[ complete ] 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀'𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄 || 𝐉.𝐉𝐊 𝐅𝐅

51. i still love him.

Y/n's Perspective —

I was in the kitchen, standing barefoot on the cold marble floor, stirring the pot mindlessly, the silence in the mansion making everything feel like it was holding its breath. My stomach growled softly, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since morning.

Everything had felt heavy ever since that night. The night I thought I saw death. The night I almost lost him.

Even now, when I closed my eyes, I could still hear the crack of glass, the thud of his body, the metallic scent of blood pooling far too quickly.

But it wasn’t just that.

It was what I was hiding.

The secret tucked inside a pink file. A file I stupidly left in the cupboard—the same cupboard Jungkook had been tearing apart last night looking for his old gun parts or… hell, who knows what.

I froze mid-stir.

Shit.

My eyes widened. The file. The reports. The sonogram. The letters in bold: PREGNANCY - 6 WEEKS CONFIRMED.

My hands dropped everything as I ran, almost tripping over the carpet in the hallway, my heartbeat slamming into my chest like a war drum.

He can’t find it. Not like this. Not with everything between us already so cracked and bleeding.

I burst into the room, breathless.

But I was too late.

He was already standing there. Still. Silent. The pink file in his hand like it was dipped in poison. Or maybe salvation.

His eyes lifted.

And in them—I saw nothing.

No softness. No affection. Just cold fury laced with confusion and betrayal. Like I had stabbed him in the back in the deepest way possible.

“Jungkook,” I whispered, stepping forward.

He didn’t say a word. Just began walking toward me with slow, deliberate steps until my back hit the wall.

I gasped.

His hand slammed beside my head.

The pink file dropped.

He stared at me. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard, I swore he could hear it.

Then—without a word—he lifted my T-shirt slowly, his calloused fingers brushing against the soft skin of my belly.

It made me shiver.

His eyes dropped to the tiny swell that hadn’t even started showing yet. His lips brushed against it.

“Is there really a baby?” he asked, his voice so low and broken that it didn’t sound like him.

I nodded.

Tears burned my eyes. “Yes… there is.”

His hands curled against the wall. He stayed there, forehead resting just above my stomach, breathing hard.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered.

I couldn’t answer.

How could I?

I looked at him, the man I both loved and feared.

“You still think I did it?” he said after a beat. His voice didn’t waver. “You still think I raped Suyeon. That I killed her. That I tried to murder Junghyun?”

“Yoongi—” I tried.

“Don’t,” he snapped, pulling back. His eyes were blazing. “Don’t speak his name to me.”