[Taehyung's POV]

She left.

“Did I not trust you all these months hoping for you to come clean? Was that months long worth of pain and patience not enough for you?”, my heart broke as I uttered those words in silence.

Her footsteps echoed in the silence that now filled the space between us, leaving me standing there, drowning in my own thoughts. She didn’t even hear the last words I said. The last things I desperately needed her to hear.

I gave you space... Space to come clean.

But what was the point? She didn’t want to come clean.

I know you're lying. I have the proof. Yet you try to hide it as if it's not as clear as broad daylight. 

You lie.

You hide. 

You never think of me as fit enough to even confess the things that boggle you down and yet you expect to fix the relationship?

I closed my eyes, my voice catching in my throat, bitterness seeping into every syllable.

How will we fix the relationship when you can't even tell me about your infertility?

My words hung in the air, but they meant nothing if she wasn’t going to listen. She was already gone.

I stood there, the weight of everything crashing down on me. How many more lies? How many more secrets?

I gave you space, I told myself again, like a mantra. But you took that space and buried the truth deeper.

I had wanted to believe her. Hell, I had wanted to be the kind of man who didn’t care about secrets, who could forgive anything. 

But this? 

This was too much.

[FLASHBACKS]

It was a day like any other. The day I found the reports.

Sitara had been buried in work, a million things weighing her down, leaving me to manage the house alone. It was unusual for her to be so distant, but she always had a way of compartmentalizing, pushing everything away to keep functioning. 

But that day, I found the file.

It was tucked away, hidden in the back of her wardrobe behind a pile of clothes. I hadn’t meant to look, but curiosity gnawed at me when I saw the medical reports with her name on them. A part of me knew I should stay away, but the other part, the part that had been feeling her distance for weeks, couldn't help but pick it up.

I read the first line, and my heart stopped.

Infertility.

It felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. The words blurred as I tried to make sense of what I was reading. Her infertility report.

The date on the report was four months ago.

Four months.

She hid this from me... for four months?

I felt the walls close in around me. My hands shook as I held the paper, my breath shallow. I had known something had been off. I had known that we hadn’t spoken about the baby for so long, but this? This was the one thing that mattered most. And she had kept it from me.

How could you?

My chest tightened. How could you hide this from me, Sitara?

I sank to my knees, my emotions crumbling around me like fragile glass. The tears came—slow, uncontrollable.

I had thought that we were partners, that we shared everything, even the hard stuff. But this? She couldn’t even trust me with this.

I sat there, drowning in self-loathing. I’m worthless. I thought to myself. I’m not enough for her. She didn’t think I could handle it. She didn’t trust me enough to share this with me.

The anger built, but underneath it all was a deep, painful hurt. A hurt that sliced through me, leaving me hollow.

I stared at the report, the truth staring back at me, and I made a vow to myself that I wouldn’t let this slide. I couldn’t let it slide. Not after everything we had been through.

I won’t forgive you unless you come clean.

[FLASHBACK ENDS]

I let out a shaky breath, the memory still fresh in my mind, like a wound that never fully healed. The distance between us had grown since that day. 

Even though she had tried to make amends, even though she had tried to be there for me, I couldn’t let go of that betrayal.

I loved her. But this… this was something I couldn’t overlook.

Why couldn’t you just tell me? I asked myself, the tears rising once again. 

Why hide it?

I loved her so much, but this?

It wasn’t just the infertility. It was the fact that she hid it from me. That she couldn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. 

She had always asked for space, and I had given it to her. But now I saw it differently.

I’m not going to beg for it anymore.

I needed the truth. And until she gave it to me, I couldn’t—no, I wouldn’t—move forward. I couldn’t fix what was broken if she kept lying to me.

The thought of her lying to me, over and over, it ate at me. I wanted to believe in her. I wanted to believe in us. But how could I when everything felt like a lie?

She had lied about the infertility, lied about what happened between us, lied about everything.

I can’t trust you anymore, I can't give you any more trust than waiting patiently for you to confess. I whispered to myself. And I can’t fix this if you won’t come clean.

I had to keep my distance. I had to. Until she could face me, until she could give me the one thing I needed from her—the truth.

I couldn’t love a lie, and I couldn’t let her continue to hide from me.

Come clean, Sitara. Come clean or we’ll never fix this.

—--

[Jungkook’s POV]

The room was dimly lit, the bedside lamp casting a soft glow over Minji's pale face. Her brows were furrowed, even in her sleep, her body shivering despite the layers of blankets I’d tucked around her. The fever was relentless, and I had been at her side since the moment I realized she wasn’t well.

The cold compress was warm again. I reached for the bowl of water, wrung out the cloth, and carefully placed it back on her forehead. Her skin burned against my fingertips.

She stirred slightly, a faint groan escaping her lips. I immediately leaned closer, placing my hand on her arm. "I’m here," I said softly, hoping my voice might somehow ease her discomfort.

Her groan turned into a soft whimper, and she shifted, clutching her stomach. Without hesitation, I placed my hands gently over her abdomen, kneading the area in slow, deliberate circles. 

Time blurred as the hours dragged on. Every time the cloth warmed, I replaced it. 

Every time she stirred, I was there to comfort her. 

My back ached from sitting hunched over, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave her side.

At one point, her hands clenched into fists, and she mumbled incoherently. I held her hands in mine, rubbing them softly to soothe her. "Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you," I murmured, even though I knew she couldn’t hear me.

I didn’t dare close my eyes. 

I couldn’t. 

Not when she was like this.

By the time the clock read 5:00 a.m., her fever had finally broken. I checked the thermometer once more, sighing in relief when it read 98°F. Thank God.

Minji’s eyes fluttered open slowly, her lashes heavy with exhaustion. She blinked a few times, her gaze finally focusing on me.

"Jungkook?" she croaked, her voice hoarse and weak.

"Hey," I said, my voice soft. I reached out and patted her cheek gently. "You’re okay. Your fever’s gone down."

She blinked at me again, her lips twitching into a faint smile. "What time is it?"

"Just past five," I replied, stifling a yawn.

Her brows knitted together in confusion. "Did you… stay up all night?"

I nodded, leaning back slightly to stretch. "Yeah. You were burning up. I had to keep the compresses going and make sure you were comfortable.”

Minji’s eyes softened, guilt flickering across her face. "You didn’t have to do all that… but still, thank you.”

I waved her off, trying to play it cool despite the exhaustion weighing me down. "Don’t mention it. Just don’t get sick again, okay? You scared the hell out of me."

She chuckled weakly, and even that sound made me feel lighter. "I’ll try not to."

Her hand reached out, brushing against mine. "You should sleep now. You look… exhausted."

I yawned again, unable to hide it this time. "Yeah, maybe you’re right."

I stood, pulling back the blanket on my side of the bed. Too tired to bother changing, I loosened my belt, letting out a small sigh of relief before collapsing onto the mattress beside her.

—

[Minji's POV]

I could see the strain in the lines of his face, the dark shadows under his eyes, and the way his chest rose and fell unevenly as if even resting was a challenge.

He had stayed up all night taking care of me—changing the cold cloth on my head, massaging my aches, and whispering soft reassurances when my fever spiked. He was attentive, kind, and everything a husband should be. And yet, beneath my gratitude, a gnawing sense of desperation took root.

I couldn’t let this slip away.

I shifted slowly, careful not to wake him as I reached for my purse on the bedside table. My fingers found the small vial of MDMA tucked into the inner pocket.

A part of me hesitated, guilt clinging to the edges of my thoughts.

But then, I thought about the countless nights I had cried alone, longing for a child that would never come unless I took matters into my own hands. Jungkook wouldn’t understand—not yet—but this was for us, for the family we deserved.

I turned to look at him one last time, my heart twisting as he let out a soft, exhausted sigh. "I’m sorry, Jungkook," I whispered under my breath, the words barely audible even to myself. "You’ll thank me for this one day."

I poured a glass of water, my hands steady despite the turmoil in my chest. The tablet dissolved quickly, the liquid rippling as I stirred it with the tip of my finger.

"Jungkook," I said softly, "drink this before you sleep. It’ll help you feel better after staying up all night."

He stirred, his lashes fluttering open just enough to reveal his drowsy, half-lidded eyes. "Minji... you should rest," he murmured groggily.

"I will," I said, my voice calm, coaxing. "But you need to hydrate first. Come on, just a sip."

He groaned but sat up slightly, taking the glass from my hands.

He downed the water in a few gulps, handing the glass back to me before collapsing onto the bed again.

I watched him intently, my heart racing as the minutes ticked by. At first, he seemed peaceful, his body sinking deeper into the mattress. But then, his breathing quickened.

A sheen of sweat formed on his forehead, his hands twitching slightly as if trying to grasp at something unseen. His lips parted, and incoherent murmurs spilled out—broken fragments of words I couldn’t piece together.

"Jungkook?" I called out softly, feigning concern as I leaned over him.

He didn’t respond. His eyes flickered beneath his closed lids, his face contorting as if caught in some vivid, fevered dream.

I slipped out of the bedroom as quietly as I could, closing the door softly behind me.

The dining area was sparse, its rustic charm suited for the romantic couples who likely rented this cabin before us. I walked over to the fridge, my eyes catching the familiar box resting on top. A stash of condoms—untouched, clean, and neatly arranged in a small basket.

I almost laughed aloud at the irony of it. The cabin management must have placed them there as a thoughtful gesture, assuming their guests would make full use of their romantic getaway. 

But for us? 

For Taehyung and Sitara? 

The idea seemed laughable. Their relationship was in shambles, their silence louder than any argument could ever be.

Still, my gaze lingered on the box, a plan forming in the back of my mind. I reached up and grabbed the basket, placing it on the dining table. My hand instinctively went to the hem of my dress, where I’d tucked a small safety pin earlier in the evening.

Sitting down, I carefully pulled a condom from the stash, my fingers working methodically as I unpinned the sharp edge. I pressed it against the wrapper, poking a precise, invisible hole. Then another. And another.

The actions felt mechanical, my thoughts elsewhere as I worked. This wasn’t for Taehyung or Sitara. No, this was for Jungkook. I couldn’t afford for him to use one of these—not when I was so close to achieving what I wanted.

My lips curled into a bitter smile. Jungkook was meticulous about everything, especially when it came to protection. "STDs," he had once muttered with a faint scowl, tossing a box of condoms into a shopping cart. 

As if he were some reckless playboy who needed to worry about such things. The thought made me scoff now. 

STDs? 

How could he catch anything when he barely touched anyone, least of all me?

But I never understood why did he even buy condoms with me that one time when he never planned on having sex with me? 

Strange.

I finished poking holes in the entire stash, my movements steady, calculated. Once done, I placed the basket back on top of the fridge, ensuring it looked untouched. The perfect illusion.

But I wasn’t done yet. I grabbed one condom, tearing open the wrapper with exaggerated care. 

The latex felt flimsy in my hands, a useless barrier for a man who had built walls around himself stronger than any material. 

I rolled it between my fingers briefly before discarding it in the nearby trash bin, its presence almost mocking.

"Not like you’d actually wear it, Jungkook," I muttered under my breath, the corners of my mouth twitching with a hint of a smile.

I straightened up, smoothing my dress as I glanced toward the bedroom door. This wasn’t just desperation—it was survival. 

For me. 

For us. 

For the family I dreamed of having, even if it meant bending the truth into something unrecognizable.

With one last look at the room, I turned and walked back toward the bedroom. 

Cautiously, I began undoing the buttons of my blouse, one by one, trying not to disturb his slumber. Once I had removed it, I let it slide gently to the floor, followed by the rest of my clothes. I then approached Jungkook, who remained oblivious to my actions.

I slowly started undressing him, being extra gentle not to wake him up. His t-shirt came off easily, exposing his toned upper body. I took a moment to admire his physique before continuing with his pants. Once he was naked, I climbed onto the bed and positioned myself on top of him.

I couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment as I looked down at his small size. I had always imagined this moment to be different, more... satisfying. 

No matter how many positions we tried, I just couldn't feel him inside me. It was as if my body was rejecting him, and I couldn't understand why.

I had been trying for what felt like hours to get him in the right position, to feel him inside me in a way that made me feel connected to him, but it just wasn't happening. 

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to get him to penetrate me deeply enough, and the frustration was driving me to tears.

I glanced over at his sleeping form, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as he slumbered on. 

I knew he didn't understand what I was going through, what I was feeling. And doing it without his consent isn't something I enjoyed much, but I had no other option.

I could feel the last tremors of what we had just shared still vibrating through me.

It wasn’t about pleasure, not entirely.

I’d pressed, urging him closer, my hands finding purchase in the small of his back, needing that last surge, that final push. 

The sensation of the warm, thick fluid against my skin was both foreign and familiar, a physical manifestation of our bodies intertwined together. 

Now, I was off of him, the cool air a sudden shock against my skin. I lay back on the bed, my legs raised, angled towards the ceiling, a desperate offering to gravity. 

I could feel the warm, sticky fluid seeping down, a slow, agonizing progress. 

Would it be enough? 

Would it reach where it needed to? 

I closed my eyes, tracing the imagined route of those microscopic swimmers. I knew the odds were stacked against us. 

So many delicate steps, so many things that could go wrong. Each second felt like an eternity as I waited, willing nature to cooperate, willing the impossible to be possible.

The door knocks suddenly, cutting through the silence like a sharp edge. I freeze, just for a second, before gruffly mumbling, "Who the hell is that?"

I quickly gather the blanket around myself, wrapping it hastily around my body. I make sure to appear composed, even though inside, I'm anything but. I smooth my hair, quickly adjust my dress beneath the blanket, and walk toward the door. 

When I open it, I come face to face with Sitara. Her eyes immediately scan over me, concern written all over her face. She doesn't try to hide it, but her expression falters slightly when she notices how I stand there, still wrapped up in the sheets.

"Minji, how’s your fever? Why are you out of bed? Why didn’t Jungkook answer?" she asks, her voice tinged with worry.

I let out a soft chuckle, stepping back slightly to gesture toward the bed.

Her eyes immediately wander off to the bed where her eyes widen even more. 

Jungkook laid on the bed, naked, his toned torso on display and lower body covered in sheets.

He was sleeping.

Her lips part to speak, but nothing comes out. She’s caught off guard, visibly shaken, her hand trembling just slightly.

 “Oh, Jungkook? Yeah, he stayed up with me until five this morning. Took care of me—until we... well… things got heated up and we ended up having some nice warm wintry sex.”

—--