Anger never builds; it only tears down. In the heat of a single moment, it can feel like strength, an armor to hide behind. But when the fire fades, all that's left are the ashes of what once mattered. Anger doesn't solve anything-it devours patienc...
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If I had to write about happiness, your name would be in every line.
Chapter 18: Flowers
Taehyung felt a flicker of excitement as he adjusted to his new job at Jin’s restaurant. It wasn’t glamorous, but it gave him purpose. The steady rhythm of work kept his hands busy and his mind focused. He moved carefully between the tables, balancing trays with practiced ease, and handled each task with quiet diligence. His gestures were gentle—wiping down a table until it gleamed, refilling glasses without spilling a drop, bowing politely to customers as he delivered their meals.
From the counter, Jin and the restaurant manager, Hansung, observed him with quiet interest. Taehyung’s competence was undeniable—he picked things up quickly, as though he’d done this a hundred times before. Truthfully, he had. Life had forced him into many jobs over the years, and each one left him with skills that now fell naturally into place.
At the moment, he was at the sink, sleeves rolled up, forearms wet with soapy water as he scrubbed dishes with focus. The clinking of porcelain filled the air, blending with the low chatter of diners and the occasional clang of utensils from the kitchen. He was so absorbed in the task that he nearly jumped when a voice cut through the noise, closer than expected.
“Say, what exactly is your relationship with Jungkook?”
Taehyung froze, blinking at the words, then turned his head. Jin stood beside him, arms crossed firmly over his chest, brows arched, watching him with the sharp look of someone who already had suspicions.
“Sorry, what was that?” Taehyung asked, setting a dish back into the soapy water. He thought maybe he had misheard the sound of the sink.
“I asked,” Jin repeated slowly, as if testing him, “what your relationship with Jungkook is.”
Taehyung stiffened. That question… he wasn’t even sure he could answer it himself. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure where to begin. Were they friends? Acquaintances? Enemies turned… something else? It didn’t feel right to call Jungkook a friend—not with the complicated history between them. They weren’t strangers either, not after everything they’d endured. And yet, what bound them together wasn’t companionship or affection, but the strange pact of two people seeking justice for their parents.
Finally, he muttered, “I… don’t really know. I guess… he’s my landlord? Since he lets me stay at his place.”
The words sounded absurd the moment they left his mouth.
Jin let out a dry laugh, his lips twisting. “Landlord? That’s the best you can come up with?” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing in disbelief. “I don’t think landlords usually help their tenants find jobs, bring them along everywhere, or hover around them like he does. Don’t you think that sounds a little too generous for just ‘landlord and tenant’?”
