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I stood in the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling eggs filling the air. I wanted to create a sense of normalcy, to wipe away the shadows of the night before.
As I whisked the eggs, I couldn’t shake the weight of my actions from my mind, but I pushed it aside. Today was for her.
I plated the food carefully, adding a sprig of parsley for color. My heart raced with anticipation, hoping to bring a smile to her face.
When I entered her room, I paused at the sight of her still sleeping, her brows furrowed in a frown.
She looked fragile, haunted by the nightmares that had disturbed her rest. I set the breakfast on the nightstand and gently shook her shoulder.
“Sweetheart, wake up. I made breakfast,” I said softly.
Her eyes fluttered open, confusion flickering across her face. The remnants of fear were still etched in her features.
I swallowed hard, feeling a pang of regret for the turmoil I had caused.
“Jungkook?” she murmured, her voice trembling slightly.
“It's me. I thought you might like something warm to eat,” I replied, my tone as soothing as I could muster.
“I even made your favorite.”
She sat up slowly, her gaze drifting to the breakfast spread. The tension in her shoulders eased just a fraction, but I could still see the shadows lingering in her eyes.
“It looks... nice,” she said, uncertainty lacing her words.
“Just nice? I was aiming for amazing,” I teased, attempting to lighten the mood.
“I may not be a chef, but I do have some skills in the kitchen.”
A faint smile tugged at her lips, and I felt a spark of hope. “You really didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to,” I insisted.
“You deserve to start your day with something good. Now, eat up!”
