Destiny's love

Part-57

Jungkook's POV

Her body moved faintly under the blanket, a soft stir as if she was fighting through some foggy dream. My heart froze in my chest, every muscle tightening, afraid she might suddenly open her eyes.

But she didn't. She only shifted slightly, then settled again, her breathing uneven but steady enough.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. My gaze lingered on her — the woman I loved, the woman who right now looked so fragile, so unaware of the storm that had nearly consumed her.

And then my eyes caught the marks.

Those damn, filthy marks on her skin.

My jaw clenched so hard it ached. The red blotches scattered along her neck and collarbone burned into my vision like fire. They weren't mine. They weren't born out of love, out of tenderness. They were ugly scars of violation, of someone else's hands pretending to be me.

I looked away, pressing the heel of my hand against my mouth, trying to stop the wave of anger and helplessness that surged through me. If she saw this... if she woke up and saw herself in a mirror...

She would break.

Hayoung, my Hayoung — she would start blaming herself, hating herself, believing she had let this happen. I know her heart. She would carry the guilt even though none of it was her fault. She would bleed inside from shame that wasn't hers to bear.

And I couldn't let that happen.

Never.

I stood up suddenly, pacing the room like a trapped animal, my hands trembling with the weight of my thoughts. The image of her looking in a mirror tomorrow, her fingers brushing over those marks, her lips trembling as tears streamed down her face — I couldn't take it.

No.

I wouldn't let her see.

Not now. Not when she's already so lost, already so torn apart inside from distance, from manipulation, from everything Rohan poisoned between us. If she saw, it would destroy her completely.

I turned to the room. My eyes fell on the full-length mirror by the wardrobe. My chest tightened. Without thinking, I moved forward and dragged it out, the legs scraping against the floor with a harsh sound. I shoved it into the hallway, face against the wall.

Then the smaller mirror on the dresser. Gone.

Even the small round one in the bathroom — I yanked it off the wall, setting it down out of sight.

Every reflective surface that could betray her was stripped away, hidden, erased. The house would remain bare if that was what it took.

When I walked back into the bedroom, she stirred again, lips parting slightly in her half-conscious state. My heart clenched, and I rushed to her side, kneeling down beside the bed.

"I'm here," I whispered, voice breaking though I kept it low. "I'm here, Hayoung. You're safe. You don't have to see anything. You don't have to know."

Her face relaxed slightly at my words, though I knew she couldn't truly hear me. It was instinct — maybe some part of her recognizing my presence.

I brushed the hair back from her forehead, my fingers trembling. My throat tightened as I looked at her — not at the marks, but at her.

The girl who smiled so brightly when she laughed. The girl who held my hand like I was her world. The girl who was always strong, always full of fire — and now lay so small, so fragile before me.