Unbinding Tradition

115. Language of silence 💖

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The morning sun had just begun spilling its golden hues over the haveli, painting the white stone walls in shades of warmth. Birds chirped restlessly on the old neem tree near the boundary wall, and the faint smell of wet earth wafted through the courtyard where the gardener had just finished watering the plants.

Yoon stepped out of the guestroom, the door creaking softly behind him. He stretched his arms above his head, the stiffness of the mattress still lingering in his spine. His shirt was loosely buttoned, his hair messily falling onto his forehead as he walked through the corridor lazily, seeking some fresh air.

His steps slowed as he reached the courtyard, the early sun kissing his skin gently. He squinted toward the sky, letting the warmth seep into him like a slow burn. The silence was peaceful-until it wasn't.

A sound floated down from above.

"Sawaaar loon... main sawar loon..."

Yoon's brows furrowed in confusion. He tilted his head slightly, catching onto the delicate rhythm of the song. The soft, melodic voice was oddly familiar. He followed the sound with his eyes until they landed on the terrace above the right wing of the residence.

And there she was.

Jiminee.

Her back was facing him; but he was sure she was the same girl who scolded her last night for smoking at her house.

Dressed in a simple pastel suit, her hair left open and adorned with tiny white flowers. Her voice was sweet, almost playful, as she sang out the words of the old song and mimicked the lyrics with hand gestures, not a soul in sight to watch her-or so she believed.

Yoon found himself still, eyes locked on the scene above him.

She looked entirely different from the storm that had raged against him the night before.

Just pure, unfiltered joy.

He didn't mean to smile, but he did.

Just slightly.

It wasn't the kind of smile that screamed amusement-it was quieter, almost... intrigued. She didn't look like a grown woman trained to be proper and poised. No. She looked like a girl in her own world, untouched by expectations, singing simply because her heart wanted to.

But before he could let his gaze linger longer, a sound of footsteps from behind broke his daze.

Yoon quickly turned his head away from the terrace, hands slipping into his pockets. His face returned to its usual neutral expression just as Jungkook stepped into the courtyard from the living room hallway.

Jungkook, dressed in a crisp white kurta-pajama, had a commanding presence even early in the morning. His expression, though calm, still carried the shadows of last night's fury-tight jaw, eyes focused ahead.

Yoon- Good morning, Sir. (he greeted, voice respectful and level)

Jungkook gave a slight nod, glancing at Yoon with his usual reserved air.