[Jungkook's POV]

"Promise me, Jungkook. You won't ever speak of marrying a Korean woman. Promise me."

My mind was a storm, but I knew I couldn’t leave things hanging like this. I had to talk to her, had to understand her better, and maybe, just maybe, make her understand me.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I sat down next to her. The chair creaked under my weight, a sound that seemed too loud in the stillness of the room.

I looked at her, really looked at her, and for the first time, I saw more than just the strict, controlling woman who had dragged me back to London.

I saw the lines etched into her face, the softness in her eyes, the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide.

“Grandma,” I began softly, trying to find the right words. “Can I ask you something?”

She turned to me, her expression softening just a little. “Of course, Jungkook. What is it?”

I took another deep breath, trying to push down the lump in my throat.

“Tell me about Grandpa. How was he? How much did you love him?”

Her face changed then, like someone had lit a fire inside her. Her eyes brightened, and for a moment, I saw a glimpse of the young woman she must have been, the woman who fell in love with my grandfather.

She smiled, a soft, almost wistful smile, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of something—maybe jealousy, maybe sadness, maybe just a longing to understand.

“Oh, Jungkook,” she began, her voice filled with warmth. “Your grandfather… he was everything to me. He was strong, kind, a man of principle. He had this way of making you feel safe, like nothing in the world could ever harm you as long as he was around. I loved him more than words could ever express. He was my rock, my anchor in this world.”

I nodded, listening to her with a mix of admiration and curiosity. I had never really asked her about him before, never really thought about what he meant to her. But now, sitting here, I realized just how deep her love for him must have been.

“How did you meet?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “What was it like, falling in love with him?”

She chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to come from a place deep within her. “We met at a charity event. I remember it like it was yesterday. He was standing across the room, looking so handsome in his suit, and the moment our eyes met, I felt something… something I had never felt before. It was like the world just stopped, and there was only him and me.”

Her eyes grew distant, as if she was seeing that moment all over again. “He walked over to me, introduced himself, and from that moment on, we were inseparable. He was so full of life, so passionate about everything he did. I fell for him hard, Jungkook, and I never looked back. He made me feel like the most important person in the world, like I was the only one who mattered.”

I could hear the emotion in her voice, the love that still lingered there, even after all these years. It was a love that had endured, that had survived even after he was gone.

And I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy. She had loved so deeply, so completely, and here I was, struggling with my own feelings, my own heart.

“Did your heart ever… walk on one straight path?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly. “Did you ever bend to the force of love when Grandpa’s love hit you?”

She looked at me then, really looked at me, and for a moment, I thought I saw something like understanding in her eyes. “Oh, Jungkook,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion.

“Love… love is not something you can control. It’s not something you can predict or plan for. When it hits you, it changes everything. And yes, I bent to that force, I let it take me wherever it wanted. I couldn’t fight it, even if I had wanted to.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I knew she was speaking from experience, speaking from the depths of a love that had consumed her. And I felt a pang of something—fear, maybe—because I knew that what she was describing was exactly what I felt, exactly what I was trying so hard to fight.

“How often… how often did you drown in thoughts of him?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

She smiled again, a sad, wistful smile. “Every day, Jungkook. Every single day. Even after he was gone, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was always with me, in my thoughts, in my heart. He was my everything, and even now, I still think about him, still miss him.”

Her words were like a knife to my heart. I could see the pain in her eyes, the longing that had never faded.

And I knew, deep down, that I felt the same way. I was drowning in thoughts of her—my little one, my love, my everything. I had tried to push those feelings down, tried to be the man my grandmother wanted me to be, but I couldn’t fight it anymore. I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t love her, that I didn’t need her.

“Grandma,” I began, my voice shaking with emotion. “Grandpa isn’t here anymore, but… could you ever look at another man? Could you ever find someone else to love you? Or… or were you just… drowned in the thoughts of him?”

She looked at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and love. “No, Jungkook,” she said softly. “There was never anyone else for me. There never could be. Your grandfather was… he was my one true love, my soulmate. Even after he was gone, I could never imagine being with anyone else. My heart belonged to him, and it always will.”

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, like the air had been sucked out of the room.

Because I knew, in that moment, that I was the same. I was bound to my little one, to the woman I had promised my life to.

And no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I wanted to make my grandmother happy, I couldn’t give her what she wanted.

I couldn’t promise to stay away from the one person who made my life worth living.

This was it. This was the moment I needed to tell her, to make her understand what I was feeling, what was tearing me apart inside.

I took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady myself. “Grandma,” I began, my voice trembling with the weight of what I was about to say.

“I understand why you’re scared, why you don’t want me to make the same mistakes as my parents. But… I can’t promise you. I can’t promise you that I’ll live my life the way you want me to.”

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest. “I can’t promise you what you’re asking of me. I can’t promise to stay away from the source of my love, of my happiness. Because my life… it isn’t my own, Grandma. It belongs to her, to the one person who has my heart, my soul. The one person who makes me breathe, who gives me life.”

Her eyes widened, and I could see the shock, the fear, in her expression. “Jungkook… what are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” I continued, my voice trembling with emotion, “that just like you can’t stop loving Grandpa, even after all these years, I can’t stop loving her. I’ve waited all these years to be the man you wanted me to be, to live up to the expectations you set for me. I’ve done everything you asked of me, tried to be the gentleman you raised me to be. But I can’t… I can’t choose between you and my life, between you and her.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. “But Jungkook… she’s… is it a Korean woman…?”

The question that I knew was a tough deal to crack for Charlotte.

"It doesn't matter where she's from, Grandma," I argued. "Love is love. And I love her more than anything in the world."

Charlotte shook her head. "You're young, Jungkook. You don't understand the pain that can come from such a relationship."

"I'm willing to risk it," I said, my voice firm. "I'm willing to fight for her, no matter what."

She reached out, grabbing my hand, her grip trembling. “But I don’t want to lose you, Jungkook. I’ve already lost so much… I can’t lose you too.”

“You won’t lose me,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “But you have to let me live my life, Grandma. You have to let me make my own choices, even if they scare you. You can’t keep holding on to the past, to the fear of what might happen. You have to trust me, trust that I’ll be okay.”

She was crying now, silent tears streaming down her face, and it tore me apart to see her like this, to know that I was the cause of her pain. But I couldn’t back down, couldn’t give in. This was too important, too vital to who I was, to what I needed to do.

“I love you, Grandma,” I said softly, squeezing her hand. “I love you so much. But I love her too. And I can’t… I can’t live my life without her.”

She looked at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and fear, and I could see the struggle, the pain, in her expression. “Jungkook… please… don’t…”

[Charlotte's POV]

Jungkook's head rested heavily on my lap, just like it had so many times when he was a little boy. My hands moved almost on their own, gently combing through his hair as he let out a deep, trembling sigh.

It was as if he was trying to hold everything inside, all the emotions he couldn’t quite voice out. But I could feel it, the tension in his body, the way his fingers gripped the fabric of my dress as if I was the only thing grounding him in that moment.

“Grandma…” His voice broke, soft and full of so much pain. “I need you to understand… I need you to let me be happy. Please, I need you to want this for me.”

My heart clenched at the sound of his voice, the desperation in it. He sounded like a child again, like that same little boy who used to come running to me when something frightened him, seeking comfort, seeking answers.

But this… this was so much more. This was his life, his heart, and I was standing between him and the love he had cherished for so long.

“Jungkook, my sweet boy…” I murmured, my voice trembling. “You know I only want what’s best for you. I want you to be happy… but I’m so scared. I don’t want to lose you, like I lost him.”

“You won’t lose me,” he whispered, his hand reaching up to grasp mine. “You never will. But I can’t… I can’t live without her, Grandma. You’re like… you’re like one half of my lungs, and she’s the other. I can’t breathe without both of you. Please, don’t make me choose. I can’t do that… I can’t lose either of you.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, spilling over as I looked down at him, at the boy who had grown into a man before my very eyes.

I had tried so hard to protect him, to shield him from the pain and the darkness of the past, but now… now I realized that maybe I had been wrong.

Maybe I had been holding on too tightly, clinging to the fear that had gripped me for so long.

“Jungkook… what if… what if she isn’t right for you? What if she hurts you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, my heart aching at the thought.

“I’ll prove you wrong,” he said, his voice stronger now, filled with a quiet determination.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to show you that she’s the one. But I need your blessing, Grandma. Not just a yes, not just an agreement… I need you to believe in this, to believe in my happiness. I can’t do this without you.”

My breath caught in my throat, the weight of his words pressing down on me.

How could I deny him this?

How could I, who had once fought so fiercely for my own love, stand in the way of his?

I looked into his eyes, and all I saw was love, pure and undeniable. The kind of love that couldn’t be ignored, the kind that couldn’t be pushed away or suppressed.

The kind of love that I had once known.

“Jungkook… I’m scared,” I admitted, my voice trembling. “I’m so scared that you’ll end up hurt, that you’ll go through what Jaehwa went through. I couldn’t bear to see you in that kind of pain.”

He shook his head, his grip on my hand tightening. “I won’t, Grandma. I won’t let that happen. She’s not like that. She’s not… she’s not Minji. I know you’re afraid, but this is different. I’ve waited so long… I’ve done everything you wanted me to do. I’ve tried to be the man you wanted me to be, the man you raised me to be. But I can’t… I can’t let this go. I love you so much, and I don’t want to choose between you and her. Please, Grandma… please don’t make me choose.”

His words broke something inside me, the last remnants of the fear and doubt that had held me back for so long.

How could I ask him to choose?

How could I, who had been given the chance to love freely, deny him the same?

My heart ached with the weight of the past, of all the pain that had come before, but I couldn’t let that dictate his future. I couldn’t let my fears ruin his happiness.

I took a deep breath, my fingers still moving through his hair, trying to find the words, the strength to let go.

“Jungkook… I’ve been holding on so tightly to the past, to the pain, because I was so afraid of losing you. But I see now… I see how much you love her. And I can’t… I can’t stand in the way of that. I won’t.”

He looked up at me, his eyes wide with hope, with disbelief. “You… you mean it?”

I nodded, tears slipping down my cheeks. “Yes, my boy. Yes, I mean it. Go to her. Bring her back to me, to this house. I want to meet the woman who has captured my grandson’s heart. I want to know her, and I want… I want to be happy again, like I was with your grandfather.”

His face lit up with a smile, a smile so full of joy, so full of love, that it made my heart swell with pride and affection. “Grandma… thank you. Thank you so much. I promise, I won’t let you down. I promise I’ll make you proud.”

I pulled him close, hugging him tightly, feeling the warmth of his body, the strength of his love.

As I held him, I knew that this was right. That I was doing the right thing, the only thing I could do.

I was letting go of the past, of the pain, of the fear. I was letting him live, letting him love, and I was finally allowing myself to do the same.

As he pulled back, his eyes still shining with tears, he whispered, “I’ll make sure you never regret this, Grandma. I’ll bring her back, and I’ll prove to you that she’s the one.”

I nodded, my heart full, my spirit lightened by his words. “I know you will, Jungkook. I know you will.”

He stood up then, his movements full of purpose, of determination. I watched him go, my heart swelling with a strange mix of pride and sadness.

I knew I had made the right choice, the only choice, but it didn’t make it any easier. Letting go never was.

But as I sat there, in the quiet of the library, I felt a sense of peace that I hadn’t known in years.

I had done what I needed to do, what was right for him, and now… now it was up to him to live his life, to find his happiness.

And I would be here, always, ready to support him, to love him, and to protect him if ever the need arose. But for now… I would let him breathe. I would let him live.

And I would be happy.

As long as my Jungkook is happy.

---

[Jungkook's POV]

I stood in my room, staring at the four walls that had enclosed me for the last eight years. The grandeur of it all—the gilded ceilings, the antique furniture, the sheer luxury—none of it mattered now.

All I could think about was her.

My little one.

The woman who had captured my heart all those years ago, and who had never let go.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside me.

But how could I?

I was finally going back to her.

I didn’t pack anything. What was there to pack, anyway? None of this felt real, not the clothes, not the ties, not even the shoes.

It was all a façade, a life I had been forced into. But now… now, I was taking my life back. My eyes fell on a small, crumpled piece of foil on the nightstand. The old Dairy Milk wrapper from the first day I met her.

The memory flooded back, hitting me with a force that nearly took my breath away. Her shy smile, the way her eyes lit up when she offered me that chocolate. It was something so simple, so innocent, yet it had marked the beginning of everything.

I grabbed the wrapper, holding it tight in my fist as if it were the most precious thing in the world. And maybe it was.

With that, I was out the door, the old man trapped inside me shedding his skin like a snake, revealing the boy who was running back to his love.

I barely glanced at the grandeur around me as I rushed down the hallways of the chateau. The Napoleonic sculptures, the gold-plated chandeliers, the vast expanse of gardens—they were nothing more than a gilded cage, keeping me away from what truly mattered.

None of it had ever made me happy, not like she did. And now, with the thought of bringing her back to this place, the chateau didn’t feel like a prison anymore.

It felt like it could finally become a home, because a home is where she is.

I didn’t bother with explanations. I called the runway strip and gave the order to clear it for immediate takeoff.

The staff scrambled, asking where I was going.

I wanted to say ‘Home,’ but instead, I said, “Busan.”

That’s where she was.

That’s where my life was waiting for me.

As I stepped outside, I looked back at the chateau one last time. I let my eyes scan over the luxury—the marble columns, the lush gardens, the fountains that sparkled in the moonlight.

None of it compared to the happiness I felt now, knowing I was going back to her. The only thing that made me pause was when I saw her, standing on the balcony, watching me with those eyes that had seen too much, that had lost too much.

My grandmother.

The only source of life in this golden cage. She waved at me, a smile on her face, and for the first time in years, it felt genuine.

I waved back, my chest tight with a mixture of love and guilt. But this was the right thing. I knew it was.

Inside the plane, I couldn’t sit still. I was pacing up and down the aisle, my heart racing faster than the plane itself. The staff tried to comfort me, offering drinks, food, anything to keep me calm, but nothing worked.

My thoughts were consumed with her, with what I would say, with how she would react when she saw me.

I kept asking the air hostess, “How much longer? Are we there yet?” Every five minutes, the same question, and every time, she would smile and tell me, “Not yet, sir. But soon.”

Soon couldn’t come fast enough.

I was jittery, nervous, my foot tapping uncontrollably as I sat down for all of two minutes before getting up again. My body was exhausted, but my mind refused to rest.

All I could see was her face, her smile, the way she looked at me with those eyes that had always seen right through me. The way she made me feel like I was finally home.

When the wheels touched down in Busan, it felt like an eternity had passed. I practically jumped out of my seat, my heart pounding in my chest as I rushed to the exit.

The Rolls Royce Phantom was waiting for me, the driver standing by the door, but I barely acknowledged him. I was in the car in an instant, telling him to drive, faster than he ever had before.

It was 2 a.m., not the ideal time to show up unannounced, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t wait another second.

As the car raced through the streets of Busan, everything felt so familiar, so right. The buildings, the lights, the people—they were all just a blur as I focused on one thing, one destination.

The map was etched into my memory, leading me back to the place where I had spent the most beautiful days of my life. I knew every turn, every street, every corner leading to her.

The closer we got, the more my heart pounded, the more I felt like that young boy again, the one who had fallen so hopelessly in love.

The car finally slowed as we reached the neighborhood, and I felt my breath hitch in my throat.

There it was, the same house, the same street, unchanged by time. My eyes were drawn to the neighbor’s nameplate—Lee.

The same name, the same family. I reached out, touching the cool metal of the sign, a wave of nostalgia washing over me.

This was it. This was where I belonged.

My gaze drifted to the window on the ground floor, her room. The room I had climbed into so many times just to be with her, to see her, to hold her.

My fingers grazed the glass, memories flooding back, overwhelming me. This was where it had all started, where I had found the love of my life.

I stepped back, my heart racing, my chest tight with emotion.

I was here.

I was really here.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself, before I walked up to the door. This was it. This was the moment I had been waiting for, the moment I had dreamed about for so long.

I was finally going to see her again.

My little one.

My love.

My life.

The plan was simple: scale the wall, climb into her room, and surprise her. The memories of doing just this as a kid, sneaking into her room through the window, filled me with a sense of nostalgia.

But tonight, it felt different.

I was different.

We were both different.

But the thrill of that youthful rebellion, the excitement of breaking the rules for love, was still alive in me.

I approached the high wall that separated her garden from the rest of the world.

The wall loomed large, but I had done this countless times before. The thrill of the climb, the rush of adrenaline—it all came rushing back. I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and started to climb.

The climb was swift and sure. I pulled myself up over the top and landed softly on the other side, a small thrill of triumph coursing through me.

I crept across the garden, the soft grass brushing against my shoes. Her window was just ahead, glowing faintly in the moonlight. The familiarity of it made my chest tighten. This was it. I was so close.

I reached the base of her window, my breath coming in shallow, excited gasps. But as I approached, I noticed something that made my heart sink—curtains pulled down tight and the window locked.

The sight was like a bucket of cold water thrown over my head. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. I hadn’t anticipated this.

Frustration and disappointment washed over me. I pressed my ear against the glass, hoping to hear something, anything that would indicate she was still awake, that there was still a chance I could see her tonight.

I started to whisper her name, over and over, my voice barely more than a breath.

My hand moved instinctively to the lock, but before I could make a move to force it open, I heard a voice behind me. It was one of the butlers from the chateau. I turned around, startled.

The butler was standing there with a mixture of disappointment and concern on his face.

“You know, young master” he began softly, “I used to do this sort of thing when you were a kid. It was fine then because you were both kids. But this is different. This room belongs to a woman now, not a girl. And she might not be in a condition to see you at this hour.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut.

Woman.

My little one was a woman now.

The realization was like a tidal wave crashing over me. It brought with it a rush of embarrassment and anxiety.

The thought of seeing her at night, unannounced, without knowing her state—was it even appropriate?

In Britain, such acts were reserved for those who were very close to the woman. It was intimate, private.

Only someone deeply involved, perhaps a husband, would enter her chambers at such an hour. The notion was foreign and unsettling to me.

The cultural difference suddenly seemed enormous and profound. I had never considered that the act of sneaking into her room could be seen as anything more than a romantic gesture.

I swallowed hard, feeling a knot of regret in my stomach. The butler’s words rang in my ears. I didn’t want to embarrass her or cause her distress.

The idea of her waking up to find me there, possibly not dressed appropriately, filled me with a sense of shame and discomfort.

I looked back at the butler, feeling the weight of his concern and the gravity of the situation. “I’m sorry,” I said softly, surprising even myself. “I didn’t think... I should have considered…”

The butler nodded, though surprised on hearing a sorry from him which was unusual.

“It’s alright, sir. I understand. But it’s important to respect her privacy. And right now, she might not be in the best state to see anyone.”

I felt a pang of sadness, but I knew he was right. The last thing I wanted was to make things awkward for her, or to intrude on her personal space.

With a heavy heart, I walked away from the window, leaving behind the excitement and the anticipation that had driven me here.

I took one last look at the house, the room where I had dreamed of holding her, and then turned away.

The street was quiet, the only sound the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. I felt like a lost soul, wandering away from the one place I wanted to be.

I walked slowly to the adjacent house, the one that had been closed shut and abandoned ever since Mirae had left. It was a ghostly presence, a stark contrast to the vibrant life that had once been there.

I made my way to the front door, where the familiar creak of the old hinges greeted me. I let myself in, the scent of the place bringing back a wave of nostalgia. Everything was just as it had been, albeit a bit dustier.

The house felt quiet and still, and I found myself pacing back and forth, unable to sit still. The hours ticked by slowly, the clock on the wall seeming to mock me with each passing minute.

My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. I could barely contain my excitement, but also the worry of missing the chance to see her if I didn’t act quickly.

Despite the exhaustion from my journey, sleep eluded me. I tossed and turned, checking the clock obsessively.

My impatience grew with each tick of the clock, the minutes stretching into what felt like an eternity.

But my nerves got the better of me. In my jittery state, I ended up running around in a frenzy, getting more and more agitated as the minutes passed.

My body was betraying me, as the fatigue finally took over, and at 7 AM, I collapsed onto the bed, finally succumbing to sleep.

It was a deep, exhausted slumber, one that wiped away the restless night, but also robbed me of the precious hours I had hoped to spend preparing for our reunion.

When I woke up, the sun was high in the sky, the room filled with light and the sounds of the bustling day. I looked at the clock in panic, realizing that it was already past 2 PM.

The anger bubbled up inside me as I jumped out of bed, frantically getting dressed and preparing to see her. The realization that I had wasted so much time had me seething, and I was ready to scold anyone who had allowed me to sleep through the morning.

I stormed out of the room, my frustration boiling over as I demanded answers from the maids about why no one had woken me.

“Why didn’t anyone wake me?” I bellowed as I emerged from the room, frantically pulling on a shirt that was a close match to the one I had worn on the day I took her to the mall.

I’d spent hours searching for something that would remind her of our past. “Why did you let me sleep in so late?!”

The maids were all hovering around, their faces a mixture of confusion and fear. They exchanged nervous glances as they tried to avoid eye contact with me.

I was furious, my excitement now marred by the frustration of lost time. My voice echoed through the large, empty house as I continued my tirade.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment? And you just let me sleep through it?” I threw a jacket on haphazardly, not caring about its disheveled appearance. “How could you all be so careless? This is a major day for me, and I’ve wasted half of it sleeping!”

One of the maids, her voice trembling slightly, finally spoke up. “Sir, we’re really sorry. We thought you needed rest after the long flight. We didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Rest?” I snapped, pacing back and forth. “I don’t need rest. I need to see her!”

My heart raced as I tried to collect my thoughts. I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. “Where is she? What time did she leave?”

The maid, clearly relieved to have been asked a question she could answer, replied hesitantly, “She left for college this morning, around 8. She takes the college bus.”

“College?” My mind whirled as I tried to grasp the implications. “Busan University was supposed to conclude it's classes last week and her university should've been over by now.”

The maid responded with a shaky voice, “Tue session is running a little late here compared to Britain. Her session ends in 3 days.”

I glanced at my watch and did a quick mental calculation. “So, it’s a Saturday. That means her classes should end around 2:30 PM. I’ve got time. I can still catch her.”

Without wasting another second, I dashed down the stairs, barely acknowledging the frightened looks of the maids who had watched me make a mess of my room and my morning.

I made a beeline for the garage, determined to drive myself. The Rolls Royce Phantom stood ready, , which felt more like a lifeline to my reunion with her.

I threw open the door and slid into the driver’s seat, ignoring the confused butler who had been preparing to drive me.

“I’ll drive,” I said firmly, my voice brooking no argument. “Move.”

The butler tried to protest. “Sir, it’s not safe for you to drive yourself when you're jet lagged. Let me—”

“No!” I cut him off, slamming the car door shut. “I need to do this myself. I need to get to her. Now.”

The engine roared to life as I accelerated out of the driveway, the luxurious car slicing through the streets of Busan. My mind was a storm of thoughts, each one focused solely on her. I was almost shaking with excitement and anxiety, my heart pounding with every turn I took.

The Rolls Royce Phantom roared through the avenues, cutting through traffic like a hot knife through butter. I was fixated on one thing: getting to Y/n as quickly as possible.

Then, I spotted it—an unmistakable sight that made my pulse quicken even more. A large, yellow college bus pulled up ahead.

My eyes locked onto it.

There she was, my little one, in that very bus. My heart surged with a fierce determination. No way was I going to let this chance slip by.

I instructed the driver to pull up alongside the bus, feeling the thrill of the chase.

I saw a fleet of cars in my rearview mirror, my butler and his team following closely behind, likely worried about my driving speed.

But I didn’t care.

The only thing that mattered was reaching her.

I threw the car in front of the bus, halting it mid-way disturbing the whole traffic.

I was impatient, my door flinging open as I dashed out onto the street. The college bus was now halted, the driver looking out through the window with a scowl that was almost comical.

Ignoring the irritated honks and the angry shouts from the bus driver, I marched straight up to the bus doors.

“Excuse me! Sorry for the interruption!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the noise. “I need to speak to one woman from the bus!”

The driver, already furious at the disruption, began cursing under his breath. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, blocking the bus like this? Get back in your car, you rascal! So you have no respect for traffic rules?”

I barely registered his words. My focus was solely on the woman who was my whole world. I took a deep breath and tried to stay calm, despite the rising tension.

“I don’t care about your rules!” I barked, my frustration peaking. “Move out of the way! Do you even know who I am?”

[A/n : Deja vu? Hehe. Refer Chapter 1, this scene will hit differently after you read Y/n and Jungkook's first interaction.]

The driver’s face flushed with anger, but my determination was unshakeable.

I could see the confusion and surprise on the faces of the students peering out of the windows, but I wasn’t here for them.

I only had eyes for Y/n.

Just then, a young woman from the back of the bus marched forward, her steps firm and determined.

“Hey! Who do you think you are talking to driver uncle like that?” she yelled, her voice cutting through the din of the driver’s complaints.

I turned to face her, and my heart skipped a beat.

It was Y/n.

My little one.

Her defiant stance and fiery words were a blast from the past. I could hardly believe my eyes. It was like seeing a ghost from a cherished memory come alive.

Not only her, but the ring was nearly put in place in her third finger, just like I had left it years ago.

The young woman continued, her anger palpable. “I don’t care who you are. You are being rude and you need to apologise!"

Same lines.

Same words.

Same girl.

Same boy.

Just a different timeline.

Except that, nothing changed. Not even their words.

They were still the same. The same kids, untouched by anything in this world.

A chuckle escaped my lips, and tears started to form. Her words, her attitude—they were just like they used to be. It was like déjà vu. My emotions overwhelmed me, and I felt a tear slip down my cheek.

“Why should I?” I said, almost as if I was repeating a line from years ago.

“I always get what I want.”

The woman stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening as she finally took in the sight of me. Recognition dawned on her face, and her expression shifted from anger to disbelief.

Her eyes melted like lava, a pool of hot tears lining her eyes.

“Kookoo…” she whispered, her voice breaking as she realized who I was.

I spread my arms wide, a smile breaking through my tears.

This was my cue.

My turn.

My woman.

“I’ve waited in line for over 10 years, my little one. Please… can I finally have what I want?”

Y/n’s reaction was immediate. A chuckle cracked from her throat as she too perhaps recollected the memory from years ago.

Her eyes filled with tears, and she stumbled forward, her anger forgotten. She ran down the bus steps, her movements slow but determined.

When she reached me, I pulled her into a tight embrace. We held each other, both of us crying and laughing at the same time. I spun her around, my heart bursting with joy.

Finally, we were together again. The long wait, the separation—it was all worth it for this moment.

We clung to each other, our emotions pouring out in the purest expression of relief and happiness.

When she landed in my arms, I spun her around, my heart soaring with happiness.

“Finally! My little one!” I shouted, the words echoing with the joy and relief I felt.

The bus driver, the onlookers, and the chaos faded into the background as I embraced her, spinning her around in sheer delight.

Y/n clung to me, her sobs gradually turning into soft laughter as I held her close. The long wait was finally over, and I could hardly believe that we were together again.

In that moment, nothing else mattered—just us, wrapped up in a hug that said more than words ever could.

But the moment was abruptly shattered when the bus driver, his bus honked and his voice cracking with frustration, spoke up.

“If Romeo and Juliet are done with their reunion,” he said with a hint of sarcasm, “some of us would like to get home. Not everyone has a boyfriend with a Rolls Royce to drive them.”

Y/n pulled away from me, a chuckle escaping her lips. She walked up to the driver, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Boyfriend? What boyfriend?” she teased.

With a playful grin, she walks back in the bus and lifted the driver’s hat off his head.

“Sorry for the trouble,” she said, her tone softening.

“But Y/n never stands for any spoiled brat using his privileges.”

She turned back to me, her eyes sparkling with that familiar sass and righteousness.

She places the driver's hat on my head.

“Let’s go home, my personal driver,” she said, her smile widening.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at her audacity. I loved this about her—her ability to turn this British Royal into a commoner, as if she never understood the concepts of privilege.

Damn, she grounds him so well.

As I followed her to the Rolls Royce, I glanced at her back, watching her finally with me.

I whispered softly to myself, “Your spoiled brat.”