Everyone belongs with their own. | Min Yoongi FF (Being updated)

Unfortunate Fate |12|

Songs of the chapter - Violent (carolesdaughter) & Where Is My Mind? (Pixies)

Kyomi moved back behind the counter, trying to steady her hands as she placed empty mugs into the sink. Her fingers trembled just slightly—enough for her to notice, enough for her to hate. 

She leaned against the edge, stealing another glance toward the corner. Jae-hyun hadn't moved. That same unreadable expression lingered on his face, a mixture of patience and control that she couldn't quite pick apart. It rattled something in her—something that wanted to run, but something else, quieter and more reckless, that wanted to stay rooted exactly where she was.

And then, like a ghost brushing through her thoughts, Yoongi's face emerged—soft and half-forgotten. 

The curve of his smile during quiet nights, the way his voice had sounded saying her name like it mattered. It hit her like a wave, hot and hollow, a reminder of a love that never got the chance to fully exist. He'd been her safe place once. Someone who made her feel seen in a world that had been too loud and indifferent. Now, he was a memory. A secret. The father of her child who didn't even know she existed. You're losing it, she told herself. You're comparing a ghost to a man who's very much alive, and dangerously close.

She turned the tap on, letting the cold water rush over her hands, hoping it would chase away the heat rising in her chest. But it didn't. Everything inside her was in conflict—reason fighting with yearning, fear trying to smother fascination. She felt like she was being pulled in two opposite directions, both equally impossible. 

One whispered that she was slipping—emotionally fraying from the exhaustion of being a mother, from her past, from her loneliness. The other whispered that maybe she wasn't slipping at all... maybe she was waking up to something new. But that voice sounded too much like Jae-hyun's. And that made her stomach twist with guilt.

The bell above the door chimed again—sharp and final this time. Kyomi instinctively looked up from where she was refilling the sugar canisters, eyes flicking to the corner where Jae-hyun had sat for nearly an hour. The seat was now empty. 

Her gaze shot to the front of the café just in time to see the back of him disappearing into the street, shoulders squared and head held lowly. He didn't look back. Not once. Not a glance. 

Just gone.

The shift in her chest was immediate, confusingly hollow. It felt like being left in the middle of a sentence, like someone had walked away while she was still in the middle of feeling something. 

She caught herself mid-thought—Was I expecting him to say goodbye? Her brows furrowed, irritation flaring at her own reaction. She shook her head, brushing her hands off on her apron as if she could physically swipe the embarrassment away.

No, she told herself harshly. Don't go there. Don't be that girl. 

This wasn't a movie. This wasn't some mysterious stranger leaving her longing in a rain-drenched street. This was a man who had violated her privacy—who had shown warning signs she had no business romanticizing. Yet, her heart still thudded a little too loudly in the quiet that remained after he left. She clenched her jaw and turned back to work, telling her mind to shut up. It was just a distraction. Just a moment of weakness. And she didn't have room for weakness—not now. Not when she had Min-ches. Not when the ghosts of the past were already crowding her from every direction.

-BTS POV-

Back in Seoul, the atmosphere within the band had subtly shifted. The post-concert haze hadn't settled into the usual glow of accomplishment. Instead, it felt like something heavy had been left unresolved in the air, something none of them could quite name out loud—at least not in front of Yoongi. He had grown quieter than usual, not with the casual comfort of silence that was familiar to his members, but with a simmering distraction that pulled him inward. He hadn't spoken about what happened that night, not really. He hadn't even asked for confirmation—because some part of him was already convinced of what he'd seen.