[Jungkook's POV]

[Next morning ]

I woke up with a sharp, splitting headache. My mouth was dry, my body heavy. Blinking against the morning light, I turned to my side—and froze.

Minji was lying next to me, bare.

My breath caught in my throat, and a wave of nausea rolled over me. I sat up, my mind racing. The memories from the night before hit me like a train—her tearful face, her desperate words, the way she had ignored my weak protests as the drug dulled my senses.

"No," I whispered to myself, the word trembling as it left my lips.

I stumbled out of bed, my legs shaky, and rushed to the bathroom. As soon as I reached the sink, I emptied my stomach. The disgust clawed its way up my throat, and I couldn't hold it back.

My body felt tainted, violated. Even in my fogged state last night, I had tried to stop her. I had mumbled, pleaded for her to listen. This is wrong, I had thought, over and over. But she didn’t stop.

I gripped the edges of the sink, my knuckles turning white. The reflection staring back at me in the mirror didn’t look like me. My eyes were bloodshot, my face pale.

What kind of husband am I? I can’t even protect myself, let alone her. 

I let out a shaky breath, wiping my face with cold water. The sensation didn’t help. The disgust lingered, sitting heavy in my chest.

When I finally gathered enough strength to leave the bathroom, I couldn’t bring myself to look at her at first. But then, as I turned to the bed, my eyes fell on her.

She was still bare, her body curled up slightly under the morning light. I felt an overwhelming mix of emotions—shame, pity, and a deep, aching sadness.

I noticed the tear stains on her cheeks, the way they glistened in the sunlight. She’d cried herself to sleep. My stomach twisted painfully at the realization.

Did she regret it too? Did she feel disgusted by me? By what she had done?

I grabbed the duvet from the edge of the bed and carefully draped it over her. I couldn’t bear to see her like that—not because I was disgusted by her, but because I was disgusted by myself.

I sank into the chair by the window, burying my face in my hands. My mind raced with thoughts I couldn’t control.

I couldn’t stop the tears that started to fall. They streamed down my face, hot and relentless. I tried to stifle the sobs, but it was no use.

I felt violated. I felt weak. But most of all, I felt like a failure.

Last night wasn’t just a betrayal. It wasn’t just a moment of weakness. It was a breaking point. For her. For me. For everything we’d built together.

—

I couldn't look at her.

Not after last night.

As I sat in the passenger seat of the car, staring out the window, the memories gnawed at me like sharp teeth.

I felt violated. The word echoed in my head like a siren, sharp and unrelenting. She hadn’t cared about my protests, hadn’t cared about my tears. She wanted what she wanted, and she took it.

And I hated her for it.

The bitterness rose in my chest, threatening to choke me. I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms as I tried to steady my breathing.

Beside me, Minji sat quietly, her eyes fixed on her phone. She didn’t say a word, didn’t acknowledge my presence. The silence between us was thick, suffocating. I didn’t know if she felt guilty, or if she even cared.

A part of me wanted to confront her, to scream at her, to demand to know why she thought it was okay—why she thought I was hers to take without consent. But another part of me was too tired, too broken. What was the point?

She looked calm, almost indifferent, as if last night hadn’t happened. As if she hadn’t crossed a line that could never be uncrossed.

But then I noticed the faint redness around her eyes, the way her lips pressed together like she was holding back something—tears, maybe, or anger.

As we arrived at the airport, I forced myself to focus on the logistics of the trip. 

Hokkaido.

What's the meaning of this staycation when I can't even relax?

“Are you coming?” her voice broke through my thoughts, cold and distant.

I nodded stiffly, grabbing my bag and following her to the check-in counter. The weight of her presence was unbearable, her every move a reminder of the chasm that had opened between us.

On the plane, she took the window seat, leaving me by the aisle. I couldn’t bring myself to sit close to her, angling my body away as much as the cramped space would allow.

As the plane ascended, I stared at the seatback in front of me, my thoughts spiraling. Could I ever forgive her? Did I even want to?

As I closed my eyes, trying to block out the storm of emotions swirling inside me, I realized something that made my chest ache.

I didn’t just hate her.

I hated myself more.

—

[Author's POV]

When Jungkook and Minji stepped off the plane in Hokkaido, the air was crisp, carrying with it the promise of snow.

The tension between them was unbearable, though neither spoke of it. They were here, after all, for a yearly tradition—a December trip with friends, where everything was supposed to look perfect from the outside.

At the lodge, Taehyung and Sitara were already waiting, bundled in thick coats. Taehyung’s wide smile greeted them first. He pulled Jungkook into a bear hug. “You’re late, man. Thought you missed the snow this year!”

Sitara followed behind, a smaller, gentler smile lighting her face as she hugged Minji briefly. “It’s good to see you both,” she said politely, her tone warm but measured. Jungkook’s eyes briefly met hers, a flicker of nostalgia rushing through him.

[Flashbacks]

Sitara had been a part of Jungkook’s life long before she became Taehyung’s wife. She joined Jungkook’s company four years ago, fresh out of university and eager to make her mark. He still remembered the day they met.

It was lunchtime, and the office cafeteria was buzzing with chatter. Jungkook, as always, sat alone at a corner table, too shy to join anyone despite his status as the CEO. Sitara, oblivious to his position, had approached him with her tray, her confident smile disarming.

“Mind if I sit here?” she’d asked, balancing her lunch tray precariously.

Jungkook had nodded, words failing him. Sitara introduced herself and started talking, filling the silence with stories about her family, her goals, and her obsession with books. By the end of that lunch, Jungkook was utterly smitten.

Over the next few months, Jungkook’s small crush grew. Sitara’s warmth, intelligence, and sense of humor made her stand out in a way no one else had. 

He’d often find excuses to drop by her desk or ask for her input on projects, just to spend a little more time with her.

But Jungkook was shy. He never said a word about his feelings.

It was on a rainy day that everything changed. Jungkook and Taehyung were having lunch together in the office cafeteria. Taehyung, his childhood best friend and business partner, leaned in and said casually, “You know Sitara? I think I like her.”

Jungkook froze. His chest tightened, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“You like her?” he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Taehyung nodded, his grin wide and boyish. “Yeah, man. She’s amazing. I’m thinking of asking her out. What do you think?”

Jungkook forced a smile. “Go for it.”

Later that day, Jungkook watched from his office window as Taehyung waited for Sitara by the entrance. When she walked out, he saw the way her face lit up at the sight of Taehyung. That was all the confirmation Jungkook needed. She liked him too.

He stepped back from the window, his heart heavy.

Jungkook knew Taehyung was better for her. He was outgoing, confident, and charming—everything Jungkook wasn’t. So, he quietly backed off, burying his feelings deep inside. It wasn’t his place to interfere with something that seemed so natural.

Taehyung and Sitara started dating shortly after that. Their relationship blossomed quickly, becoming the kind of romance people envied. They were the perfect pair—Taehyung’s playfulness balanced Sitara’s calm demeanor, and her grounded nature kept him steady.

Jungkook watched from the sidelines, their love story unfolding before him like a movie. He attended their engagement party, smiling through the bittersweet ache in his chest. By then, Jungkook had met Minji, and though his heart wasn’t fully in it, he convinced himself that his engagement was the right step forward.

Three years later, Taehyung and Sitara got married. Jungkook stood as Taehyung’s best man, delivering a heartfelt speech about their friendship and the love he’d seen grow between Taehyung and Sitara. He meant every word, even if it hurt a little.

“Here’s to the happiest couple I know,” Jungkook had said, raising his glass. Sitara had smiled at him then, a smile full of gratitude, and Jungkook told himself that letting go had been the right thing to do.

Two Years of Marriage.

Now, two years into their marriage, Taehyung and Sitara seemed perfect on the surface. They laughed together, held hands, and exchanged playful banter that made everyone believe in the idea of soulmates.

But Jungkook often wondered if perfection was just a facade. Behind the smiles, did they argue? Did they have regrets or doubts? He didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

[Flashback ends]

As the group settled into the lodge, Taehyung suggested a hike through the snow-covered forest. “Come on, it’ll be fun! We’ll get some great pictures.”

Jungkook nodded absently, his mind still clouded by the events of the night before. Minji had excused herself, claiming a headache, and stayed behind at the lodge. Jungkook didn’t argue. He was relieved to have some space. 

–

[Sitara's POV]

The trail ahead stretched endlessly, lined with tall trees blanketed in snow. The winter air was sharp, yet refreshing. Taehyung had insisted on the hike, claiming it would be the highlight of our trip. 

I had my doubts, but I kept them to myself, as I often did these days.

“Do you remember that time at the company retreat?” Taehyung asked, his voice tinged with amusement. “When Jungkook thought it’d be a good idea to climb the tallest tree he could find just to retrieve that drone?”

Jungkook chuckled, his deep laughter reverberating through the trees. “And I did get it, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but not before almost breaking your neck!” Taehyung teased. “Sitara was screaming at you to come down, and I was sure HR was going to make us sign a waiver on the spot.”

I smiled faintly at the memory. Those were simpler times when camaraderie came effortlessly. Yet, now, as I trailed behind, the weight of recent tension hung between us, unspoken but palpable.

“Speaking of challenges,” Taehyung declared suddenly, his pace quickening, “why don’t we make this interesting? First one to the top wins.”

“Wins what?” I asked, half-laughing but already dreading his competitive streak.

“Bragging rights, of course.” He turned to me with a grin. “Unless you’re afraid to lose?”

I rolled my eyes, but my unease grew. “Taehyung, this isn’t exactly the safest terrain for running. Let’s just enjoy the hike—”

"Why do you always have to ruin the fun, Sitara?" Taehyung snapped, his voice carrying an edge that cut deep.

"It's like you’re allergic to letting people enjoy themselves. I’m not a child who needs babysitting, so stop trying to mother me every chance you get.”

“I’m just saying it’s not safe,” I began cautiously, my tone soft, almost pleading.

“Safe? That’s your excuse for everything, isn’t it?” he shot back, his voice rising. “You always have to be the sensible one, the buzzkill. God forbid you let loose for once.”

Jungkook, who had been silent through our exchange, glanced back at me briefly, his expression unreadable. I wondered if he noticed the tension—or if he cared to.

As Taehyung bolted ahead, calling out over his shoulder for us to keep up, I let out a quiet sigh. The urge to confront him was strong, but I knew better. The last thing I wanted was to escalate the situation.

“You okay?” Jungkook asked, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

I hesitated before nodding. “Yeah, just tired, I guess.”

He didn’t push further, but something in his gaze lingered—a flicker of understanding, perhaps? It was hard to tell.

I watched as Taehyung bolted ahead, his competitive spirit igniting him like a flame. I called after him, my voice trailing behind his retreating form, but he didn’t seem to hear. His focus was entirely on the challenge, leaving me and Jungkook in the dust.

I felt my pulse quicken, an unease creeping up my spine as I struggled to keep up. The rocky terrain was unforgiving, and I wasn’t the most athletic person, but I pushed myself, telling myself to keep moving.

That’s when it happened.

My foot slipped on a loose stone, and I felt the ground beneath me shift. For a heart-stopping moment, I was airborne, losing my balance, my arms flailing in desperation to grab hold of something. I was about to crash when I felt a strong hand at my waist, pulling me up, steadying me.

Jungkook.

His grip was firm yet gentle as he steadied me, our faces only inches apart. 

For a few moments, the world seemed to stop around me. The crisp mountain air no longer felt cold against my skin, the distant sound of Taehyung’s voice became muffled, and all I could focus on was the gentle pressure of Jungkook’s hand around my waist. 

I was still sitting on the rock, my heart hammering in my chest, and for some reason, his touch felt different. Not just supportive, but… meaningful.

I hadn’t even realized that a strand of hair had fallen loose from my ponytail, brushing against my face, until Jungkook’s fingers gently brushed it away. 

His hand was warm against my cheek, his touch lingering a little too long, as if he was taking his time to savor the moment, his fingers softly tucking the stray lock behind my ear.

I froze.

Our eyes met in that instant.

There was no sound, no movement, just the quiet intensity of our gaze locked together. His eyes were dark, searching, as though they were trying to read every thought swirling in my head. And I… I couldn’t look away. It felt like a magnet pulling us closer, but we were already too close, caught in the space between us, where the distance didn’t matter anymore.

His hand lingered by my cheek, and I felt a strange warmth flooding my body, a softness I hadn’t felt in a long time. And then—just like that—he snapped me out of it.

“Sitara,” he said softly, his voice gentle, like he was trying not to disturb the fragile balance between us. His eyes softened, and for a moment, I saw something I hadn’t expected to see—something I couldn’t name but that made my chest tighten. “Are you okay?”

I blinked, trying to steady myself. The fog in my head cleared, and the reality of the moment hit me hard.

I quickly shifted away, looking down at my hands, trying to regain some semblance of control.

“I—I’m fine,” I stammered, my voice sounding weak even to my own ears.

Jungkook didn’t say anything, but there was a certain understanding in his eyes. His gaze never wavered, never faltered. He was waiting for me to snap back to reality, to get a hold of myself. And somehow, that made the air between us even thicker. I wanted to say something, to break the tension, but the words wouldn’t come.

After a few long moments of silence, he finally offered me his hand.

“Come on,” he said, his voice steady now, but still gentle. “Let’s get you back on your feet.”

I hesitated for a moment, still reeling from the intimacy of that brief exchange. His touch had felt so… different.

I took a breath and placed my hand in his. His grip was strong, firm, and he pulled me up with ease, his other hand steadying me by my waist.

“Better?” he asked, looking down at me, his expression softening.

I nodded quickly, but my heart wasn’t in it.

I tried to push myself up from the rock, but the second I put weight on my leg, the pain surged through my ankle. A sharp, twisting sting. I gasped, my whole body tensing from the sudden jolt. My vision blurred for a second as I wobbled, trying to balance myself. But I knew there was no way I could stand on it. I couldn’t keep pretending it didn’t hurt.

Jungkook’s hand was there almost immediately, steadying me. His expression softened as he knelt beside me, inspecting my leg.

“You’ve sprained it. Tough to walk on now," he said, his words simple, but they felt like they were made for something else.

I couldn’t help but wince, but not just because of the sprain. His words felt like an echo of something deeper. 

He’s not talking about just my leg, I realized. 

The sprain wasn’t the only thing hurting. 

There was something else, something he was picking up. He could see it, couldn’t he? He could see the injury that went beyond my ankle. The wounds that had been festering for months in my marriage.

I bit my lip to hide the truth that was spilling over, threatening to break through. I didn’t want to admit it. I didn’t want him to see the cracks in me that no one else had noticed.

“I’ll be fine,” I said quickly, trying to wave off the pain, but I knew it wasn’t true. Not just for my leg. Not just for my marriage either.

Jungkook didn’t push. He simply stood, his hand still lightly resting on my waist as he offered a solution.

“How about a piggyback ride?” he suggested with a slight smirk. “I’ll carry you.”

I shook my head, the pride in me too stubborn to let him do that. The idea of leaning on anyone was... well, it felt like weakness. I wasn’t weak. I had fought too hard for that.

“No, Jungkook. I can't," I said firmly. "I don’t want to burden you."

His gaze didn’t waver. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if weighing my words against the discomfort in my stance. Then he simply shrugged.

"Then let me offer you something else," he said, his voice lower now. 

"My shoulder."

There it was again. That subtle shift in the air. That unexpected intimacy that made my heart skip a beat. I felt his hand, like a silent promise, guiding me closer. 

I could feel the warmth of his body against mine as I rested my hand on his shoulder. 

His other hand settled gently on my waist, supporting me, and I could feel his strength in every movement.

And then we began to walk.

His hand on my waist, the way his shoulder pressed against my hand—everything about it felt too close, yet it didn’t feel wrong. It felt comforting, in a way. Too comforting. His presence was warm, solid. Like I could fall into it and forget everything else.

I shifted slightly, and my lips brushed against his cheek, just a hair’s width from kissing him. I pulled back, my heart thudding. Why did this feel so... natural?

He spoke softly, his voice low as he glanced at me. "So, how’s Taehyung been? You two seem distant.”

My heart dropped. The question felt too pointed, like he wasn’t just asking about Taehyung’s mood on this hike. 

He was asking about everything. 

About us. 

About the distance I tried to hide.

I tried to dodge it, to offer some excuse. “He’s just... enjoying himself,” I said quickly, forcing a lightness in my tone, but it felt empty. 

Even to me. 

I could see Jungkook’s eyes studying me, sensing the cracks I tried to hide.

His gaze didn’t waver. “It’s hard to pretend when it’s not true.”

How does he know….?

My heart skipped a beat thinking Jungkook already knows about my broken marriage.

“I mean, your leg. It's hard to pretend you're okay when it's not true. See. You're limping yet you're pretending to be fine.”

I winced at the unexpected sting of his words. 

They didn’t just apply to my ankle. 

I could feel it deep in my chest. His words—so simple, yet so sharp—were about more than just a sprained leg.

It was more than just me limping with my leg. He hinted so subtly at the limping marriage I'm having.

He continued, his voice gentle but with an edge that made it impossible to ignore. "This... it’s going to be tough. You can’t just ignore the pain, Sitara. Not when it’s this bad."

I closed my eyes for a moment, as if by doing so, I could block out the weight of what he was implying. My marriage wasn’t something I could just ignore either. Taehyung’s absence wasn’t physical, but it was becoming more unbearable every day.

Then, as I shifted again, a small hiss of pain escaped me. Jungkook glanced down, his hand tightening slightly on my waist.

He could feel it. The distance. The loneliness. My marriage was hurting more than my ankle.

"That leg," he said quietly, “it’s sprained, yes. But sometimes, we’re walking around with more than just a sprain, aren’t we?”

I froze. It felt like his words were not just about my injury but about me. About Taehyung. About the emotional sprain I had been carrying. I looked at him, my throat tight. He wasn’t just talking about a limp. He was talking about how I was limping through my marriage. How the weight of it had become too much to bear.

I leaned into him, not just physically, but emotionally too. And then, with a sigh, I finally let go of the weight I had been holding in.

“I don’t think Taehyung is holding on anymore,” I whispered, my voice small. “I feel like he’s... let go. He’s not with me anymore, not really. I don’t think he’s been with me for a long time.”

As the words left my lips, I felt the distance between us shrink in a way I didn’t expect.

You're holding onto me tighter than my own husband has in past few years…

“I know it’s hard,” he said softly, his voice full of understanding. “A marriage is a walk you take together. But if one person isn’t moving at the same pace, it’s impossible to move forward.”

And yet here you are…. Moving at the same pace I am moving at.

I sighed, the weight of his words settling on my chest. “I feel like Taehyung is running ahead. Always ahead of me. And I’m stuck here, trying to catch up.”

Jungkook’s grip tightened for a moment, and I could feel the pressure of his hand steadying me. His presence was more than just physical support. 

He was becoming a reminder, a contrast to everything I had lost.

“You don’t have to run alone,” he murmured, his voice a low promise. “Even if you’re walking at your own pace.”

When we reached the top, Taehyung was already sitting on a bench, munching on his snacks like he had all the time in the world. He looked up from his food when we approached, his eyes briefly flicking over to me. I was limping slightly, still feeling the strain in my leg, but his expression didn’t change.

“Seriously? What happened to you now?” Taehyung asked, not even bothering to look concerned.

I winced, but I wasn’t going to let him get to me. “I sprained my leg. Nothing new for me, though.”

He barely raised an eyebrow. “Great. Just what we need. More trouble.”

I wasn’t surprised by his reaction. It’s like he never really cared, not enough to even pretend to. But before I could snap back, Jungkook stepped in, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“Taehyung, don’t talk like that. She’s been through enough today.”

Taehyung just shrugged, his mouth full of food. “Whatever,” he muttered. “Not my problem.”

I glanced at Jungkook, who was trying so hard to maintain his calm, but I could see the anger simmering beneath his polite demeanor. For a moment, I just stood there, trying to ignore the bitterness rising in my chest. But I couldn’t. Not anymore.

Jungkook helped me sit down on the bench, his hand steady on my back. He didn’t look at Taehyung, but I could tell by the way he set his jaw that he was trying to keep it together.

I glanced at Taehyung again. His back was turned now, completely uninterested in anything but his food.

“Don’t let him get to you,” Jungkook said softly, sitting down beside me.

It didn’t make me feel better, but I appreciated it. He understood—he could see what I couldn’t deny any longer. This wasn’t working. Not for me. Not for either of us.
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A/n : 👀