You Never Know [JIKOOK]

46. Memories

"Is Jimin already here?” Mrs. Park asked weakly, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes searching for Taehyung's face for reassurance. Hope flickered in her gaze like a candle struggling against the wind.

Taehyung hesitated, the weight of his own feelings pressing down on him. He placed the spoon down gently, the sound soft against the quiet room, and set the steaming bowl of soup on the nightstand with deliberate care. “H-he said he needs more time, Ma,” he replied, his voice faltering slightly, betraying the lie he knew was hurting them both.

Mrs. Park's expression fell, her shoulders slumping as if the air had been sucked from the room. It had been ten long days since Jimin had gone missing, and doubt crept into her heart like a shadow. She felt a familiar ache—a mother’s instinct telling her that something was off, that Taehyung's reassurances were merely a fragile facade.

"But for now, you need to recover fast, okay?” Taehyung tried to muster a smile, his heart heavy as he looked into her tired eyes. “Jimin and Minju need you, Ma.” As he spoke, his voice cracked, and he couldn't stop the tears from spilling over, warm trails down his cheeks. “We need you.”

Mrs. Park managed a weak smile in return, though it barely reached her eyes. "Don’t cry, Taehyung,” she whispered, her heart aching at the sight of Taehyung's tears.

"Then please don’t make us worried,” he said, his voice rising with urgency. "You’re not eating properly since Jimin left.” He furiously wiped his tears, frustration mingling with concern. “How would you recover fast when you always do that?” His tone was soft but firm, like a gentle reminder wrapped in love, trying to urge her to fight for herself and for them.

Mrs. Park averted her gaze, avoiding the intensity of his stare, feeling the weight of his words settled heavily in the room. "You really look like Jimin, you know?” she said, attempting to lighten the mood, a hint of nostalgia playing on her lips. “And Minju also looks like Jimin.”

Taehyung stayed silent, allowing her words to wash over him. He remembered the way Jimin’s laughter could fill any space with warmth, how his presence was like sunlight breaking through the clouds.

"That day, I was cooking for dinner,” she continued, her voice softening as memories flooded back. “You and Jimin were still at work, so Minju and I were the only two left in this apartment.” A smile crept across her face as she recalled the moment. “I was cutting onions when I accidentally cut my finger.”

FLASHBACK

"Ouch!” Mrs. Park hissed, pressing the wound with her other fingers, the sting sharp and unwelcome.

"Ma? What happened?” Minju, with his small frame and big, round eyes, stopped playing with his toys on the wooden floor, a concern written all over his face as he walked toward her.

She turned to him, trying to hide her pain behind a chuckle. “It’s nothing. I just cut my finger,” she said, brushing it off as if it were an everyday occurrence.

Minju’s eyes widened at her words, pure worry etching his small features. Without hesitation, he placed his robot on the counter and raced toward the dining area. To her surprise, he tugged at a chair, struggling to maneuver it across the floor.

"Whoa, careful! You might fall!” Mrs. Park called out, her voice laced with concern as she watched him.

But Minju was determined, climbing onto the chair with a serious look of concentration. “Your finger, Mom,” he said, his voice tiny yet resolute.

Confused, she extended her hand to him, unsure of what he had in mind.

With small, careful grips, he guided her hand under the faucet. Then he looked up at her, his doe eyes wide and innocent. “What?” she asked, her heart melting at his adorableness.