♡ Part - 37 ♡

Some of you may not like this chapter, so.. sorry in advance if I disappoint you guys🥺🙏

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At night, Yoongi, Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung returned to their home, from the airport

After freshening up, Yoongi prepared to head to the office, his mind already focused on the tasks ahead.

"I'll be back soon, baby," Yoongi whispered, his deep voice sending shivers down Jimin's spine.

Jimin nodded, still feeling a bit sleepy.

Yoongi smiled and headed out the door, leaving Jimin. As he walked to the office, Yoongi felt invigorated, ready to tackle the challenges of the day.

Little did he know, this day would bring its own set of surprises...

The house was quiet. Too quiet.

Jimin sat on the bed, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the edge of the blanket as his thoughts spiraled. The past week in Switzerland replayed in his mind like a film—scenes flashing before his eyes.

The breathtaking views from the mountains, the peaceful boat rides, the dinners under the warm glow of candlelight. The way Yoongi had taken care of him, held him when he was cold, guided him through crowded streets with a protective hand on his waist. The gentle way he had touched him, the way he had whispered reassurances in his ear whenever he felt overwhelmed.

It was all so… confusing.

How could a man like him—someone cold, ruthless, a mafia leader—treat him with such care?

Jimin pressed his fingers against his temples, shutting his eyes. No, this is wrong. I can’t think like this.

Yoongi wasn't just a man who had taken him on a trip or held him when he was scared. He was a murderer.

He had killed Kai.

Jimin’s hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. Kai was a monster, that was true. He had tried to force himself on him, had nearly destroyed him. Maybe he deserved to be punished.

But not like that.

Not with his body left cold and lifeless in some alley. Not with his death staged like it was just another street fight. That was the law’s job, not Yoongi’s.

Yet, Yoongi had done it without hesitation. Because that’s who he is. A killer. A mafia boss.

Jimin's stomach twisted as he thought back to their very first encounter.

That night in the bar. The way Yoongi had looked at him like he was nothing more than something to own. The way he had dragged him away, taken him against his will, made him his without a second thought.

Even now, he was still trapped in this world. Still under Yoongi’s control.

So why was he feeling soft toward him?

Jimin shook his head violently, as if trying to shake the thoughts away. No. I can’t do this. I can’t be weak. I can’t forget who he really is.

His husband wasn't some caring man. He wasn’t kind. He didn’t love him.

Yoongi only wanted him—his body, his submission. That was all.

Jimin took a shaky breath, gripping the sheets beneath him. "I hate him," he whispered, as if saying it out loud would make it true.

But then why…

Why did his chest feel so heavy? Why did the memory of Yoongi’s soft touches make him feel warm? Why did he feel like something inside him was breaking apart?

Jimin hated him.

Didn’t he?

Like this he slept.

The morning sun streamed softly through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the bedroom. The air was crisp, carrying the lingering scent of fresh soap and cologne.

Jimin sat before the mirror, his delicate fingers smoothing lotion over his legs, the cool touch grounding him. His white, silky shirt clung lightly to his damp skin, the upper buttons left undone, revealing a teasing glimpse of his collarbones and soft chest. His black shorts barely reached mid-thigh, the fabric hugging his skin just enough to be comfortable.

He wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, just lost in the rhythm of his morning routine.

Behind him, on the bed, Yoongi stirred. A deep breath, a slight shift under the covers, and then his eyes blinked open. The world was still hazy with sleep, his mind slow to process his surroundings. But then—

His gaze landed on Jimin.

And suddenly, Yoongi was wide awake.

Jimin was mesmerizing.

Sitting in front of the mirror, completely unaware of the effect he had, his damp hair clinging to his forehead, his lips slightly parted. The soft morning light kissed his skin, making it look even more delicate—almost glowing. His bare thighs were smooth, inviting, the way they shifted slightly with every small movement sending an unfamiliar warmth through Yoongi’s chest.

For a moment, Yoongi simply watched.

Watched the way Jimin’s hands glided over his skin, the way he pushed his damp hair back, his fingers grazing the exposed curve of his neck.

It was hypnotizing.

Without even realizing it, Yoongi moved.

Silent as a shadow, he rose from the bed and stepped forward, drawn to Jimin like a force beyond his control. He came to a stop just behind him, his presence looming, his breath steady yet deep.

Jimin, sensing the shift in the air, caught the movement in the mirror and turned abruptly. His eyes widened slightly, surprised to find Yoongi standing so close—closer than usual, closer than necessary.

"Yoongi—" Jimin started, but before he could question him, Yoongi moved again.

With slow, deliberate intent, Yoongi reached out, his fingers gently curling around Jimin’s wrist, pulling him up and against his chest.

Jimin stiffened, his hands instinctively pressing against Yoongi’s chest to create space. But Yoongi didn’t let go.

His grip was firm, yet not forceful—possessive, yet careful.

His dark eyes softened as they traced Jimin’s features, taking in every little detail—the flutter of his lashes, the way his breath hitched, the way his lips glistened as if still damp from his shower.

A thumb brushed against Jimin’s cheek, his touch light as a feather.

"You're beautiful," Yoongi murmured, almost in awe.

Jimin swallowed, his heart thudding painfully against his ribs. No. No, this isn’t right.

But then—

Yoongi’s grip tightened around his waist, drawing him closer until their bodies were pressed together. His other hand slid up, resting against the nape of Jimin’s neck, his fingers tangling lightly in his damp hair.

Jimin barely had a second to react before Yoongi leaned in.

The touch of Yoongi’s lips against his was soft, testing, careful—like he was tasting something he had been craving for far too long.

Jimin froze.

His breath hitched, his body betraying him by standing still for a split second too long.

But then—

Reality hit.

A sharp pang shot through his chest, his mind screaming at him.

No.

With a force he didn’t know he had, Jimin shoved Yoongi away.

Yoongi stumbled back slightly, caught off guard. His eyes widened, shock flickering through them.

But Jimin—

Jimin was furious.

His breathing was heavy, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His gaze burned with something raw, something Yoongi couldn't quite decipher.

And then, without a word—

Jimin turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Leaving behind a bewildered Yoongi, standing in the middle of the room, wondering what just went wrong.

After the tense moment in the bedroom, Yoongi forced himself to move on with his morning routine. His hands went through the motions—showering, getting dressed, slipping on his watch—but his mind was elsewhere. The memory of Jimin pushing him away replayed like a broken record, leaving a dull ache in his chest.

He didn’t eat breakfast. He didn’t bother seeking out Jimin before leaving. Instead, he grabbed his coat and left for the office, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing in the quiet mansion.

With Yoongi and Jungkook gone, the house felt emptier. Jimin and Taehyung sat in the living room, enjoying their rare alone time.

“Let’s go out,” Taehyung suggested suddenly, stretching his arms lazily. “We’ve been stuck inside too much.”

Jimin glanced at him. “Where?”

“The mall, obviously,” Taehyung said with a grin. “We can shop, eat, and just… have fun. No husbands, no stress.”

Jimin hesitated but eventually nodded. Maybe he needed a distraction.

And so, they found themselves strolling through the grand mall, weaving through stores, trying on clothes, and laughing over the most ridiculous outfits. Jimin felt lighter than he had in days.

After a few hours, they finally decided to head back.

“I’ll go get the car,” Taehyung said, tossing the shopping bags into Jimin’s hands with a smirk. “You wait here, my dear prince.”

Jimin rolled his eyes but stayed back, shifting the bags to one hand as he leaned against a pillar near the exit.

That’s when he saw her.

A little girl—no older than six—standing at the edge of the road, her tiny feet inching forward.

Jimin’s heart stilled.

His eyes darted up, and his stomach dropped at the sight of a speeding car approaching her.

Without thinking, he moved.

“Hey—!”

His body reacted before his mind could process the danger. Sprinting forward, he reached her just in time, scooping her up as they tumbled onto the opposite side of the road.

The car sped past, honking loudly, but it was too late—it would’ve hit her.

Jimin’s breathing was harsh, his heart hammering in his chest as he pulled the girl into his arms.

“Are you okay?” he asked urgently, scanning her tiny face for any sign of injury.

Tears welled up in her big brown eyes, but she nodded. “Mhm…”

A frantic pair of footsteps approached.

“My baby!”

A woman knelt beside them, eyes filled with tears as she reached for her daughter. Jimin gently handed the girl over, his legs throbbing as he did so.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” the mother sobbed, holding her child close. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if—”

“She’s safe,” Jimin cut in, his voice soft but firm. “That’s all that matters.”

It was only then that he felt the sharp sting in his leg. He looked down, wincing at the sight of his scraped knee, blood trickling down.

He barely had time to process it before an annoyed voice called out.

“Park Jimin!”

Jimin turned to see Taehyung rushing over, his face twisted with concern.

“What the hell just happened?” Taehyung demanded, gripping his shoulders.

Jimin let out a shaky breath. “I—I just… She was about to get hit,” he mumbled. “I couldn’t just stand there.”

Taehyung exhaled sharply. “And now you’re hurt, dumbass.”

Jimin laughed weakly. “It’s just a scratch.”

Taehyung didn’t look convinced, but with the little girl now safe and the parents profusely thanking Jimin, there wasn’t much else to do.

“Come on,” Taehyung muttered, guiding Jimin toward the car. “Let’s get you home before Yoongi finds out and throws the city into chaos.”

Jimin snorted but let himself be led away.

By the time they arrived back at the mansion, the sun was beginning to set. Jimin sank onto the couch, letting out a sigh. His leg still ached, but the pain was dull now.

“That was reckless,” Taehyung muttered beside him, handing him a water bottle.

Jimin took it with a grateful nod. “I know.”

“…But it was also really brave,” Taehyung admitted, a soft smile on his lips. “That little girl’s parents will never forget what you did today.”

Jimin looked down at his hands, feeling warmth spread through his chest. “I just… did what anyone would do.”

Taehyung scoffed. “Not everyone would’ve thrown themselves into traffic like that, you idiot.”

Jimin chuckled, but the moment was short-lived as Jungkook walked in, checking his watch.

“Babe, we need to go,” Jungkook reminded Taehyung. “The meeting’s in fifteen minutes.”

Taehyung groaned. “Right. Shit.”

Jungkook turned to Jimin, his sharp eyes immediately catching the way he was sitting stiffly. “Are you okay?”

Jimin forced a small smile. “Just a little accident. Nothing major.”

Taehyung quickly explained what happened, and Jungkook frowned, clearly unimpressed with Jimin’s reckless heroism.

“You should get that cleaned up,” Jungkook said with a sigh. “Don’t just sit there.”

“We’re already late,” Taehyung added apologetically. “I would’ve helped, but…”

Jimin waved a hand. “Go, go. I’ll handle it.”

Taehyung still looked hesitant, but Jungkook tugged at his wrist. “We’ll be back soon,” he assured.

And with that, they left.

Now alone in the quiet mansion, Jimin exhaled, slumping against the couch. His leg throbbed, but it wasn’t unbearable.

Jimin was still on the couch, his injured leg aching, but the pain in his heart weighed heavier. The house was quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock, each second stretching into eternity.

Then, a knock on the door.

Despite the discomfort, Jimin pulled himself up and limped toward the entrance. When he opened it, he found Yoongi standing there, looking as composed as ever—yet there was something in his eyes, something unreadable.

Yoongi’s gaze quickly dropped to Jimin’s leg. The second he saw the blood staining his skin, his face changed, his usual calmness replaced by concern.

“What happened, baby? Are you okay?” Yoongi stepped inside quickly, his brows knitting together.

Jimin turned away without answering and started limping back to the couch. But before he could reach it, Yoongi was already beside him, steadying him by the arm and helping him sit down gently.

“Tell me,” Yoongi demanded, his voice softer now.

Jimin sighed, brushing it off. “It’s nothing. Just a small accident. You don’t have to worry.” His tone was flat, distant, as if he was talking to a stranger.

Yoongi didn’t like that.

“No, Jimin, it’s bleeding.” Yoongi knelt before him, reaching for the first-aid box on the table. “Let me take care of it.”

Jimin wanted to protest, but the words never came. Instead, he watched as Yoongi carefully lifted his leg onto his lap and began cleaning the wound.

His hands were so gentle.

It confused Jimin. This was the same man who had kidnapped him, who had held a gun without hesitation, who had killed a man without blinking. And yet, here he was, tending to his wounds like he was the most fragile thing in the world.

Jimin swallowed hard. No. This is fake. He doesn’t care.

But Yoongi did.

After applying the ointment and bandaging the wound with delicate precision, Yoongi finally looked up, his lips parting as if to say something.

Then, it happened.

Yoongi stood up too fast, his leg hitting the edge of the table. He stumbled forward, and before he could catch himself, he fell onto Jimin—his lips accidentally pressing against Jimin’s.

A kiss.

Brief, unintentional… but real.

Jimin’s breath hitched. His heart raced. But the shock turned into anger in a second, and he pushed Yoongi away—hard.

“How dare you touch me like that?!” Jimin snapped, his voice sharp as a blade.

Yoongi blinked in confusion, taking a step back. “Jimin, it was an acc—”

“Oh, I know what it was!” Jimin cut him off, his eyes burning with fury. “You think you can have your way with me whenever you please? Oh, right, because you’re the great mafia boss! You can do whatever the hell you want, can’t you?”

Yoongi’s jaw tensed. “Jimin, that’s not—”

“No! You listen to me,” Jimin’s voice rose, trembling with rage. “You don’t love me. You don’t care about me. You just want my body, don’t you?”

Yoongi’s eyes widened, his expression shifting from confusion to something deeper. Something painful.

“You think I only want you for that?” he whispered, almost disbelieving.

Jimin let out a bitter laugh. “What else would you want? Love? Affection? Don’t make me laugh, Min Yoongi.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “A mafia boss like you can’t love. All you know is how to take, how to own, how to destroy.”

Yoongi opened his mouth to argue, but Jimin wasn’t done.

“How many others have you forced?” Jimin’s voice shook, his anger turning into something dangerously close to despair. “How many people have you used and discarded? How many people have you killed without remorse?”

Yoongi took a step closer, his voice quieter but firm. “I’ve never forced anyone. And I’ve never used you, Jimin. I—”

“Enough.” Jimin’s hands trembled as he reached for his shirt. In one swift motion, he pulled it off and tossed it aside, standing bare-chested before Yoongi.

“Isn’t this what you want?” Jimin spat, his eyes filled with challenge. “Come on, Suga. Take what you always take.”

Yoongi’s breath hitched, horror flickering across his face.

He took a step back.

Jimin froze.

Yoongi… stepped back?

Yoongi—who was supposed to be cruel, possessive, obsessed—looked at him not with hunger but with devastation.

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, Yoongi bent down and picked up Jimin’s discarded shirt, gently draping it back over his shoulders. His hands trembled as he buttoned the top for him.

“Don’t do this,” Yoongi murmured. His voice was rough, thick with emotion.

Jimin swallowed, suddenly unsure. “You—”

“I don’t want your body, Jimin,” Yoongi whispered, his voice breaking. “I want you.”

Jimin’s lips parted, but no words came out.

Yoongi exhaled shakily, stepping back. He ran a hand through his hair, and that’s when Jimin saw it.

Tears.

Tears in Yoongi’s eyes.

Jimin had never seen Yoongi cry before.

The sight of it—of Min Yoongi, the terrifying mafia boss, looking so broken—made something in Jimin’s chest twist painfully.

Yoongi turned away, his hands curling into fists.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I never wanted you to feel like this.”

Then, without another word, Yoongi walked out of the room.

Jimin stood frozen, his anger dissolving into something unrecognizable.

At that moment, he realized something terrifying.

He had never seen Yoongi look so hurt before.

And it was because of him.

As Yoongi walked outside, he wiped at his eyes quickly, not wanting anyone to see. But just as he reached the gates, he saw someone standing there.

Hoseok.

Their eyes met, but neither of them spoke.

Hoseok had heard everything. He had seen the tears in Yoongi’s eyes.

For the first time, Hoseok saw not the mafia boss, not the cold leader—but a man who was in love.

And breaking apart because of it.

Yoongi didn’t say anything. He just walked past Hoseok, disappearing into the night.

Meanwhile, inside, Jimin sat on the couch, his mind spinning, his heart aching.

And for the first time, he wondered if he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Hoseok had witnessed many things in his life, but never this.

Never had he seen Min Yoongi—his friend, his leader—stand with tears brimming in his eyes. It was a sight so rare, so unimaginable, that it shook Hoseok to his core.

His fists clenched as his gaze flickered from Yoongi’s retreating figure to Jimin, who sat frozen in place. His face was emotionless, but Hoseok could see the subtle tremble in his fingers, the unspoken storm brewing within him.

The silence was suffocating. Then, Hoseok’s anger erupted.

"How dare you, Jimin?" Hoseok's voice sliced through the quiet, sharp with rage. "How dare you spew such disgusting accusations at him? As his husband, how could you utter such vile words? Do you even realize what you’ve done?"

Jimin blinked slowly, his expression unreadable. Then, with an apathetic shrug, he replied, "Oh, so you heard everything. Good. He deserves to hear the truth. And what did I say that was so wrong? I merely stated facts about him."

Hoseok’s anger flared hotter. His eyes darkened as he took a step forward. "Facts?" He scoffed. "What do you really know about him, huh?"

Jimin let out a dry chuckle. "I know enough." His voice was bitter. "He's a mafia boss. A murderer. A man who coerces people for his own desires. What else is there to know?"

Hoseok’s jaw clenched. His patience snapped like a brittle thread.

"Yes, he's a mafia boss," Hoseok admitted, his voice steady despite the fury simmering beneath it. "Yes, he's a killer. But he's never forced anyone for his desires. Do you even understand why he became what he is? Do you know who he fights against?"

Jimin’s expression didn’t change, but he remained silent.

Hoseok didn’t hold back. "He eliminates smugglers, human traffickers, rapists—all the worst criminals. He works with the police, providing them information that no one else can get. He risks his life to take down people who truly deserve it. He does it to protect others—including you."

Jimin flinched, just barely, but Hoseok caught it.

"And let me make one thing clear," Hoseok continued, his voice firm. "Yoongi has never touched anyone else. Never loved anyone else. He’s never cared about anyone beyond his family and…" He took a deep breath. "You."

Jimin's fingers curled slightly on his lap.

Hoseok stepped closer, his anger now mixed with something heavier—sorrow. "You are the first person he has ever loved like this, Jimin. He’s madly in love with you. And yet you accuse him of things he’s never done. You accuse him of being a monster when all he’s ever done is protect you."

Jimin’s breath caught. His heart pounded.

"You don’t deserve him." Hoseok’s words cut through him like a blade. "Do you remember the days he searched for you when you ran away? Do you know how heartbroken he was? He barely slept. He barely ate. All he wanted was to find you. To make sure you were safe."

Jimin's vision blurred as memories flashed in his mind.

Yoongi searching for him, his exhaustion evident in his dark-circled eyes.

Yoongi saving him from Kai, the sheer desperation in his voice when he called his name.

Yoongi tending to his wounds, handling him with so much care it made Jimin’s chest tighten.

The walls Jimin had built around his heart suddenly felt fragile, ready to crumble at any second.

Hoseok’s voice softened, but his disappointment remained. "He regrets hurting you, Jimin. Regrets forcing you into this marriage. But the one thing he doesn't regret? Loving you."

Jimin bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears stinging his eyes.

Hoseok sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Just tell me one thing," he said. "Why do you hate him? Is it because he loves you? Because he cares for you? Just be honest. Answer me, why?"

The words rang in Jimin’s ears. They echoed in his chest, forcing him to confront emotions he had buried deep inside.

Why did he hate Yoongi?

Was it really hate?

Jimin opened his mouth, but no words came out. He didn't have an answer.

Hoseok exhaled sharply. "You’re silent now." His voice was filled with disappointment. "Well, you don’t need to answer me. I already know the truth."

Jimin lowered his gaze, shame creeping in.

Hoseok took a step back, his voice quieter now. "You made a mistake today, Jimin. And you’ll regret it."

Jimin clenched his jaw, the weight of his own actions pressing down on him.

Hoseok turned toward the door but paused before leaving. He hesitated, then spoke one last time. "In any case… be happy, Jimin. And take care of yourself."

Jimin looked up, confused.

Hoseok sighed. "Because if Yoongi sees you in pain, it’ll hurt him more than anything else."

With that, Hoseok walked away, leaving Jimin sitting alone in the silence, his heart heavy with regret.

For the first time, Jimin realized…

He had hurt the one person who had only ever wanted to love him.

The door had barely closed behind Hoseok when the room fell into a deafening silence.

Jimin sat frozen, his mind spinning, his heart pounding violently against his ribs.

The weight of Hoseok’s words crashed over him like an unforgiving tide, each syllable striking a wound he hadn’t realized existed. The truth unraveled before him, exposing the ugly reality of his own actions.

He had misunderstood.

He had accused.

He had hurt.

His breath hitched, his chest tightening painfully.

The image of Yoongi’s teary eyes, the sheer heartbreak in them, flashed in his mind.

Yoongi had cried.

For the first time.

Because of him.

A choked sob ripped from his throat as Jimin collapsed to the ground, his body trembling violently. His hands clutched his chest, trying to hold together the pieces of his breaking heart.

Tears streamed down his face uncontrollably, blurring his vision. Shame curled around his throat, suffocating him, refusing to let go.

What have I done?

The words he had thrown at Yoongi, the accusations, the bitterness—each one now felt like a dagger twisting inside him. The memory of Yoongi’s stunned silence, his pain, his desperate attempt to explain—it all played in his head like a cruel reminder of his own cruelty.

His fingers dug into the floor, his nails scratching against the wood as he gasped for air.

He had pushed Yoongi away.

He had accused him of something so vile.

He had hurt the one person who had only ever wanted to love him.

Another sob racked his body as guilt consumed him whole.

How could I?

He thought about everything Yoongi had done since their marriage.

The way he had taken care of him after the kidnapping.

The way he had never once forced him into anything after that day.

The way he had saved him from Kai.

He loved me.

Jimin’s heart clenched as fresh tears escaped his eyes. He had been so blinded by his fears, by his own insecurities, that he never truly saw Yoongi for who he was.

Not a heartless mafia boss.

Not a monster.

Not someone who only wanted his body.

But a man who had fallen for him.

A man who had given him a love so deep and unwavering.

A man who had always chosen him, despite everything.

Jimin clenched his fists, his body shaking violently.

He wanted to turn back time.

He wanted to take back his words.

He wanted to run after Yoongi, hold him, beg for forgiveness.

But the fear gripped him.

What if he won’t forgive me?

The thought shattered him further.

He didn’t deserve forgiveness.

He had broken Yoongi in a way that no enemy, no rival, no threat ever had. He had done something no bullet, no wound, no battle had ever managed to do.

He had made Min Yoongi cry.

The thought was too much to bear.

His vision blurred further, his body growing weak. His sobs turned into silent gasps as the exhaustion of his emotions weighed heavily on him.

His head spun.

His body swayed.

And before he could do anything, the world around him faded into darkness.

Jimin crumbled onto the cold floor, unconscious, drowning in the regret that consumed him.

---

Yoongi sat in the dimly lit office, the glow from his cigarette the only source of light in the vast, empty room. Tendrils of smoke curled in the air, mirroring the chaos swirling in his mind.

His heart ached. The pain was unbearable, suffocating.

Every word Jimin had spat at him earlier played on a loop, like a cruel reminder of his worst fears.

"You don’t love me. You only want my body."

"A mafia boss like you can't possibly understand love."

"How many others have you used and discarded?"

Yoongi inhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut, but the words wouldn't leave him.

They tore through him, ripping apart the carefully constructed walls around his heart.

His fingers trembled as he lifted the cigarette to his lips again, taking another deep puff, hoping—praying—that the nicotine would dull the pain.

But it didn’t.

Nothing did.

A shaky sigh left him as he rubbed his temple, exhaustion creeping into his bones.

“I think I made a terrible mistake,” he whispered into the silence, his voice hollow.

His own words felt like a confession, a burden he had carried for too long.

“By forcing myself upon him… by kidnapping him… I stole his dreams, his freedom. I should have never—”

He couldn’t finish the sentence.

Guilt gnawed at him, eating him alive from the inside.

For the first time, he truly questioned himself.

Had he ever really deserved Jimin?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the office door opening.

Hoseok stepped inside, his usual composed expression replaced with anger and concern.

He had been there earlier, at the gate. He had seen Yoongi’s tears—the ones Yoongi had fought so hard to hide.

And that image…

That image of Min Yoongi, the man feared by the underworld, breaking down because of love—because of Jimin—infuriated Hoseok.

“No, Yoongi.” His voice was sharp, laced with frustration. “You’re not the one at fault here. He doesn’t deserve you. He never truly cared about your love and care. He’s the mean one.”

Yoongi chuckled bitterly, shaking his head.

“No, Hobi.” His voice cracked slightly, but he steadied himself. “I don’t deserve him either.”

He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke disappear into the air.

“He deserves happiness.”

A pause.

A heavy, suffocating pause.

Then—

“I think it’s time to let him go.”

The words settled between them, cold and final.

Hoseok’s eyes widened. “Let him go?”

Yoongi turned his gaze away, staring at the city lights through the window. “I want a divorce.”

The word sent a chill down Hoseok’s spine.

Divorce.

This wasn’t just a heated decision made in the spur of the moment. This was Min Yoongi—a man who never backed down, never let emotions cloud his judgment—accepting defeat.

Choosing to walk away.

Hoseok clenched his jaw. “Yoongi, are you serious?”

Yoongi nodded, his expression void of emotion, though his heart screamed in agony.

“Yes.”

A deep breath. A final decision.

“Please arrange the divorce papers as soon as possible.”

Then, without another word, Yoongi stood up.

His movements were slow, tired, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

Hoseok, still reeling from the shock, managed to ask, “Where are you going?”

Yoongi grabbed his coat, throwing one last glance at the empty office before replying, “I have some matters to attend to.”

His voice was calm. Too calm.

“Take care of the office while I’m gone.”

And just like that, he walked out, leaving Hoseok behind, clutching his phone, already making the dreaded call.

The call that would begin the process of severing the one bond Yoongi had fought so hard to keep.

The golden rays of the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over Jimin’s face. His eyelids fluttered open, his body still sluggish from exhaustion. For a moment, he simply lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions that had engulfed him the night before.

Then, it all came rushing back.

The confrontation with Hoseok.

The weight of his own words.

The unbearable guilt.

The way his knees had given out, his body collapsing under the weight of his emotions.

Jimin's fingers instinctively curled around the blanket.

He vaguely remembered Jungkook lifting him, his voice filled with concern, as he placed Jimin in bed.

A sigh escaped his lips.

Before he could dwell on it further, the sound of the front gate creaking open reached his ears. Moments later, Taehyung stepped inside, carrying a bag of food in one hand and a coffee cup in the other.

Spotting Jimin awake, he let out a relieved breath and quickly set the breakfast tray on the bedside table before sitting down beside him.

"Chim, how are you feeling now?" Taehyung's voice was soft, filled with concern. "What happened last night? Jungkook found you lying on the floor and had to carry you to bed. You scared us."

Jimin sat up slowly, his head still a little heavy. "My head was spinning… I guess I fainted," he murmured.

Taehyung frowned. "And Yoongi hyung? Where is he?"

Jimin hesitated. A familiar pang of sadness settled in his chest. "I… don't know," he admitted.

Taehyung's brows furrowed. "Hasn't he come home all night?"

Jimin shook his head. "No. I have no idea where he went."

A flicker of worry crossed Taehyung’s face, but he masked it quickly. Instead, he reached over to squeeze Jimin's hand. "Don’t be sad. He’ll come back."

Jimin nodded but remained quiet.

"Freshen up and eat before your breakfast gets cold," Taehyung urged, standing up to adjust the tray. Just then, the door opened, and Jungkook stepped inside.

"Tae! There you are!" he called out. "I’ve been looking everywhere for you."

Taehyung rolled his eyes. "I told you I was bringing breakfast for Jimin."

Jungkook huffed before turning his attention to Jimin. "How are you feeling now, Jimin?"

Jimin forced a small smile. "Better, Kookie."

Then, hesitating for a moment, he asked, "Do you… do you know where Yoongi hyung is?"

Jungkook exchanged a quick glance with Taehyung before answering. "Actually, he messaged me. He said he's traveling for work and will be back in a week."

Jimin blinked. "He messaged you?"

Jungkook nodded. "Yeah. Didn’t he tell you?"

Jimin lowered his gaze. "No… he didn’t."

Taehyung and Jungkook exchanged looks again.

"Maybe he forgot to mention it?" Jungkook suggested, trying to reassure him.

Jimin forced another nod. "Yeah… maybe."

But deep down, it didn’t feel like Yoongi had simply forgotten.

It felt like something else. Something that unsettled him.

As Taehyung and Jungkook prepared to leave for their shoot, they each hugged Jimin before heading out, promising to check on him later.

Left alone in the quiet house, Jimin couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in his chest.

Something wasn’t right.

And the thought of Yoongi leaving without a word…

It left a gnawing ache inside him.

Jimin sat on the bed, his gaze unfocused as his mind drifted to one person—Yoongi. The weight of his husband's absence pressed down on him like an invisible force, making it difficult to think of anything else.

His fingers gripped the edge of the blanket as his thoughts spiraled. Where is he? Why did he leave so suddenly without telling me?

A part of him feared the worst—what if Yoongi resented him now? The thought sent a sharp pang through his heart. He had been cruel, throwing accusations at the man who had done nothing but protect him, care for him.

His heart ached.

If Yoongi hates me now… I don't think I can bear it.

Jimin inhaled shakily, determination settling in his chest. I need to fix this. I need to apologize. I need to show him that I—

His thoughts halted.

Did he even deserve a second chance?

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jimin wiped at the tears that had unknowingly slipped from his eyes. He refused to let his emotions get the best of him again. He needed to stay strong.

With newfound resolve, he carefully swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The lingering ache in his leg made him hesitate, but he gritted his teeth and pushed forward.

The moment he stood, a sharp pain shot through him, making him stumble slightly. He clenched his jaw, regaining his balance before slowly making his way toward the bathroom.

After completing his morning routine, Jimin settled at the dining table for a quiet breakfast. The food tasted bland, his appetite dulled by the constant worry gnawing at him.

His fingers hovered over his phone for a moment before he dialed a familiar number.

The call connected almost instantly.

"Jimin-ah! How are you, my baby?" Jin's warm voice greeted him.

A small smile tugged at Jimin’s lips. "I'm okay, appa," he replied, his voice softer than usual.

Jin, ever the observant one, immediately caught on. "Hmm, you don't sound okay. What's wrong?"

Jimin hesitated. He wanted to talk about Yoongi, about his worries and regrets, but he wasn’t sure how to put them into words. Instead, he sighed.

"I just… missed hearing your voice," he said honestly.

Jin chuckled. "Aigoo, my precious son. You can call me anytime, you know that, right?"

"I know," Jimin whispered.

They talked for a while—about random things, about Jin's day, about Jimin's well-being. The conversation brought him a small sense of comfort, but the ache in his heart remained.

After hanging up, exhaustion finally caught up with him. He retreated to his room, curling up on the bed. His eyelids felt heavy, and before he knew it, sleep claimed him.

By the time Jimin woke up, the sun had begun its descent, casting an orange glow over the city. He rubbed his eyes, groggily sitting up before making his way downstairs.

Just as he reached the living room, a sudden knock on the door startled him.

His heart skipped a beat.

For a second, he dared to hope—Is it Yoongi?

With hurried steps, he opened the door, only to be met with the familiar faces of Taehyung and Jungkook.

"Jimin-ah!" Taehyung greeted with a bright smile before pulling him into a tight hug.

A warmth spread through Jimin’s chest. "You guys came."

Jungkook smirked. "Of course. We couldn’t leave you alone to mope all day."

Jimin rolled his eyes but let out a small laugh.

The evening passed with laughter, teasing, and shared stories over dinner. For a while, Jimin allowed himself to relax, the presence of them easing some of his anxieties.

As the night deepened, they bid each other goodnight before heading to their respective rooms.

Jimin lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thoughts of Yoongi creeping back into his mind. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Where are you, Yoongi?

With a heavy sigh, Jimin finally closed his eyes, sleep pulling him under.

But even in his dreams, Yoongi never left his thoughts.