothing to numb the ache in his heart.

Every day without them felt like he was losing a part of himself. He had thrown himself into work at first, trying to distract himself, but it only made things worse. Everything felt hollow, every performance in work drained him because he wasn’t whole. His world had always been Y/N and Hanjoon, and without them, he didn’t know who he was anymore.

The nights were the worst. That’s when the memories hit the hardest. He would lie in their bed, the spot beside him cold and empty, and replay every moment in his mind. The way Y/N’s laughter had once filled the room, the way Hanjoon’s small feet would patter across the wooden floor as he ran to his parents’ bed in the middle of the night, asking to sleep between them.