When It Comes To You |j.k

57: 岳母

It's been over three years since I last saw Jungkook's mother. Our first interaction wasn't so positive either. I caught a glimpse of her years ago when Jungkook rushed me out his house to get me home. She was merely in the corner of my eye, but even then I could see the disappointed expression on her face.

Fast forward over three years, we're about to meet a second time because I'm marrying her son. I wonder how bizarre this would sound to some other people. Let's just say most people don't get married after only seeing the parents—or in this case, parent—two times.

Jungkook and I are both waiting at the restaurant for his mother. We have our own box, with a door and everything to ensure our privacy. She's a few minutes late, and by Jungkook's own words, there was no need to worry, and that she is never truly on time. It was when his hand went on my thigh, did I look down to realize I'd been picking on my cuticles.

Hell, who could blame me? I'm nervous as fuck. Jungkook's parents have always seemed hard to reach in my head. They barely understood their own son, anyway. And I could never forget how far they went just to tear us apart. If you didn't give me three years to let the anger simmer, I'd jump on her the moment I see her come through the door.

We were silent as we waited, both seemingly with enough thoughts to occupy ourselves as is. Jungkook seemed just as nervous when his grip on my thigh tightened, not even as to squeeze it, but to hold onto it like he would my hand, if i wasn't busy picking it.

The spot on my thigh where his hand rested grew cold when he stood up, palm leaving my skin. I did the same after him, realizing that the door was opening, and eventually revealed his mother.

I really felt my feet wobbling as I stood.

"Hello, Mother." Jungkook spoke, and I managed to squeeze out a quiet greeting after him. She simply nodded at the two of us before taking her own seat.

Now, I barely have any memory of her, but even then I can tell she isn't looking her best—like she's had the life sucked out of her. Grief does that to you.

"I understand you organized this dinner to discuss something with me, and as I'm guessing, this is involving her? As her presence is needed in this situation?"

Oh god, she's skinning me alive. I gulp with my gaze drawn to the utensils, and all their shiny, expensive glory.

"Mother," Jungkook's hand slithers to mine from under the table and simply gives it a pat, before resting on my thigh. "She will be here, necessary or not, in the future. We are here to discuss..our marriage, Mother."

I sneak a glance at her, and she seemed completely unfazed, unfolding a napkin and carefully placing it on her lap.

His mother took her time to take a sip of water before responding, "Well, first you will need to put out a statement to the public alongside the company. Whether you want to reveal her identity or simply describe her as a non-celebrity is for you to discuss, but I highly suggest the latter, unless she's to have a part in the business."

Jungkook's palm was getting warm on my skin, with his grip growing tighter.

"Mother, you know that's not what this is about."

The ventilation in the room is marvel, and the lighting is bright yet soothing, so tell me why fit feels as though I'm in utter darkness, burning like black coal?

"Sweetheart, does it matter how I feel about the marriage? The two of you would go ahead and do it anyway, am I not wrong? Why would I be foolish enough to think I could now, if your father and I couldn't three years ago?"

My fingers fumbled to the menu as I flipped it open, hopefully to distract myself as she and her son talked back and forth. All I want now is to curl into Jungkook's side.