hrml1306
After his father's death, Jimin didn't just lose a parent.
He lost his home.
The house changed. Love turned into silence, silence into fear, and fear into something Jimin learned to carry quietly on his back like a curse. Every night became something to survive. Every morning became something to endure. And every bruise had a story he was never allowed to tell.
He learned how to be invisible.
How to be obedient.
How to stay alive.
Until the night he almost didn't.
An accident brings him to a hospital bed - wounded, exhausted, and finally exposed. There, he meet strangers : one who sees past the silence, and another who offers safety without demanding trust.
But safety feels dangerous when you've never had it.
Trust feels terrifying when it's never been deserved.
This is not a story about love at first sight.
It is a story about survival.
About trauma that lingers.
About healing that hurts.
About a boy who was broken not by strangers - but by the people who were supposed to protect him.
And about the slow, terrifying, beautiful process of learning that not every door hides danger.
Some doors lead home.