Chapter 15
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The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway as Jimin shoved a bag under his bed and frantically pulled open his mother’s bedroom door.

The room was quiet, untouched by the chaos outside, but it felt colder now.

He barely glanced at the pristine space, his eyes immediately locking onto the drawer where the cash was kept.

Jimin swallowed hard. This was real. This was happening.

His hands trembled as he yanked open the drawer, scattering papers as he grabbed fistfuls of bills—any and every document that could help them.

Anything that would keep him and Kyara safe. His heart hammered in his chest, but his mind felt numb.

He wasn’t sure if what he was doing was the right thing, but there was no turning back now.

Kyara appeared in the doorway, her face pale, her hands shaking as she held onto the only other bag she had.

She’d packed everything she could fit, but there was still that look in her eyes—the kind of look that screamed uncertainty and fear.

“Jimin…” she said softly, her voice barely audible over the rush of their frantic movements.

“Are you sure? I mean, are we really doing this? Can we really leave everything behind? Everything we’ve ever known?”

Her question hung in the air like a weight neither of them wanted to face.

But they had no choice. The thought of staying—of living another day under the thumb of their toxic families—was a death sentence in itself.

Jimin’s stomach twisted painfully as he stuffed the last of the bills into his bag, his fingers brushing over the documents that represented his escape.

The final traces of his old life.

“We don’t have a choice, Kyara,” Jimin muttered, his voice tight. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he turned to face her.

She looked so small in the dim light of the hallway, so fragile. “We’re running away from all of this. From our families, from the people who’ve hurt us. We can’t stay. Not anymore.”

Kyara nodded slowly, but Jimin could see the hesitation in her eyes. She wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe they could be free, but the reality of it was terrifying.

“Let’s go,” Jimin said, breaking the silence, his voice hardening with resolve. There was no more time for second thoughts.

They rushed out of the room, barely acknowledging the housekeepers standing nearby, their gaze wide with confusion as they watched them leave.

Jimin didn’t care.

Not anymore.

He grabbed his phone, dialing Sebastian without a second thought. His trusted driver.

The only one who had ever treated him like he mattered.

“Sebastian,” Jimin said, his voice clipped, desperate. “I need you to take me and Kyara to the hotel. Don’t ask any questions.

And for God’s sake, don’t tell my parents. They don’t know where I am or where I'll be going.”

The line was silent for a long moment, but then Sebastian’s voice came through, calm and understanding.

“Understood, Master. I’ll be right there.”

“Thank you,” Jimin whispered, the words catching in his throat.

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Moments later, the taxi pulled up outside, and Jimin and Kyara climbed in, their bags pressed tightly between them.

Sebastian, with his usual quiet demeanor, glanced at Jimin in the rearview mirror.

“Have a good life, Master. You deserve it,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Jimin gave him a brief nod, a lump forming in his throat as he realized how much this driver had meant to him all these years.

Sebastian had been the one constant in his life. The only person who’d never judged him. Except kyara of course.

As the car sped through the streets, Jimin couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of the end.

They were going to a hotel, but it was more than just a place to sleep. It was their sanctuary, their first step into the unknown.

Moments later, the taxi pulled up outside, and Jimin and Kyara climbed in, their bags pressed tightly between them.

Sebastian, with his usual quiet demeanor, glanced at Jimin in the rearview mirror.

As he slowed to a stop, he and Jimin exchanged a look in the rearview mirror—a silent exchange, full of unspoken words.

It was a look that said everything without a single word being uttered. A glance of understanding, of loyalty, and of sorrow.

Jimin knew Sebastian could see the fear in his eyes, the desperation in the air, and it was in that brief moment that Jimin understood just how much his driver had been there for him over the years.

Sebastian’s expression softened, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The weight of everything hung between them like a thick fog.

“Try not to kill yourself,” Sebastian said quietly, almost too serious like it wasn't a lighthearted joke, his voice thick with emotion, his gaze still lingering in the rearview mirror.

Jimin gave him a brief nod, his throat tight, feeling the lump rise as he gave him a tight smile.

“Thank you,” Jimin whispered, barely able to get the words out.

The hotel lobby was quiet, the air thick with the smell of fresh linens and the muted buzz of a distant conversation.

Kyara’s eyes were dark with uncertainty, and Jimin could feel the tension in her posture, in the way she kept glancing around, as if expecting someone to walk in and drag them back to the hell they had just left behind.

They approached the front desk, where the receptionist greeted them with a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

Jimin barely registered the small talk, only responding in the shortest words possible as they got the key to a room at the back of the building.

They didn’t need anyone to know who they were or why they were there.

Once they were in the room, the weight of everything began to settle on them.

The silence was deafening. The sound of the air conditioner humming softly in the background, the rustle of clothes being unpacked, and the soft clink of keys being set down.

Jimin dropped his bag on the bed and stared out the window, his mind spinning. The clock ticked, and his thoughts went to Jungkook.

He could feel the nagging itch in the back of his mind. He had to know. Had to face the truth.

And then, his phone buzzed.

Jimin glanced at the screen. The name flashed across, and his heart skipped a beat.

Jungkook: My house. 10 PM.

Jimin’s chest tightened. He stared at the message for a moment, trying to steady his breath.

It was like a knife digging deeper, the need for closure clawing at him.

Kyara was beside him in an instant, her eyes scanning his face, reading the conflict that was brewing.

“Jimin…” she whispered, her voice filled with concern. “Don’t. We came here to get away. Don’t go back to him. Please, stay here with me. Please.”

Jimin’s jaw tightened as he turned the phone over in his hands.

“I have to,” he replied, his voice low and almost lost in the hum of the room. “I need closure. I can’t keep running without knowing the truth.”

Kyara’s eyes searched his, but she didn’t say anything more. She knew it was pointless to argue now. Jimin had already made up his mind.

“Please be careful,” she said, her voice fragile, almost a plea. “Don’t let him drag you back. You’re so much more than what he made you feel.”

Jimin nodded, his chest tightening further. He couldn’t promise her anything. But he would go to Jungkook, get whatever answers he could, and then… then he would be done.

“Stay here,” Jimin said softly, his voice cracking slightly. “I’ll be back. I just need to do this.”

And with that, he left, leaving Kyara behind, her heart in her throat.

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As Jimin stepped out into the night, the streetlights flickering above, the tension was unbearable.

He didn’t know what he was expecting when he arrived at Jungkook’s house.

But deep down, he was certain of one thing: this was going to change everything.

The cool air nipped at his skin as he made his way down the quiet street, the weight of his decision pressing heavily on his chest.

He needed answers—closure, whatever it took. It felt like everything he had done up to this point had been leading to this moment.

Just as he rounded the corner, a shadow caught his eye. For a brief second, he froze. His heart skipped a beat.

There, standing under the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp, was a figure he almost recognized.

The silhouette looked all too familiar—tall, with broad shoulders and the unmistakable stance of someone he knew all too well.

Jimin’s mind raced, his pulse quickening. Could it be? Was it Kai?

His chest tightened as the figure turned slightly, but before Jimin could make out more details, the person vanished into the shadows of the alleyway, lost in the darkness. His instincts screamed at him to follow, to see if it really was Kai, but something deep within him hesitated.

No. He wasn’t going to do this.

With a shaky breath, Jimin forced himself to look away, to keep moving forward. His thoughts tried to latch onto the possibility, but he couldn’t afford distractions. He had to focus on what lay ahead—on Jungkook and the questions he needed to face.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered to himself, pushing the unsettling thought aside. “Just my mind playing tricks.”

And with that, he kept walking, the weight of the moment still heavy on his shoulders, but determined to move forward. He couldn’t afford to let fear—or past ghosts—stop him

He didn’t know what he was expecting when he arrived at Jungkook’s house.

But deep down, he was certain of one thing: this was going to change everything.

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Back in the hotel room, Kyara couldn’t sit still. Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts, each one worse than the last. She had to do something.

She couldn’t just wait.

And then, just as her nerves started to unravel, the sound came.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Her heart stopped in her chest. She froze.

There was only one person who could be knocking like that.

The loud pounding against the door echoed in Kyara's mind, the sound reverberating through her skull. It was harsh, relentless, and filled with the type of rage that made her heart pound in terror.

She froze, her blood turning cold, her eyes wide as she stared at the door.

Boom, boom, boom.

"Kyara! I know you’re in there! Open the fucking door bitch!" Kai’s voice rang out from the other side, angry, desperate, and filled with something far darker.

Kyara didn’t move. Her breath hitched in her chest, a mixture of fear and something else she couldn’t name. She didn’t want to face him. Not like this.

Her hand trembled as it reached for her phone, dialing Jimin’s number instinctively, but then stopping herself before it even rang. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t with her anymore.

Instead, she hurried to the bathroom, locking the door behind her with shaking hands.

"If i get you I'll fucking kill you" he shouted louder.

Her back pressed against the cold tiles, the sound of her pulse loud in her ears, and her breathing shallow.

Kyara tried to steady herself. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t keep running, couldn’t keep hiding from him.

But deep down, she knew—she knew she couldn’t live this way anymore.

She approached the bathroom mirror, hands shaking as she gripped the sink to keep herself from falling. She could barely look at herself.

The girl who was once strong, once full of life, was now someone she didn’t recognize.

The reflection staring back at her was a stranger—someone broken, someone trapped.

“Please…” she whispered to her reflection, her voice barely above a breath. “Please, make it stop…”

The banging on the door continued, each strike like a thunderclap, louder, faster.

It wasn’t long before it was joined by frantic, desperate screams—Kai was trying to break through.

Kyara could hear him, his voice rising in fury, and it made her stomach twist. She had nowhere to go.

No one to turn to.

Her eyes darted to the small window above the bathroom sink. It was barely big enough to crawl through, but the thought of escaping through it crossed her mind.

She knew she couldn’t outrun the chaos, though. The only thing left now was to end it, to free herself from the torment once and for all.

I’m sorry, Jimin. The thought flitted through her mind like a fleeting shadow.

She knew he would never understand, but the truth was, she couldn’t bear the weight of the pain anymore.

Her hands found the small razor she kept in the cabinet—a reminder of everything she had tried to escape.

She didn’t even hesitate as her fingers wrapped around the cool metal.

Tears blurred her vision as she looked at herself once more in the mirror, barely able to recognize the face staring back at her.

She closed her eyes.

“Goodbye,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible, a last whisper in the dark room.

With one final, desperate movement, she pressed the razor against the skin on the veins circling her neck, the sharp edge cutting through.

The pain was brief but sharp, and a gasp escaped her lips as the warmth of blood began to pour from the wound.

It felt… strangely liberating.

She sank to the floor, her vision blurring as she tried to hold herself together.

Her head grew heavy, her body weak as the blood pooled around her, soaking into the cold tiles.

The world around her seemed to grow distant, her senses fading.

Her breathing became shallow, each breath a labor. The noise from the door—the pounding, the screaming—was growing quieter, as if she was slipping further and further away from reality.

In the last moments, Kyara could feel the tightness in her chest release, the weight she had carried for so long slipping away as everything began to fade to black.

And then, just as she closed her eyes for the final time, her last thought was a bittersweet one: I’m free.

Finally.

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how we feeling babies ? Suprised ? Expected ? Did you believe kai would do such a thing ? Dyk why ? Babies there is 1 just one more secret can u take a guess ? Vote
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