Divorced Hearts | THV

Hold me Back

Taehyung's POV

The first thing I woke up to this morning was the warmth of sunlight falling directly on my face through the window. I scrunched my eyes, the intensity of brightness already brewing a headache at the back of my head. But once sleep left my eyes and my mind wasn’t fogged with dreams anymore, I realised that the side of the bed to my right wasn’t empty anymore.

Y/n lay a little away, her back facing me. She had gathered the blanket between her legs and managed to snuggle with it as much as she could. A smile made its way onto my lips at the sight. I was thankful for the chance she’d given me. I wanted to show her how important she was to me and to finally do everything I’d held myself back from doing before. Our marriage had faltered because of me, so now, with this second chance—a light of hope standing tall in front of me—I’d do anything to fix it all. To mend us.

I lifted myself up and rested my head on my hand. I lay there quietly, watching her body move with the rhythm of her calm breathing. The nearby wall clock showed seven in the morning. I took my phone from beside my pillow and kept it close to turn off the upcoming alarm at 7:15 a.m.

Yesterday’s emotional outburst had been draining. Now, I didn’t want to disrupt her much-needed sleep. Instead, an idea clicked in my mind, instantly causing me to get on my feet, leaving the bed and the sight reluctantly.

Soon, I found myself in the kitchen, skimming the fridge. “Bread, vegetables, and eggs.” On one hand, I held my phone close, reading out the ingredients to put together a quick toast and omelet along with a salad. Although my kitchen skills were almost null in comparison to my work skills, I believed I could manage this much.

I grabbed everything I’d need for breakfast and then moved on to get a pan, spatula, and knife. If things went south with the knife, at least we’d have the toast and eggs to save the day. That was the most positive I’d ever been about anything, and with that in my mind, I proceeded to take the first step in cooking: turn on the stove.

Within the next half-hour, I managed to finish the eggs without burning down the kitchen. I did get a few blisters on my hand, but they were worth it when I looked at my successful attempt at cooking for my wife. Well, 50% of it, at least. The toaster was there to save the day and handle the bread. My usual breakfast for the last few months had been a slice of toast, so this wasn’t much of a struggle.

I moved on to the salad, grabbing some tomatoes and cucumbers and taking them to the sink to wash them thoroughly. As I rinsed the veggies, my alarm buzzed, making me flinch at the sudden outburst of noise, shattering the silence of the apartment. A string of curses followed as I left the vegetables in the sink, water still running, and grabbed my phone on the table to turn off the alarm, even switching off my phone altogether.

After that sudden burst of adrenaline interrupted my peaceful attempt at cooking, I looked toward Y/n’s door. The silence that followed made me let out a relieved sigh, thinking the noise hadn’t reached her and woken her up.

I turned back, ready to resume cooking. I focused on washing the vegetables one by one, and soon it was time to cut them. I aligned the knife, ready to slice the cucumber, but just then, a voice called out my name, snapping me out of my concentration. I turned around immediately, recognizing the voice.

Y/n stood there, exhaustion still visible in her eyes, though she looked astonished. I glanced around the kitchen and confirmed that I hadn’t made much of a mess except for the pan, which I’d left in the sink to wash after rinsing off the vegetables. “What are you doing?” she asked, taking a few tentative steps closer, her eyes gradually falling on my hand holding the knife.