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

76. School Fight.

Y/n’s POV

It was a chilly morning—one of those days where the air had a bite even under the sun. I wrapped a scarf around Aarohi’s neck as she munched her strawberry toast in the backseat, while Advait, sitting beside her with his ever-growing swagger, stared out the window like he was on his way to interrogate a spy, not attend the fourth grade.

“Advait, don’t forget your lunchbox this time,” I reminded, passing it to him over the seat. He gave a short nod, that same stiff nod Jungkook gives when he’s thinking too much and doesn’t want to talk.

I parked near the school gate, climbed out, and helped Aarohi with her bag.

“Mumma,” she chirped, adjusting her unicorn clip, “me and Hani are making a unicorn city in the sandbox today! There’ll be glitter everywhere!”

I smiled. “Try not to bring the entire glitter world back home again, okay?”

She giggled and kissed my cheek before skipping toward the entrance with her friends.

That’s when I saw him.

The same teacher.

Mr. Ha Joon.

Dark hair. Sharp jawline. Well-spoken. Polite. And fake.
Too polished. Too clean.
And those eyes—God—those damn eyes.

Something about them made my gut twist.

“Mrs. Jeon,” he greeted, nodding at me with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Mr. Ha Joon,” I replied coolly.

He bent a little to speak to Advait. “Hope you’re not planning to argue in debate class today, young man.”

Advait scoffed, adjusting his jacket collar like a mafia heir. “Only if the other kids start talking nonsense, sir.”

My lips twitched at his tone, but my attention never left Mr. Ha Joon. The way he looked at me… it wasn’t inappropriate. No. But it was knowing. Like we shared a secret I didn’t remember. Like he’d seen me before I ever knew him.

He excused himself with a nod and walked away, leaving behind that unsettling weight in my chest.

I fished out my phone as I climbed back into the car and called Jungkook.

“Morning, angel,” his voice came through, low and soft.

“Morning,” I muttered. “I saw him again. That teacher.”

He sighed on the other end. “Y/n… we already ran background checks. He’s clean. No fake records, no shady past.”

“I don’t care what the files say, Jungkook,” I said sharply. “He’s hiding something. I can feel it. The way he looks at me, it’s like he’s trying to remember who I used to be. Or maybe remind me who he is.”

“You’re overthinking, baby.”

“I’m not,” I insisted. “His eyes… they feel too familiar. It’s like… like I’ve seen them in my nightmares.”

There was a pause on the line.

Then: “I’ll tell Jimin to dig deeper. I trust your instincts more than any database. But just stay calm, okay?”

“I’m trying,” I whispered. “But I’ve got that mother’s instinct screaming at me.”

I hung up soon after and started driving back home. But just as I turned into the street near the bakery, my phone buzzed again.

It was the school.

"Advait got into a fight."

I stared at the message, heart dropping.

Ten minutes later, I was in the principal's office. Advait was sitting on the couch, arms crossed, a red mark near his eyebrow, looking more don-like than ever. On the opposite couch were a boy and his parents—upper-crust, judgmental stares, expensive perfume, and frowns deeper than the ocean.

The principal started, “Mrs. Jeon, thank you for coming. We had an incident today involving your son.”

“What happened?” I asked calmly, kneeling next to Advait. “Are you hurt?”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing. He called Aarohi a crybaby and said I don’t have a real family.”

My eyes narrowed. “So you punched him?”

“No,” he said. “I warned him twice. Then I punched him.”

The other mother gasped. “Your son is violent! He needs therapy!”

I stood up slowly. “My son is defensive. And maybe your kid needs to learn not to talk about families he knows nothing about.”

The father rose, clearly not expecting me to be this composed. “He should be suspended.”

I tilted my head. “Do you really want to drag this further? Because if we start comparing who did what, I’m happy to call my husband and let him discuss it properly.”

They both stiffened.
They knew the name Jeon Jungkook.

The principal raised his hands. “Let’s just say both sides need to talk to their children and let today be a lesson in respect.”

I glanced down at Advait. “Say sorry.”

He muttered, “Sorry.”

The other boy did the same, much more reluctantly.

When we walked out, I held Advait’s hand, glancing at the mark on his brow.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Appa said never to hit first. But I waited.”

I sighed, smiling. “We’ll talk more about it at home.”

“And Appa’s gonna say good job, I know it.”

I laughed under my breath. “Don’t bet on it.”

But even as I smiled at my son, my eyes darted back toward the school gate.

Mr. Ha Joon was watching us again.

Smiling faintly.

Unmoving.

And this time, I didn’t just feel strange.

I felt hunted.