In the rustic villages of Rajasthan, where ancient customs weave the fabric of daily life, Taehyung's story unfolds-a tale of courage, love, and the power to defy destiny.
At seventeen, she was thrust into an arranged marriage with Jungkook, a stric...
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TIME SKIP TO 5 MONTHS....
The large clock on the wall ticked steadily, filling the quiet room with a rhythmic sound. The air carried the faint scent of aged paper and fresh ink, mingling with the cool breeze from the ceiling fan that spun lazily above. The dim glow of the table lamp illuminated the stack of official documents neatly arranged before Jungkook, casting soft shadows over his sharp features.
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Clad in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and a black waistcoat, Jungkook sat at his desk, scanning the official papers with the same stern expression he always wore. However, there was a subtle quietness in his eyes-a thought lingering in the back of his mind.
A soft knock interrupted his concentration.
Jk- Come in. (he said, his voice calm yet authoritative)
One of his officers entered, offering a crisp salute before stepping forward.
Officer- Collector Sahab, the proposal for the voluntary scheme regarding the minimum age of marriage for girls being set at sixteen has received approval from the higher authorities.
Jungkook glanced up from his papers, his gaze unwavering as he took the letter from the officer's hands. His fingers traced the embossed government seal before he flipped it open, his eyes scanning the contents.
After a moment of silence, he gave a firm nod.
Jk- Hmm. Make an announcement in the entire district. Ensure the benefits for families following the scheme are clearly highlighted.
The officer nodded.
Officer- Yes, sir. I will see to it right away.
Jungkook gestured for him to leave, returning his attention to his work.
An Hour Later;
Jungkook let out a deep breath, leaning back in his chair as he stretched his arms. His muscles ached from the long hours at his desk. His gaze flickered to his wristwatch-8:30 PM.
Shaking his head, he removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose before standing up. He grabbed his coat from the chair and slipped it on, adjusting the collar before walking out of his office.
As soon as he stepped outside, the crisp night air brushed against his face. The streets were quieter now, the usual daytime bustle replaced with the soft hum of distant voices and the occasional honk of a vehicle.
His driver, who had been waiting near the ambassador car, straightened upon seeing him and immediately opened the door.
Driver- Collector Sahab. (he greeted with a salute)
