“E-eomma...”
Jimin’s voice was barely above a whisper as he stepped into the familiar yet foreign place he hadn’t visited in years. His feet had taken him here instinctively, even though it wasn’t where he wanted to be. The small shop was dimly lit, quiet, and almost forgotten, much like the memories he had of it.
As soon as Jimin opened the creaky door, his eyes fell on the sight of his mother, curled up and sleeping on the floor, alone. She looked so small, so fragile, lying there as if the weight of the world had pressed her into the ground.
“E-eomma...”
“Jimin? What are you doing here?” Mrs. Park’s voice cracked, groggy and disoriented from sleep.
Jimin didn’t answer. Instead, he silently knelt behind her, gently wrapping his arms around her thin frame. His cheek rested against her back as he held her, something he hadn’t done in so long that it felt unfamiliar, almost foreign.
“W-what... ” Mrs. Park’s hands moved instinctively to pry his arms off, confused and unaccustomed to this sudden closeness. Ever since she had taken Jimin away from the Jeon family, she had kept him at a distance. She had never allowed him to show her affection, and he had never dared to offer it.
“L-let me stay like this... just for a while,” Jimin whispered, his voice trembling. “Give me a chance... to embrace you.”
For a long moment, she didn’t move. Her hands, which had been pushing against his, fell to her sides, and she allowed herself to be held. It was strange, unfamiliar—this tender moment between them—but something in her heart softened.
As they sat there in silence, memories flooded her mind, especially the day Jungkook had stormed into her house. She remembered his anger, the way he had yelled at her, accusing her of being a terrible mother. Every insult he hurled at her had cut deep, reminding her of the truth she couldn’t escape—that she had failed Jimin. She had sold her own child’s happiness for her own selfish needs.
“Eomma,” Jimin’s voice broke the silence. “Can you tell me about Harabeoji?”
Mrs. Park stiffened slightly, surprised by the sudden request. It had been years since she’d talked about her father, Jimin’s grandfather. He had been the one source of love and stability in her life, and she had often shared stories about him with Jimin when he was a child—how much he had loved her, how proud he had been of her. But there was another side to those stories, one filled with pain and loss.
“Why do you want to know about him now?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and confusion.
“I just... want to know,” Jimin replied softly. “Please.”
Her shoulders sagged under the weight of old memories. “He lived in pain, Jimin. His life was filled with suffering. He was always so sick, always vomiting blood.”
“Didn’t Harabeoji go to the hospital?” Jimin’s voice cracked as he asked the question, already dreading the answer.
“He did,” Ms. Park said, her tone heavy with regret. “He went to get his medicine, but... we didn’t have enough money to keep him there. He had to stop his treatment because we couldn’t afford it. If we had the money, maybe... maybe he would have lived longer.”
Jimin’s body trembled, and Ms. Park felt his arms tighten around her. She froze, startled by the wetness seeping through her clothes. It wasn’t long before she realized that Jimin was crying, his tears soaking the back of her shirt.
“Jimin,” she said softly, her voice uncertain, “why are you crying?”
Jimin pulled back slightly, hastily wiping his eyes, trying to smile through his tears. “I-It’s just... sad, hearing about Harabeoji like that.”
He didn’t want to say more, didn’t want to tell her that it wasn’t just about his grandfather’s suffering—it was about all the pain and loss they had both endured. It was about the years they had spent disconnected, emotionally distant. He didn’t want to add to her guilt.
He lay his head in her lap, closing his eyes as if trying to capture a fleeting moment of peace. “Eomma... can you brush my hair?”
Ms. Park blinked, caught off guard by the simple, childlike request. “What’s going on with you?” she asked, her voice laced with confusion and suspicion. She wasn’t used to this kind of tenderness from Jimin.
“Just... this once,” Jimin pleaded, his voice breaking. “E-eomma, please.”
For a long moment, Ms. Park just stared down at her son. She couldn’t remember the last time she had brushed his hair—if she had ever done it at all. In fact, her hands had only ever been used to discipline him, to push him away. But now, as she ran her fingers through his soft locks, she felt something shift inside her.
As her fingers gently moved through Jimin’s hair, a small smile formed on his lips. It wasn’t the broad, happy smile of someone carefree—it was the fragile smile of someone who had found a sliver of peace in a moment that might not last.
“I’m... I’m sorry,” Ms. Park whispered, her voice breaking as tears welled up in her own eyes.
“Eomma,” Jimin murmured, his eyes still closed, “I love you. I always will.”
Her hands faltered for a second as his words sunk in. Jimin, the son she had pushed away, the son she had hurt in so many ways, was telling her he loved her. It was more than she deserved, and she knew it.
A single tear slipped down her cheek as she whispered, “I love you too, Jimin.”
For the first time in what felt like forever, they sat together in silence, their hearts finally understanding each other.
YOU ARE READING
Winter In My Heart (Jikook/Kookmin)
FanfictionJeon's family is a happy family, despite having only one son named Jeon Jungkook. They were content with their biological son, who was a good boy and respected both of his parents. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon knew their son was lonely at home and needed frien...
