"He left me bleeding? No, sweetheart-
I handed him the knife and told him to walk."
(Spoiler: he did.)
---
"Oh my goddess, Taehyung! Do something-I'm about to lose it!"
"Relax, sweetheart. Is it that time of the month again?"
"Shut up, you overgrown...
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☆*🥀*☆
...
The east wing of the Crystal Citadel had grown quieter over the past days, not with stillness, but with restraint—like a breath held beneath the surface of water. Every morning brought a new cart of gilded fabric and fine silks, elaborate flower arrangements enchanted to never wilt, and the soft rustle of maids moving with rehearsed grace.
Jungkook sat in silence, nestled on the daybed beside the east window, one palm spread over his belly as sunlight spilled in like gold-leaf. He wore one of the tunics the Queen had provided: dove-gray with embroidery that shifted faintly when touched by light, threads glimmering like snow under moonlight. The baby moved beneath his hand, a quiet flutter that made his breath catch.
“I know,” he whispered. “I feel it too.”
Downstairs, preparations for Taehyung’s wedding had reached fever pitch. Bells were being strung from the spires. Wards refreshed. Magical scent-blockers reinforced. It was all so elaborate, so surreal. And yet… it was happening. Taehyung was getting married.
And Jungkook—Jungkook would be there, standing just behind the veil of ceremony, waiting for the exact moment to tear the world open.
He should’ve felt powerful.
He felt hollow.
---
The day had begun with a headache, but it wasn't from fatigue or magic—just emotion. Too many of them. They churned like storms beneath his skin.
Ami had entered with warm chamomile water and tried to coax him to eat. He had nibbled on half a buttered roll and given up, stomach in knots. The Queen had sent another note—polite, distant—asking if he required anything in preparation for the wedding.
He hadn’t replied.
He couldn't.
Jungkook turned toward the open balcony doors, where pale winds lifted the curtains like whispers. He walked barefoot to the railing, gripping the marble tightly.
From here, he could see it all—the grand ballroom’s crystal roof, the courtyards with their snow-pearl blossoms, the spires hung with enchanted silk.
The place where everything would break.
“You should rest,” Seokjin had said earlier, checking his pulse with glowing fingers. “But I know you won’t.”
![His Baby Daddy [ Taekook ]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/236584438-64-k322372.jpg)