Chapter 47: (Aaira's pov)

Jungkook's hands continued to stroke my back gently, his fingers working to comfort me. His breathing was ragged, matching the uneven rhythm of my own sobs. We stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, holding onto each other.

Jungkook's forehead remained pressed against mine, his touch wasn't even comfortable in the sea of guilt I was drowning in. His breathing was heavy and uneven, a mirror of my own sobs. His fingers continued to stroke my back, offering a small measure of relief from the overwhelming pain.

Through my tear-blurred vision, I could see his face contorted with concern. His eyes were red-rimmed, and the desperation in his expression was visible. He whispered softly, his voice breaking with emotion.

Jungkook: Aaira, did you eat anything?

I could barely muster the strength to say or speak anything. The weight of my grief was so consuming that the thought of eating seemed almost impossible. He asked again.

Jungkook: Aaira, have you eaten anything?

I shook my head weakly, unable to form coherent words through my cries. The thought of food seemed foreign and distant. His gaze softened with frustration and sadness.

Jungkook: Who were you waiting for? You need to take care of yourself.

I remained silent. His words were soft but urgent, his concern was evident in every syllable he said.

Jungkook: Who were you waiting for to help you?

His voice held a note of helplessness, as if searching for answers to a question with no easy answers. He glanced towards the door, the worry was clearly visible in his eyes. Before he could move, I reached out and grabbed his hand, my grip tight and pleading.

Aaira: Stay with me... please.

The simple plea was all I could manage, my voice barely a whisper. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking between mine and the door. It was as if he seemed torn between his desire to comfort me and the need to address my basic needs.

Jungkook: Please, Aaira. You need to eat. I'll be right back.

I grabbed his hand more tightly, my grip weak but desperate. More tears welled up in my eyes, as they threatened to spill.

Aaira: Please..... Stay here.

The plea escaped my lips in a trembling whisper, and Jungkook hesitated. He looked at me with a pained expression, knowing how much I needed his presence but also understanding the importance of me taking care of myself.

Jungkook: Aaira, you need to eat something. It's important for you. Give me two moments only.

His words were gentle but serious. Reluctantly, he let go of my hand and left the room, I kept staring at the door, I can't help but cry silently.

The minutes stretched as I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my tears continuing to fall. The ache inside me felt insurmountable, a void that no amount of comfort or reassurance seemed capable of filling. My body felt drained, and the thought of eating seemed almost impossible.

As Jungkook left the door slightly ajar, a small figure hesitantly appeared in the doorway. He peeked through, his eyes wide with uncertainty. His little face was a mix of curiosity and concern as he stood there, unsure whether to enter.

I could see him from where I lay, and despite the overwhelming sorrow, I attempted to muster a smile. But my tear-streaked face betrayed the effort. Aimin, noticing the tears, gasped softly and tiptoed cautiously towards the bed.

Aimin: Mum cry?

He asked, his tiny hands covering his mouth in a gesture of innocent concern. His eyes were filled with confusion and pity as he took in the sight of me. I nodded slowly, trying to keep my voice steady despite the tears still slipping down my cheeks.

Aaira: Yes, sweetie. Mumma is just feeling sad.

Aimin's lower lip quivered a little as he climbed onto the bed and settled beside me. He reached out with his small, comforting hands, patting my arm with a gentle touch. His presence, so pure and full of unspoken love, offered a small measure of solace.

Aimin: It's okay, Mum.

He said softly, his voice barely a whisper.

Aimin: I'm here.

His simple words, spoken with the earnestness only a child can convey, struck a chord deep within me. As I looked at him, I realized that, despite the pain I was enduring, there was still so much to cherish and hold on to.

As I lay there, trying to keep my emotions in check, I noticed Aimin's own eyes beginning to well up with tears. His tiny, tear-streaked face was a mirror of the sorrow I felt inside, and despite my efforts to stay composed, my heart ached for him.

Aimin reached out with his small hands, his fingers trembling slightly as he gently tried to wipe away the tears from my cheeks. The gesture, though clumsy, was filled with a purity of intent that broke through my soul. I didn't want him to see me like this, vulnerable and weak, but the sight of him struggling to comfort me made it impossible to hold back.

Aimin: Mum, don't cry.

Aimin whispered, his voice trembling as he reached out to touch my face. The tears began to roll down his cheeks, and he climbed closer, wrapping his tiny arms around my face in a tender hug. His sobs were soft and heart-wrenching, it was painful of how deeply he felt the sadness that had enveloped me.

I could feel his little body shaking against mine, and despite my attempts to remain strong, I found myself overcome with emotion. I placed a hand gently on his back, my fingers brushing over the soft fabric of his shirt as I held him close. My heart broke seeing him so distressed, and I instinctively began to caress his back, offering whatever comfort I could.

Aaira: It's alright, Aimin.

I murmured.

Aaira: It's alright. Don't cry. Mumma is just feeling low right now, but I'm okay.

He continued to sob softly, his little arms squeezing tighter as if trying to hold onto the strength I was struggling to maintain. The weight of his small frame pressed against me was both comforting and heart-wrenching. I could feel his tiny heart beating rapidly against my chest, and it only made my own tears flow more freely.

As I held him, I tried to steady my breathing, focusing on calming both of us. I stroked his back gently, my hands moving in soothing circles, and whispered reassurances, hoping to provide some semblance of peace to him despite the chaos within me.

Aaira: It's okay, sweetheart.

I said, my voice growing softer.

Aaira: Mummy loves you so much. You're my brave little boy.

Aimin's cries gradually softened as he clung to me, his sobs turning into quiet sniffles. I continued to hold him close, my hand rubbing small circles on his back. As his tears began to dry, Aimin looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes. I wiped the remaining tears from his cheeks, my own tears still flowing freely. I wanted to be strong for him, but in this shared moment of vulnerability, it felt important to allow him to see that it was okay to cry and feel sad sometimes.

Aaira: You're my brave champ.

I said softly, my voice trembling with emotion.

Aaira: Thank you for being here with me.

Aimin managed a small, shaky smile through his tears, his little face lighting up. He nestled closer, resting his head against my shoulder. Suddenly, the door creaked open and Amell Shouted.

Amell: Minnie! Let's play!

Aimin, who had been nestled against me with his small arms wrapped tightly around my neck, lifted his head and looked towards the door. His tearful eyes brightened at the sound of Amell's call.

Aimin: Yes, Ame!

He replied eagerly, a faint smile appearing on his face despite his recent distress. He gently detached himself from my embrace, his little hands still reaching out for comfort but now clearly excited by the prospect of play. He scrambled off the bed and dashed towards the doorway, his steps quick and light as he ran to join Amell.

Amell, with a wide grin and a sparkle of excitement in his eyes, welcomed Aimin's cheerful response. He stepped aside, allowing Aimin to join him, and together they disappeared from the room, their laughter and playful chatter fading as they left.

The door closed behind them with a soft click, leaving me alone once more. I lay back on the bed, my tears continuing to flow freely as I stared at the ceiling. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, but the ache of being alone with my thoughts was overwhelming.

Not just my stomach but my heart was paining too,

The minutes dragged on, I was left to confront the painful reality of my own emotions, grappling with the loneliness that had settled in their wake. But gladly, Jungkook returned with a tray of food, as he set the tray down beside me and looked at me with an expression that was both tender and anxious. He picked up a spoon and carefully tried to offer me some of the food.

Jungkook: Aaira, please. You need to eat. I made sure to bring something you might like.

He spoke with a soft, encouraging tone, but his words seemed to fall flat in the face of my overwhelming guilt. I couldn't bring myself to even look at the food, let alone eat it.

Jungkook: I know it's hard, but you need to take care of yourself. Please, just try a little.

He was trying so hard to help, his voice was as steady as it could be at the moment, but his own emotions were clearly visible in his eyes, and trembling hands. He spoke softly, his words meant to soothe and encourage, but they seemed to have little effect on me. My tears continued to flow, and I could only shake my head, unable to muster the strength to eat.

Despite his best efforts, I remained unresponsive. The food seemed to mock me, it was the normalcy that felt so far out of reach. Jungkook's own pain was evident in the way he moved, his actions filled with a desperate need to alleviate my suffering, even though he was struggling to manage his own.

Jungkook: My love, I know it's hard, but we need to get through this together, Right ? Please, just a little bite.

His voice was strained, the emotion behind his words almost broke my very little soul. He kept trying, feeding me small spoonfuls, his hands trembling slightly as he did so. I could see the genuine care in his eyes, the love that drove him to continue despite the unfortunate odds.

Yet, no matter how much he tried, the food remained untouched. The pain inside me was too intense, the grief too consuming for anything to seem bearable. I shook my head again, my voice failing me as I continued to cry. I reached out to hold his hands tightly.

Aaira: Jungkook, please don't leave me.

Jungkook: I'm here, Aaira. I'm not going anywhere. Why would I leave you ?

I started crying more.

Aaira: Please, Please don't leave me.

I tried to whisper with the very little voice I had left after today. Jungkook pulled me into a tight hug, holding me close as if he could shield me from the world's pain. His arms were strong and reassuring, his warmth a small comfort against the cold, crushing despair that enveloped me.

Aaira: Don't leave me... please. Don't leave me...

My voice was muffled against his chest, but the desperation was clear, I was scared that he might leave me now. But, I could feel his steady heartbeat against my cheek, a rhythmic reminder that he was there, despite everything.

Jungkook: Shh, it's okay. I'm right here. I won't leave you.

His voice was soothing, but the tremor in his words betrayed his own emotional struggle. He held me tighter, his hands gently stroking my back in a futile attempt to calm my shivering frame. His breath was warm against my ear, a steady presence in the sea of my sobs.

Despite his best attempts to comfort me, I continued to cry uncontrollably. The grief and fear felt too overwhelming, and my body shook with the intensity of my emotions. I clung to him, my grip tight as if holding onto him would keep me grounded.

Aaira: I'm scared, Jungkook.

Jungkook: Scared of who, Aaira?

Aaira: I don't want to face your Mother, Hwasa Noona, my Mumma. Everyone...

The words tumbled out between my sobs, each name a reminder of the world I felt too fragile to face. The thought of confronting others about our loss, the judgment and pity that I feared, only added to my insurmountable burden. Hut his arms tightened around me, as he tried to offer reassurance.

Jungkook: No, no one will say anything to you. They all care about you, and they'll understand. If they didn't? You have me.

His words were meant to comfort, but I could hear the uncertainty in his voice, a reflection of his own struggle to make sense of the situation.

Jungkook: We'll face them together. I won't let anyone hurt you, Aaira. I promise.

Even as my tears flowed and my body shook, there was a part of me that found some solace in his promise. The thought of facing everyone with Jungkook by my side offered a small measure of comfort. I clung to him as if he were my lifeline, my breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Jungkook: It's okay, love. I'm here. I won't leave you.

His voice was very soft. As the minutes passed, my sobs began to subside. He continued to hold me, his arms wrapped tightly around me as if he could shield me from the fragile situation.

His gentle presence helped calm my crying, and his soft words and steady breathing made me feel safe. As my sobs began to quiet down, he carefully helped me lie down on the bed. He moved with great care, making sure I was comfortable and adjusting the blankets around me. The warmth of the bed felt good against my shaking body.

Jungkook sat next to me, his eyes never leaving my face. He looked sad but also caring. His fingers lightly brushed a piece of hair from my forehead, showing just how much he cared for me. As I started to fall asleep, Jungkook bent down and kissed my forehead gently.

The kiss was warm and comforting, a small sign of his deep love and support. His lips stayed there for a moment, promising that he would always be there for me. I closed my eyes, even though I was still sad and hurting, knowing that Jungkook was with me made me feel a little better.

As I drifted into a deep sleep, I could feel Jungkook's steady breathing beside me, helping me relax. The storm outside seemed to calm down along with my own sighs of relief. For a short time, it was quiet and calm. As I finally fell asleep, his warmth wrapped around me.

***

From that day forward, I withdrew into myself. The loss of our child had created a chasm within me, a deep void that seemed impossible to fill. I stopped talking to everyone around me. Conversations that once felt natural and comforting now seemed foreign and distant. I avoided eye contact and kept to myself, preferring the silence of my own thoughts to the company of others.

Food lost its appeal, and I barely ate anything. Meals became a forgotten ritual, something I once enjoyed but now couldn't bring myself to participate in. The act of eating felt like a hollow gesture, an empty routine that did nothing to soothe the pain inside me. My appetite was a casualty of my grief, and each meal seemed to mock me with its normalcy.

Nights were the hardest. I lay awake, unable to escape the haunting memories of that fateful day. The pain I felt when I was alone in the bathroom, bleeding and helpless, replayed in my mind like an endless loop. The raw, physical agony of that moment had left an indelible mark on my psyche. I would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing with memories of the loss and the torment that followed.

The trauma of losing our child was overwhelming. It wasn't just the physical pain that lingered but also the emotional scars. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was to blame for everything that had happened. The guilt was an unwelcome shadow that followed me wherever I went.

The accusations and judgment from people around me added to my burden. I felt like I was being scrutinized, judged harshly for something I had no control over. Their pity and blame mixed into a cauldron of pain, making it even harder to bear. I couldn't escape the feeling that I had failed not only myself but also Jungkook and our child.

My inability to engage with those around me and my refusal to care for myself had become increasingly apparent to everyone. I had stopped taking care of even the most basic needs, and the concern for my well-being was evident among those who cared about me.

It became clear that my inability to cope with the demands of motherhood, made it necessary for someone to take on the care of Aimin. The decision was made with a heavy heart, Aimin would need to return to Jungkook's parents, at least for a while, so that they could offer him the care and stability that I was currently unable to provide.

When the news was delivered to me, it felt like another blow, another loss added to the already scattered self. I understood the reasoning behind it, the need to ensure Aimin's well-being. It was clear that I was in no condition to care for him properly, and his needs were being neglected in the middle of my own struggle.

Jungkook, though deeply saddened by the situation, agreed that it was in Aimin's best interest. He explained that Aimin would be well cared for with his parents, and that this arrangement would allow me some time to heal and regain my strength.

In the days leading up to Aimin's departure, I could hardly bring myself to prepare for the separation. The thought of saying goodbye to my child once again, even if only temporarily, felt cruel. I would look at Aimin, his innocent eyes full of trust and affection, and my heart would break at the thought of not being able to be the mother he needed.

When the day came for Aimin to leave, I watched as they gently gathered Aimin's things once again, Aimin was taken away, I stood by the window, my heart aching as I watched him leave. I could barely manage a farewell. The sight of him leaving, even with people who loved and cared for him, was painful.

In the days that followed, the absence of Aimin was a constant, aching presence in our lives. The house felt emptier, and the routines that once revolved around him now seemed hollow. My grief, though no longer compounded by the demands of caring for a child, was still overwhelming.

I felt like a burden to those around me. The shame and guilt I carried made it difficult to face anyone, I couldn't take care of both my children. Jungkook continued to stand by me, his support was unwavering despite the distance I maintained. He would gently encourage me to eat, to talk, to engage, but his efforts often met with my silence.

***

The afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a muted glow across the room as I prepared myself for the day. The heavy silence that enveloped the house seemed to seep into my very being, adding to the pervasive chill that had settled over me.

My interactions with the maids are none. But with my family it had become minimal, reduced to terse responses and averted gazes. The warmth of the bath had long faded, leaving me feeling cold in the room. I stepped out of the bath wrapped in a big, fluffy towel.

The maids moved and guided me from the bathroom to the dresser. At the dresser, Thalassa, one of the maids, began drying my hair. She began to dry my hair. The thing was a large metal frame with a chimney on top. A fiery ember burned inside, just like my heart.

It created a bit of smoke, which was directed through a nozzle. Thalassa carefully positioned it near me, the warm air began to dry my wet hair. As she worked, she used a comb to gently untangle my hair while maneuvering the device.

When Thalassa finished, she carefully removed the steaming pot and gave my hair a final brush. The smoky smell lingered, I stayed still, staring at the dresser, barely noticing the maids around me.

The maids moved about the room with practiced efficiency, their quiet murmurs the only sound breaking the stillness. They helped me into my attire. It was an outerwear typically included an array of elegant pieces designed to keep them warm and stylish.

I was dressed in a high-necked woolen coat, its deep burgundy fabric adorned with intricate embroidery that hinted at a once-vibrant personality now subdued by sorrow. The coat was lined with soft fur, I stared at my reflection, before trying to give myself a soft smile, but i couldn't.

The maids' fingers worked with gentle precision as they adjusted the coat's collar and secured its fastenings. One of them, a woman named Eliziya, spoke softly as she worked.

Eliziya: Lady Jeon, your coat is ready. Do you wish to wear your shawl as well?

I merely nodded, the action a mere reflex rather than an expression of choice. My mind was elsewhere, absorbed in a fog of despair that made even the simplest decisions feel monumental. Eliziya continued to handle me with delicate care.

Eliziya: Shall I assist you with the necklace as well? It's lovely to see you wear it. It suits you.

I allowed her to help me with the necklace, the one Jungkook had gifted me. It was a simple, elegant piece, a delicate chain with a small locket that held a cherished photograph, I gave the necklace a small smile. As I gazed at other necklaces, that one particular necklace lying on the dresser caught my eyes, my breath stuck in my throat.

It was the same emerald-green necklace Jungkook had given me when we were expecting our second child, before everything changed with the miscarriage. The deep green of the gem mirrored the color of my eyes, a vivid reminder of happier times.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I reached out and traced a finger gently over the delicate chain. The touch of the cool metal against my skin brought a fresh wave of sorrow, the memory of that precious moment now tinged with the pain of loss.

Quickly wiping away my tears, I tried to regain my composure. I shifted my gaze to the other necklaces displayed on the dresser, hoping to distract myself from the surge of emotions. As I examined the assortment of jewelry, each piece seemed to hold its own story, but none could compare to the necklace Jungkook had given me.

Despite my efforts to focus on the other items, the memory of the emerald necklace lingered. The necklace was one of the few things I still found comfort in, a tangible connection to Jungkook's affection that felt both reassuring and painful in its reminder.

As Eliziya fastened the necklace around my neck, her fingers lingered for a moment, as if to offer a silent gesture of support. Her gaze was full of sympathy, but I remained silent, lost in my own thoughts. I could sense her concern, but words felt inadequate and unnecessary.

Eliziya: There we are. You look beautiful, Lady Jeon. Shall I call Someone for you ?

Her question hung unanswered. I remained still, my gaze fixed on the reflection in the mirror. The emerald necklace, with its deep green hue, shimmered faintly against the backdrop of my somber attire.

As I grappled with my thoughts, the door of the closet creaked open slightly. Through the mirror, I caught a glimpse of Jungkook standing at the threshold. The maids, sensing his presence, bowed respectfully and exited the room with quietness, leaving Jungkook alone with me.

He stood there for a moment, allowing the maids their exit before stepping further into the room, his gaze never leaving me. When I could finally see his whole figure in the mirror, I tried to give him a smile, to tell him I was alright.

Jungkook: Are you going somewhere?

I nodded.

Jungkook: Where are you going?

His voice was gentle but tinged with concern. I took a deep sigh, trying to steady my emotions as I faced him through the mirror. The sight of him standing behind me, was a relief, but I needed to calm my mind.

Aaira: The old house.

I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. I could sense the confusion in his eyes as he processed my response.

Jungkook: The old house? Why would you want to go there?

He asked. His confusion was understandable; the old house held memories of a time that was now clouded with distance. I had spent lots of time there in my teen age, it was the house I used to go to whenever I was sad before marriage. Yet, for reasons I couldn't fully articulate, the idea of going there seemed to offer a semblance of distraction from my current situation.

Aaira: I thought... I thought it might help me clear my mind. Maybe it's just the need to be familiar, somewhere that might offer a little peace, away from everyone.

Jungkook's brows furrowed as he listened to me, his eyes reflecting a blend of worry and confusion. He moved closer, his hand gently resting on my shoulder.

Jungkook: Love, I understand that you need space, but I'm worried about you. The old house... it's not exactly the place for finding peace right now. Maybe there's another way to cope, something that might be less... overwhelming.

His words were carefully chosen, his concern evident in every syllable. The old house, with its haunting echoes of the past, was not the sanctuary it once might have been. Instead, it was a place that could now provide me some peace.

Aaira: I just need to be alone for a while. Sometimes, being in a place that holds memories, helps me sort through my thoughts.

Jungkook's grip on my shoulder tightened slightly, his eyes searching mine for any sign of reassurance. His expression was a mixture of sadness and frustration, his desire to protect me clashing with my own need to find peace, but there was a chance i might meet some danger.

Jungkook: If you're set on going, at least let me accompany you. I don't want you to be alone, especially not in that place. It's too difficult right now.

His offer was heartfelt, a testament to his unwavering support despite the challenges we faced. I could see the genuine concern in his eyes, the same eyes that had once looked at me with unguarded affection.

Aaira: I appreciate it, My lord, but I need this time to myself. It's not about escaping you or our life; it's about finding a moment to breathe and reflect. I promise I'll be careful.

His shoulders slumped slightly, my words were clearly taking a toll on him. He hesitated, clearly torn between respecting my wishes and his own fear for my well-being.

Jungkook: Alright, but please be careful. And if you need anything, or if you change your mind, just let me know.

His voice was a soft whisper now, but the strain of his concern was evident. He reached out and gently took my hand, as he planted a soft kiss there.

Jungkook: I love you, Aaira. Don't forget that.

I nodded, as he moved towards the dresser. His hands, though trembling slightly, were steady as he picked up a delicate crown-shaped hair clip and gently secured it into my hair. The clip, adorned with intricate designs and tiny sparkling antic stones, caught the light.

As he finished adjusting it, he leaned in and planted a tender kiss on my neck, his lips warm and soothing against my skin. The gesture, both intimate and reassuring, conveyed a depth of affection that words could scarcely express.

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"When I was at my lowest and had lost all hopes, I faltered and failed in every aspect of my life, yet you refused to walk away. You stayed, holding on to me when I felt I had failed everything, including you."

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