[Present]

The dim lighting of the bar buzzed with the chatter of other patrons, but Taehyung and Minji sat at a small table in the corner, their voices a mix of sarcasm and bitterness.

The story just narrated by Taehyung had led to more bitterness filling inside the 2 of them.

“You know, Tae, there were moments when I seriously thought Jungkook and Sitara were having an affair behind my back,” she said, her voice half-amused, half-wistful.

Minji raised an eyebrow, leaning in. “Right. She was working overtime, drowning in everything, and I was sitting there wondering if those two were having some kind of secret office romance.”

She paused for a moment before continuing, “And Jungkook, I remember him talking about hiking her salary. At the time, I thought he was just screwing her over, you know, making her more dependent on him. But now… well, maybe he was just supporting her after all.”

Taehyung’s lips curled again, this time more sharply. “Who knows, maybe they were screwing each other in the office and the extra hours and salary was just a bonus for her to continue fucking Kook. I mean, if his whole insecurity act might just be a cover-up to keep that little thing going with her. It wouldn’t surprise me.”

Minji snorted into her drink. “Oh, absolutely. He acts like he's got everything under control, but I can see right through him. He's so obsessed with her, it’s like he can’t function without her. Didn't you see the way he was so caring for her ankle sprain? God, if he ever did that much for me, I'd wash his feet and drink the same water.”, she scoffed.

Taehyung nodded, a bitter edge in his voice. “And me? I’ve got nothing to hold onto anymore. My business was in shambles. I couldn't even get out of bed some days because I was too damn proud to admit how much it’s killing me inside. And my wife? Never cared to ask me if I'm doing okay or not. Never cared to even look back and care for my dreams.”

“I just… I thought she would be there for me. I was drowning, Minji,” Taehyung whispered, his voice trembling with frustration. 

“I kept sinking, and I wanted her to hold me up, just a little… but all she did was fight with me, rub the reality of our mess in my face. All I wanted was some comfort… But no, she just kept telling me I wasn’t doing enough. I… I didn’t need to hear that, not then. I needed her.”

“I understand, Tae,” Minji finally said softly, “I understand how that feels. I feel that every single day. I wish for nothing more than for my husband to just see that all I want is for him to understand me. But he’s always too busy, too insecure, too wrapped up in his own head to even notice me sometimes.”

Her words were a mirror to his own pain. She wasn’t just empathizing; she was feeling what he was feeling. 

It was as if they were trapped in the same storm, both of them desperately reaching out, but neither able to pull the other to safety.

“Sometimes I wonder… what did we do wrong, Tae? Why is this happening? We’re both trying, but it’s like our partners don’t even see us. They don’t see the sacrifices we’re making. The pain we’re hiding. It’s like they think everything is fine, that we’ll always be here, but they don’t understand how much it hurts.”

Taehyung closed his eyes, the tears finally falling freely now. His chest heaved with a mix of sorrow and anger. “Exactly… Why? What did I do? All I wanted was her comfort. All I wanted was her by my side when I needed it most. But she just… she pulled away from me. She left me to fend for myself, even when she could see how much I was breaking inside. She put her work before me, before us.”

Minji reached across the table, her hand gently placing itself over his. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Tae. Neither of us did. It’s just… sometimes, people don’t see us for who we are. They get caught up in their own worlds, and we’re left fighting for the scraps of their attention.”

Tae’s eyes welled up, his voice barely a whisper. “And now… I don’t know if I can ever forgive her for what happened. I… I don’t know if I can ever trust her again. The thought of raising a family with her… it just hurts. Every time I think about it, I wonder if we’ll ever be able to have that. After everything, after what she did, I don’t know if we can even try.”

“I just… I don’t know what went wrong. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

Minji gently ran her hand through his hair, her voice soothing as she spoke the words they both needed to hear. “It’s not you, Tae. It’s them. Sitara, Jungkook… they couldn’t see you for what you are. For what I am. You’re not the problem. They are.”

Tae pulled back slightly, “But… if they couldn’t see me, what does that make us? What does that make all the years we spent together?”

Minji met his eyes, her voice quiet but firm. “It makes us the victims of their blindness. Their selfishness. Their insecurities. You can’t change that, Tae. But you can choose to stop letting them define your worth.”

Taehyung sighed, swirling his beer in the glass. “Yeah, I guess we’ve all got our reasons. But it doesn’t make it any easier, does it? They keep doing their thing, while we’re stuck here, drinking our frustrations away.”

Minji looked at him for a long moment, her eyes sharp. “No, it doesn’t. But you know what? Maybe we’re better off, Tae. Maybe we should just take a page from their book. Screw it. Let them keep living their fairy tale. Why don't we create ours?”

—-

[Minji's POV]

“Maybe we should just take a page from their book. Screw it. Let them keep living their fairy tale. Why don't we create ours?”

Taehyung froze, his eyes wide with what I could only describe as mild panic. He coughed, his beer almost spilling out of the glass. “Wait,” he stammered. “What do you mean by our fairytale?”

I blinked, realizing how my words must’ve sounded. “Oh no, not like that!” I said quickly, raising my hands as if to ward off his assumptions. 

“God, no. I’m not talking about...cheating or anything.” I could see his shoulders relax slightly, though his expression remained cautious.

“What I mean is…” I paused, searching for the right words. “Maybe we’ve been looking at this all wrong. We’re so fixated on healing with the people who broke us that we forget healing doesn’t have to come from them. Sometimes, healing comes from finding someone who understands what you’re going through—even if they’re not your spouse.”

He looked at me skeptically, so I continued, “You know how they say two broken pieces can sometimes create something new? Like a mosaic. Individually, the shards are sharp and painful, but when you piece them together with care, you can create something beautiful. That’s what I mean. We’re both broken right now, but maybe we can help each other feel...whole again. Not as lovers, but as friends who just get it.”

He nodded slowly, his expression softening as he leaned back in his chair. “So, you’re saying...we focus on ourselves? Forget about the mess at home for a while and just...be?”

“Exactly,” I said, smiling at his understanding. “Think about it. Why does healing have to be a solitary journey or one that’s tied to the people who hurt us? Maybe this—this beer, this conversation—can be a way for us to escape the monotony of life. To remind ourselves that there’s more to us than being someone's neglected partner.”

I took a deep breath, feeling a weight lift as I spoke. “This doesn’t have to mean anything more than two people choosing to prioritize themselves for once. Like…imagine our lives as a garden. Right now, it’s overgrown with weeds—resentment, distrust, disappointment. Instead of waiting for our partners to help us pull them out, why not just plant new seeds elsewhere? Build something vibrant and beautiful, even if it’s temporary.”

Taehyung looked down at his glass, his fingers tracing the rim thoughtfully. “That’s...an interesting way to put it,” he murmured. “But you’re right. Sharing this with you feels...lighter. Less suffocating.”

I nodded, leaning in slightly. “That’s all I’m saying. Let’s heal together—not by leaning on each other romantically, but by giving ourselves the freedom to breathe. To laugh. To be human again.”

He raised his glass, a small smile tugging at his lips. “To breathing, then. And to forgetting the world for a little while.”

I clinked my glass against his, a sense of calm washing over me. For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel alone in my pain.

—--

Taehyung and I strolled through the bustling marketplace in Hokkaido. The beer buzz made everything feel softer, almost dreamlike. The twinkling fairy lights strung between the wooden stalls cast a warm glow, and the laughter of strangers felt oddly comforting. 

We paused at a vendor selling warm custard buns. Taehyung bought two, handing one to me without asking if I wanted it. 

I took a bite, the warmth of the custard spreading through me as I looked up at the glittering lights strung between the buildings. It was simple, but it felt significant in a way I couldn’t quite articulate.

As we rounded a corner, I caught sight of a tiny photobooth tucked between two bustling stalls. It was one of those old-school ones with a red curtain and a glowing “Photos” sign. 

My steps faltered, and I found myself staring at it, my thoughts drifting somewhere I didn’t want to go.

[FLASHBACKS]

It was our first trip to Tokyo as husband and wife, and the city had been nothing short of magical. The bright lights, the bustling streets, and the endless energy—it felt like a perfect place to celebrate the start of our forever. 

I remember skipping down one of the narrow alleys with Jungkook trailing behind me, his hands stuffed in his coat pockets. 

He looked so effortlessly handsome, his head slightly tilted down as if he was in his own world.

I, however, was on cloud nine. When I spotted the photobooth tucked in a corner, my eyes lit up. “Jungkook!” I squealed, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward it. “We have to take pictures! It’ll be so cute, like a memory to keep forever.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking at the small booth. “You really want to do that?”

“Of course!” I chirped, pushing him gently toward the red curtain. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Reluctantly, he followed me inside, his tall frame awkwardly squeezing into the tiny space. I plopped down first, patting my lap playfully. “Okay, your turn. Sit here!”

Jungkook laughed nervously, shaking his head. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s cozy. Isn’t that what couples do in these tiny booths?”

Hesitant but compliant, he shifted forward, lowering himself just as I adjusted to sit more comfortably. But the second my weight settled onto his lap—more specifically, onto his crotch—he stiffened like a deer in headlights. Without warning, he jolted up, bumping his head against the ceiling of the booth.

“Jungkook, what the—” I started, but he was already out of the booth, leaving the curtain swinging behind him.

Confused and more than a little embarrassed, I quickly followed. Outside, he stood with his back to me, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Jungkook,” I called softly, “what just happened? Why did you… run off like that?”

“I don’t know,” he muttered, not meeting my eyes. “I just don’t like…these kinds of couple things.”

“What do you mean, ‘couple things’?” I asked, frustration creeping into my voice. “It was just a silly picture, Jungkook. I wanted to sit on your lap. Is that such a big deal?”

He sighed, glancing at me briefly before looking away again. “I’m not into it, okay? It’s just not my thing.”

I wanted to press further, to dig into the real reason behind his sudden reaction. But something in his tone warned me to let it go.

[FLASHBACKS OVER]

I felt my chest tighten with a mix of anger and sorrow.

Now, it all made sense. He wasn’t avoiding the idea of couple pictures or lap-sitting because he found it silly. 

He was insecure—so painfully insecure about his body, about his crotch, that he couldn’t even share such a basic, intimate moment with me.

I clenched my fists, bitterness swirling inside me like a storm. For years, I had tried to excuse his coldness, his distance, convincing myself that maybe he just wasn’t the romantic type. But this? 

This was a different kind of rejection, one I hadn’t fully grasped until now.

How many moments like this had I been denied? 

How much love, how much warmth, how much simple affection had I gone without because of his insecurities? 

“Minji?” Taehyung’s voice pulled me back. I blinked, turning to find him standing in front of me, his head tilted in curiosity. He snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Minji. Where’d you go?”

“Oh, nowhere,” I said quickly, waving a hand as if to dismiss his question. “Just…thinking about how these photobooths are such a rare find these days.”

He squinted at me, clearly unconvinced. “Bull. You looked like you were having some sort of existential crisis over there. Spill it.”

I hesitated, my gaze flickering back to the photobooth. “It’s silly,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “I always wanted to take pictures in one of these with Jungkook. You know, just something fun and spontaneous. But he…” I trailed off, biting my lip. “He wasn’t really into the idea.”

“Why not?” Taehyung asked, leaning against the stall beside me. “Too cool for photobooths?”

“Not exactly,” I replied, my voice tinged with bitterness. “He didn’t like the idea of me sitting on his lap. Said it was uncomfortable, not worth the effort.” I let out a soft laugh, though it lacked humor. “I guess I wanted something simple, and he wanted…everything else.”

His expression shifted, softening in a way I hadn’t expected. “You wanted to take pictures there, didn’t you?”

I nodded hesitantly, unsure of where this was going. “It’s nothing important.”

“Hmm,” he murmured thoughtfully, before taking a step forward. “Why does it have to be nothing?”

“What?” I blinked at him, confused.

Taehyung glanced at me over his shoulder, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Come on,” he said simply, jerking his head toward the photobooth. “Let’s do it.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What? No, Taehyung, I didn’t mean—”

“You’ve wanted this for a long time,” he interrupted, his tone steady but warm. “Why not now?”

I hesitated, my feet rooted to the ground. “It’s supposed to be…a couple thing,” I stammered, the memory of Jungkook’s rejection making my chest tighten.

Taehyung’s smile softened into something almost wistful. “Does it have to be?” he asked quietly. Then, with the slightest tilt of his head, he added, “This isn’t about that. It’s about you getting to do something you’ve dreamed of. And…if you’re okay with it, I’d like to help you make that happen.”

There was something in his voice—something earnest and genuine—that made me feel like I was floating. 

It wasn’t just about taking pictures. 

It was about being seen, understood, and supported in a way I hadn’t been in years.

Taehyung stepped into the booth, his tall frame somehow fitting comfortably into the tiny space. He sat down and leaned back slightly, then looked up at me with a playful glint in his eyes.

“So,” he said, patting his lap, “do you want to do this with me?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken layers of meaning. 

My breath caught, my heart pounding wildly as I stared at him. It wasn’t a romantic gesture—at least, not overtly.

But the care in his offer, the way he didn’t make me feel foolish or selfish for wanting something so simple, made it feel like more.

Slowly, I nodded. My legs felt shaky as I stepped into the booth, the space suddenly feeling smaller and warmer than it had moments ago.

Taehyung waited patiently, his hands resting casually on his thighs. I hesitated for only a second before lowering myself onto his lap, the awkwardness quickly replaced by a rush of butterflies as I felt his steady presence beneath me.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice close to my ear.

I nodded again, unable to speak. My cheeks burned, and my stomach flipped as I heard the shutter of the camera click, capturing the moment. 

For the first time in years, it felt like someone had granted me a piece of my own fairytale.

And, for the first time in years, I felt something close to happiness.

The cabin's warmth contrasted sharply with the cold tension between us. Jungkook sat across from me, his injured hand now properly bandaged, yet his eyes reflected a different kind of pain—one that mirrored my own.

"Isn't it strange," I murmured, my gaze fixed on the flickering flames, "how the same fire that warms us can also cause such harm?"

Jungkook paused, his attention piqued. "What makes you say that?"

I shrugged, attempting to dismiss my own words. "Just thinking aloud."

He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Sitara, I've noticed things... subtle, but telling. Like during the climb, when Taehyung snapped at you for hesitating. You laughed it off, but I saw the hurt in your eyes. And when he left you alone with that sprained ankle, you seemed more than just physically pained."

I blinked at him, startled by the accuracy of his observation. “Are you always this good at reading people?” I asked, trying to deflect.

His lips curved into a faint smile. “Not people,” he said quietly. “You. I’ve known you long enough to read your face like a book.”

I felt my cheeks flush, and I turned my gaze back to the fire. He didn’t need to know that his words struck something deep within me.

“You’re imagining things,” I lied, my voice shaky.

“Am I?” he countered, leaning back slightly but keeping his eyes on me. “You’ve never been this stressed around Taehyung before. What’s going on?”

I forced a smile, though it didn't reach my eyes. "People change, Jungkook."

"True," he said softly, "but the Sitara I know wouldn't let someone treat her this way without reason.”

I looked away, the weight of his words pressing down on me. "When was the last time you saw me and Taehyung together?" I asked, changing the subject.

He frowned, thinking. "Last year, during the Hokkaido trip. You were... radiant. Your double shifts had ended, and you seemed genuinely happy with him."

A bitter chuckle escaped my lips. "That was us trying to mend things."

Realization dawned in his eyes. "I remember how he laughed when you surprised him with that impromptu dance in the snow. It was the happiest I'd seen you.”

I nodded, tears threatening to spill. "It was a facade. We were both trying so hard to fix something that was already broken. The distance, his absence… and when he was there, he didn’t understand me. He didn’t try to. And…. The more I tried to get closer to him, the more he hurt me.”

Jungkook’s gaze didn’t waver. “But there’s more to it, isn’t there?”

I froze.

How could he read me so easily? 

I hesitated, unsure of how to begin. The walls around me, the ones I’d carefully built up over the years, felt so fragile now, so easy to tear down. 

And yet, I couldn’t hide anymore.

I took a shaky breath. “It was... a promise, you know? I told Taehyung that once everything was back on track, we'd try having a baby again. We were hopeful, after everything we'd been through...” My voice faltered. “But then, I went for a routine check-up. You remember?”

I saw Jungkook’s brow furrow. 

Understanding his confusion, I began, “Remember that day when Minji was so upset. She came to the office, furious with you for not responding to her calls. She was heading to her gynecologist appointment too, right? And remember I joined her because I was also having irregularities in my menstrual cycle?”

"We had both gone for our check-ups that day. She was diagnosed with PCOD, and I thought… I thought maybe that’s what I had too. You know, just something that could be treated. A little hormonal therapy, maybe a few adjustments, and it’ll be okay."

I stopped. 

The weight of what came next nearly crushed me.

“But then…” My breath caught, and I could feel the tears building up in my eyes. “The gynecologist told me I couldn’t have children. She said my uterus lining... it was weak. It wouldn’t affect my health, but it meant I couldn’t become a mother. She told me I was infertile.”

The words stung as they left my mouth, and I could barely breathe, my chest tight with the heaviness of it all. I could see the look in Jungkook’s eyes, but it didn’t matter. 

Nothing mattered.

I felt so... small. Like I was nothing. Like I was broken.

I closed my eyes, trying to push the overwhelming flood of emotions back, but they surged anyway. "You know, a few days before that, I had talked to Taehyung about the baby again. I could already picture the life we were going to have—our little family..." I swallowed hard, the sob catching in my throat. 

"And then... then I found out I could never have it. I could never give him that dream."

I clenched my fists in my lap, the tears finally spilling over. "I thought I was enough, you know? I thought... I thought if I loved him enough, everything would fall into place. But now..." My voice broke, and I couldn’t stop the words. 

"Now I’m just broken. I can’t give him that. I can’t give him a child.”

I let out a bitter laugh, the sound empty and hollow. My chest tightened as I wiped the tears off my face, but I couldn’t stop them from flowing. They came like a river breaking through a dam, unstoppable.

“You know, Jungkook,” I said, my voice shaky but somehow laced with a bitter humor, “that wasn’t even the worst part.”

He gave me a confused look, but I could see the worry in his eyes.

“I kept it from him. For a while, I didn’t tell Taehyung. He was already going through so much. His work, failing business, the stress, everything. I didn’t want to add to his burdens. He didn’t need to know right away. So, I kept it to myself.” 

My fingers trembled as I reached for the blanket, clutching it tightly as though it could stop the torrent of emotions that were threatening to drown me.

“But last year, when we came to Hokkaido…” I paused, trying to steady my breath, my heart hammering in my chest. “We had finally come to a point where I thought, maybe, things were finally looking up. I thought, maybe, this could be the time when everything between Taehyung and me would fall into place. The business was doing better, I was done with my double shifts, we were spending more time together… I thought we were finally going to be happy. But then…”

I swallowed hard, trying to get the words out without breaking completely.

“But then, just before the trip, I found my medical reports. In His drawer.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened in confusion. “He found them? But you hadn't told him yet, right?”

I shook my head, my voice quiet. “No, I didn’t tell him. Not yet. But I saw the reports in his drawer… he already knew. And I—I didn’t know how to feel. I couldn’t even process it. The man I loved, the one I was trying to rebuild things with, had already known. He had already seen the report, and he’d been keeping it from me… But why?”

I stopped there, my chest constricting as the pain surged once more. “Why hadn’t he told me? Why didn’t he say something?”

I could feel Jungkook’s gaze still on me, soft and intense, waiting for me to keep going.

“I—I thought it was because of my work,” I continued, my voice cracking. “He had been upset about me working double shifts, about the time I spent away from him, but… it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t just my work. It was my infertility. I realized then—he wasn’t just avoiding me because of my job. He couldn’t look at me without seeing that report. I wasn’t just a wife. I was a woman who couldn’t give him what he wanted.” I paused, tears running down my face. “I was broken. And I hated myself for it.”

The words felt like daggers piercing through my chest, and I could barely breathe between them.

“But Taehyung… he didn’t even look at me the same way. I could see it. I could feel it. Every touch, every word—it was all different. Cold. It was as if when I tried to mend things, he withdrew. I thought maybe we'd have a chance to fix things, but it felt like the more I tried, the more he pulled away.”

My voice cracked as I whispered, almost to myself, “I wasn’t just failing him. I was failing me.”

“I can’t even blame him,” I muttered, wiping my face again. “I get it, now. He looked at me and saw everything I couldn’t be. I could’ve been more, I should’ve been more. I should’ve been able to give him that life… the family, the children, the happiness… But I couldn’t.”

I let out a humorless laugh, the tears still flowing freely. “I thought, once we came to Hokkaido, things would be better. But he was already so disgusted by me. I could see it. I could feel it in the way he avoided me, the way he spoke to me, the way he treated me like I was some sort of stranger. And that—that hurt more than anything. Because, if I wasn’t a woman to him, if I couldn’t be what he needed me to be, then what was I? What was I to him?”

“I was never enough, Jungkook. And that’s why he pulled away. It wasn’t just the work; it was me. It was everything that I couldn't give him. And I couldn’t even talk to him about it because I didn’t know how to fix it. I couldn’t fix me.”

The words fell out like a confession. A release of everything that had been choking me for so long.

“I’m so fucking angry with him, Jungkook,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I hate him for treating me like this, for seeing me differently, for making me feel like I’m not even worthy of being loved. But at the same time, I know I’m part of the problem. I don’t know how to fix any of it. I just don’t know.”

I wiped my face with the sleeve of my shirt, but the tears still wouldn’t stop flowing. It felt like everything I had built in my life, my relationships, my self-worth, was crashing down. I wasn’t enough for Taehyung, I wasn’t enough for anyone. My mind kept repeating the same thought: 

You’re broken. You’re unworthy.

And yet, Jungkook just sat there, quietly listening, his eyes filled with something that was hard to read. I wanted him to say something, to make me feel better, but all he did was sit in silence. 

His silence wasn’t awkward, though. 

It was comforting. 

He didn’t interrupt my storm, didn’t try to fix me—he just let me unravel, piece by piece.

After a long pause, he suddenly stood up, his gaze never leaving me. He stretched out his hand toward me.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice soft but determined.

I blinked at him, confused. “Where are you taking me?”

He didn’t answer directly. Instead, he just gestured for me to follow him. I hesitated for a moment, still unsure of what he was planning, but something in his eyes made me stand up and follow him, my feet moving almost on their own.

We walked through the cabin in silence, past the cozy little kitchen, through the living room, and into a small storage room at the back.

I didn’t recognize it at first, but there was something about the quiet, dimly lit space that felt different. 

Jungkook went to the far corner and grabbed a box that was sitting on a shelf. He didn’t speak until he turned around and handed it to me.

I looked at the box in my hands, puzzled. It was a small, weathered thing. The wood was chipped, and the corners were slightly bent. It looked old, like something that had been around for years.

“What is this?” I asked, my fingers running over the rough edges.

“Open it,” Jungkook said gently.

I hesitated for a second but then opened the box.

And there it was — a tarnished compass.

Its brass surface was worn, the glass slightly cracked, and the needle trembled, uncertain of its direction. Yet, there was an undeniable aura of resilience about it.

“What is this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“This,” Jungkook began, his tone thoughtful, “is a compass I’ve had for years. It’s not much to look at, is it?”

I nodded, observing the imperfections—the scratches, the faded markings, the needle that seemed to waver between directions.

He smiled softly, as if anticipating my thoughts. “It’s been through a lot. Dropped, scratched, and sometimes, it points in the wrong direction. But despite all that, it still serves its purpose.”

I looked at him, puzzled. “But it’s broken. How can it still be useful?”

Jungkook chuckled softly, a warm sound that seemed to fill the room. “Exactly. It’s not perfect. But it still guides me. Even when the needle wavers, it reminds me of where I want to go. It’s not about being flawless; it’s about having a direction, a purpose.”

I felt a lump form in my throat. “So, you’re saying I’m like this compass?”

He nodded, his eyes meeting mine with a depth of understanding. “Yes. You’ve been through challenges, faced uncertainties, and felt lost at times. But that doesn’t diminish your value. Like this compass, you have a purpose. You guide those around you, even when you feel uncertain.”

I frowned. 

Jungkook sighed, exasperation flickering in his eyes, but there was still a softness in his expression, a tenderness that told me he wasn’t giving up on me. 

Not yet.

“Still not convinced, huh?” He said, shaking his head as if he had been expecting this. He picked up the old compass from the table and handed it back to me. 

“You’ve got to admit, it’s a pretty good metaphor.”

I stared at the compass in my hand, my thumb tracing the cracked edges. I could see the truth in his words, but something inside me still refused to accept it. My heart felt heavy as I let out a bitter laugh.

“It doesn’t make sense to me,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “In the end, the compass is just broken. No matter how much you try to fix it, it’s still useless. It can point somewhere, guide someone else... but for the one who owns it? It’ll never work for them. It’ll never lead them where they want to go.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering through the frustration in his gaze. “You really do have a way of twisting everything I say, don’t you?”

It wasn’t that I didn’t understand his point—it was that I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was just like this compass. No matter how much I tried to fix myself, no matter how much I pushed through the pain, there was always a part of me that remained broken. And that part would never be useful, never work for anyone—not even for me.

Jungkook sighed dramatically, placing his hand on his forehead as if he couldn’t bear to argue any longer. “It’s impossible to make you understand sometimes, isn’t it?” 

“Alright, fine, my dearest. Let me show you something else then. Since you’re so hell-bent on being difficult and I'm hell bent on not letting you wallow in this sadness.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, skeptical but curious. He was already moving toward the door, and I hesitated for a moment before following him.

“Where are we going?” I asked, my voice unsure as I trailed behind him.

He didn’t answer immediately, but I could hear the faintest chuckle escaping him as he led me out of the cabin and into the cold evening air. The chill brushed against my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the cabin, and I wrapped my arms around myself instinctively, hoping that whatever he was planning would make some sense of all this.

We walked for a few minutes in silence, until he stopped by a large, gnarled tree. I looked at him, confused.

“Sitara,” he said softly, a quiet authority in his voice that made me stop and pay attention. “Look at this tree.”

I glanced up at the twisted branches, noticing the way the bark was peeling away in places, how it seemed like the tree had been through a lot. I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to see, but I stayed quiet, waiting for him to explain.

“Do you see this branch here?” Jungkook pointed to a section where a large, cracked branch jutted out at an odd angle.

The branch looked like it had been broken, but had somehow stayed attached. It was strange, unbalanced even, but it wasn’t completely lifeless. “It’s a broken branch. Same as the compass, it has cracks. But unlike the compass, this branch didn’t give up on the tree. It didn’t stop growing.”

Jungkook stood there, watching me, his eyes full of quiet concern. I wasn’t sure if he was getting frustrated with me or if he was just... helpless. 

His lips were pressed tightly together, his hand tugging at the collar of his shirt as he waited, just waiting for me to understand.

I stared at the broken branch on the tree. 

It wasn’t much. 

Just a simple part of the tree, snapped in half. 

I wasn’t even sure why I’d touched it. 

I kept turning it around in my fingers, running my thumb along the rough edges, like maybe I could fix it somehow.

But I knew I couldn’t. It was beyond repair.

Jungkook took a deep breath, as if preparing to say something, and I could see him trying to find the right words. 

“Sitara, it’s... just a branch,” he said gently. “It’s been broken. Yes. But... it’s still part of the tree. It’s still connected. It’s still got purpose.”

I looked at him, but I didn’t respond. 

I didn’t know what to say. 

He was trying so hard to help, to make me see things differently, but the truth was, I didn’t feel like I had any purpose anymore.

He took a step closer, his voice lowering, almost like he was trying to soothe me, though I wasn’t sure how he was able to do so. 

“I know you don’t feel like it right now, but you’re not broken, Sitara. You’re still here. You’re still growing.”

I felt the tears prick at the back of my eyes again, but I held them back, tightening my grip on the branch which my hand touched.

The more he spoke, the more I wanted to cry. 

It wasn’t the words that were hurting, but the fact that they made me realize how much I’d been keeping inside. 

The way I felt... useless. 

Like I had nothing to give anymore.

And the worst part - what made me cry more was that he somehow heard my thoughts. 

Because what he responded next, felt like he read my thoughts and answered for me.

He could communicate with my feelings so well ….

“You think you’re useless because you’ve been hurt, but you’re not. You don’t just give up because something’s broken. You don’t stop because you can’t see the end. Look at the trees. Look at the flowers. They grow even after storms, even after being stepped on. You’re like them. You can grow again, Sitara. You can find your place. You just have to believe that you’re not beyond it.”

I felt my chest tighten at his words. 

He wasn’t just talking about the branch anymore. 

He was talking about me.

He was talking so fast now, his words tumbling out one after another. It was like he couldn’t stop himself. “I keep trying to make you understand, but I don’t know how else to say it! It is hurting me to see you in pain, Sitara. I can't bear to see you this way and I don't know what to say anymore to take this pain away from you.”

I stood there, watching him—really seeing him. 

And suddenly, all the noise, all the confusion, the frantic rush of my life—Taehyung, the distance, my work, the pain—just... stopped. 

For the first time in what felt like forever, my mind wasn’t racing.

I wasn’t thinking about what I’d lost or what I hadn’t been able to fix. 

I wasn’t thinking about the days when Taehyung and I barely spoke or how I’d felt abandoned by him, even though I had tried so hard to make everything work.

I had thought I was regaining myself when my double shifts ended. 

I had believed that everything would fall into place, that I could breathe again, but deep down, I knew something was still off. 

My heart was restless. 

It kept searching, but for what?

And now, here I was—hearing him, really hearing him, for the first time. 

His words weren’t just noise. 

They were everything.

I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling his words sink deep into me, each syllable quieting the storm inside.

Jungkook stopped his rambling, realizing I wasn’t replying, and his gaze softened. He was so... earnest, so raw. 

And that softened my heart even more. It was as though he understood me, better than I understood myself.

Without thinking, I closed the distance between us, taking a step forward, then another, until I was standing right in front of him. 

I reached out slowly, my fingers brushing lightly against his chest, and he looked at me, surprised, but he didn’t step back. 

He let me.

My heart was pounding in my chest as I lifted my face to his. 

I leaned in, and before I knew it, my lips were gently on his.

It was soft. 

So soft. 

Almost like a whisper.

For a moment, the world around us vanished. 

There was no pain, no past. 

There was only him, and the way he made me feel, calm and safe. 

Like I wasn’t alone anymore.

—-