Jimin's day began like any other, with the soft light of morning filtering through the windows. However, there was something different today. As he opened the door to leave, he noticed a bouquet of flowers resting on the front steps. No note, no card—just fresh, beautifully arranged blooms. He stared at them for a moment, confused. He hadn't received flowers in a long time, especially not without any indication of who had sent them.

A part of him wanted to question it, but another part, the tired and weary part, just shrugged it off. He picked up the bouquet, inhaling the soft floral scent, and placed it in a jug of water on the kitchen counter.

"Maybe it's nothing," he told himself, focusing on the familiar routine of the day.

Jimin found himself drifting to the places he once frequented before he had married Jungkook. These places held memories of a different time, a different version of himself. There was a café on the corner where he used to sit for hours, nursing a cup of tea and scribbling in his notebook, his mind wandering without the weight of responsibility or heartache. Today, he visited that same café. The barista didn't recognize him, but the space felt like an old friend, untouched by time.

He sat by the window, just like he used to, and ordered a cup of tea. For the first time in a long while, he felt a sliver of the old Jimin—the Jimin who laughed freely, who moved through the world without the constant shadow of worry. He let himself enjoy the moment, pushing away the hurtful memories that had clouded his heart for too long.

After his tea, Jimin continued his stroll through the city. The gentle buzz of people around him, the comforting hum of traffic—it was soothing. As he walked aimlessly, letting his feet guide him, he passed by a small gallery. The sign outside read "Art Exhibition: The Journey of Emotions". Jimin paused. He hadn’t been to an art exhibition in years, not since his life had become consumed with other responsibilities. But something about the title drew him in.

Without thinking, he found himself stepping inside.

The gallery was quiet, save for the soft murmurs of a few other visitors and the faint classical music playing in the background. As he wandered through the rooms, Jimin felt an unexpected wave of nostalgia. The paintings on the walls were vibrant and full of emotion, each one telling a story. Some were abstract, with swirling colors that seemed to mirror the chaos inside his own heart, while others were softer, more subdued, capturing moments of peace and solitude.

Jimin stopped in front of a large canvas that caught his attention. It depicted a single figure standing on the edge of a cliff, looking out at a vast, endless ocean. The sky was painted in shades of pink and gold, suggesting the end of the day, and the figure’s stance was both strong and vulnerable. There was something in the painting that resonated with him deeply, as though the artist had captured the very essence of how he felt—caught between strength and fragility, standing on the edge of something unknown.

He stood there for a long time, lost in thought, letting the image wash over him. The past few years of his life had been turbulent, full of love and heartache, joy and pain. He had changed so much, and yet, looking at the figure in the painting, he realized that a part of him was still the same. The part that craved peace, that sought meaning in the chaos.

As he moved through the gallery, he found other pieces that spoke to him, each one adding to the quiet introspection that had begun to settle in his heart. It was as if the art was reminding him of the person he used to be before life had taken over—before the fights, the tears, the sleepless nights.

Jimin left the exhibition with a sense of calm he hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn’t a grand realization or a sudden change in perspective, but a quiet acknowledgment that he could still find moments of peace, even amidst the storm.

He spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the city, visiting spots that reminded him of a time when life felt simpler. He strolled through the park, watched the clouds drift by, and let his mind clear. He did things he used to love but had forgotten about amidst the chaos of marriage.

For today, at least, he allowed himself to be the old Jimin. The one who smiled just because. The one who wasn’t constantly thinking about tomorrow or the problems of yesterday.