Saved || A Jungkook fanfic

37.

Vomit clawed at the back of my throat.

Nervous? That wasn't even close to what I was feeling.

As I slowly drove down the long, winding driveway, the drizzle that remained from the earlier storm painted silver streaks against my windshield. The world outside was still damp, the scent of rain clinging to the air, mixing with the petrichor rising from the pavement.

I wasn't just afraid. I was terrified.

Facing Jungkook again wasn't going to be easy, but I refused to run again.

My legs carried me up the steps of his estate, my fists clenched at my sides. I raised my hand to knock— and froze.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath, jerking my hand back like the door handle had burned me. I took a shaky step away, running both hands through my tangled hair, pacing in front of the massive double doors like a lunatic.

What the hell was I even doing here?

What if he doesn't want to see me? What if he's asleep? Or worse— at work? His family is rich, rich. Do billionaires have early marriage meetings? Is that a thing?

I didn't have time to spiral any further because the front door swung open without warning.

Jungkook stepped out.

And behind him— a girl.

The sight of her made my breath hitch. She was only a little older than me, with soft, delicate features—big, round eyes, a button nose, lips that curled into a gentle smile. Her chocolate-brown hair barely reached her chin, and there was something so effortless about the way she carried herself. She was... elegant.

For a moment, Jungkook and I just stared. Time slowed, like the universe was pressing pause so we could soak in every detail. Less than twenty-four hours had passed since our fight, but in that moment, it felt like a lifetime.

Jungkook opened his mouth, his lips shaping my name.

But before he could speak, two other figures swept past him and the girl, their gazes locking onto me with an air of immediate disapproval.

I didn't need an introduction.

His parents.

Jungkook was nearly the spitting image of his father, only younger, less hardened by time. His father's hair was dyed jet black except for a streak of silver at the front, his sharp features unreadable as he examined me. His mother was shorter, her face impossibly smooth from years of expensive procedures. She was draped in jewels and luxury fabric, her low bun pristine, not a single hair out of place.

Everyone looked polished, like they had just stepped out of an elite gala.

And me?

I was standing there in Eliza's borrowed clothes, a mess of damp hair and exhaustion.

This wasn't the first impression I wanted to make.

I forced my shoulders back, straightened my spine, and mustered a polite smile.

"Hello. I apologize for intruding, Jungkook. I didn't realize you had your family over."

The words came out stiff, unnatural. Since when did I talk to Jungkook like we were strangers?

His mother didn't move. Didn't blink. She simply studied me, the distaste in her gaze slicing through me like a scalpel.

"So, you're the one Jungkook failed to mention for months." Her voice was silky smooth, but there was nothing warm about it.