silent symphony

40.

.

.

The room was eerily silent except for the faint sound of the air conditioner. Mr. Park stood near the window, his hands gripping the edge of the windowsill so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His heart was pounding in his chest, the sound of it echoing in his ears as his assistant entered the room with a sealed envelope in hand.

"The reports are here, sir," the assistant announced.

Mr. Park froze, Slowly, he turned around, his face pale and his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and fear. "It’s here?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His throat felt dry, and he struggled to get the words out. "Please… read it for me. I don’t have the courage."

The assistant nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. He carefully opened the envelope, Pulling out the papers, he scanned the contents quickly before clearing his throat.

"As you say, sir," he began.

Mr. Park’s heart felt like it was running a marathon, each beat faster than the last. His mind raced with possibilities, memories of the past flashing before his eyes. The day his son was taken, the endless search, the sleepless nights filled with guilt and longing—it all came rushing back like a tidal wave.

The assistant’s voice broke through his thoughts. "Sir," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "The report says… your DNA and Taehyung sir’s DNA match up to 98.99 percent."

Mr. Park’s breath hitched, his eyes widening as he stared at the assistant.

"He is your real son, sir," the assistant finished, his voice filled with emotion.

Mr. Park’s legs felt weak, and he stumbled back, finding support against the wall.

"My son…" he whispered,Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision as he leaned his head back against the wall. A mix of relief, joy, and anguish coursed through him, overwhelming in its intensity.

Mr. Park pushed himself off the wall, his hands trembling as he reached for the report.

"It’s true," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "After all these years… I’ve found him."

His mind raced with questions. How had Taehyung survived? What kind of life had he lived? And most importantly, how would he react to this revelation?

"Call your madam, let her know the good news.. " He ordered while wiping his tears.

"Prepare the car,"

"I need to see him. I need to see my son."

The assistant hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yes, sir. Right away."

As the assistant left the room, Mr. Park stood there, clutching the report to his chest. "Taehyung my little baby… I’m coming for you...your appa and eomma is coming for you"

Back in the university taehyung is enthusiastically doing his drawing where his classmates are making him giggle every time.

"Taehyung, how do you make it look so easy?" one of them asked, leaning over his shoulder to get a closer look.

Taehyung grinned, his boxy smile lighting up his face. "It’s not easy," He wrote on a paper,chuckling. "I’ve just had a lot of practice."

As he reached for a new color, his hand slipped, and a streak of bright blue paint smeared across his nose. He blinked in surprise, his classmates erupting into laughter.

"Taehyung, you’ve got something on your nose!" one of them exclaimed, pointing at him.

Before he could wipe it off, another classmate leaned over with a marker, a mischievous glint in their eyes. "Hold still," they said, stifling a giggle.