Jungkook’s POV —

The night was calm—strangely so.

I stood at the edge of the terrace, arms resting on the low brick wall, watching the moon hang heavy and whole above the village skyline. It had a silver glow, soft and surreal, the kind that made you forget—just for a second—that the world could be cruel.

Below, the courtyard buzzed with a soft echo of life. Advait was “strategizing” with his toy walkie-talkie, acting like a mini commander, shouting instructions at no one in particular while Aarohi followed behind him with her bunny in hand, insisting she was the “backup medical team.”

My lips twitched into a smile.

That was my blood. My chaos. My home.

Still, a certain restlessness lingered in my chest.
Not fear.
Not exactly worry.
Just… a simmering kind of tension. Like my instincts still hadn’t let their guard down.

Then I heard it.

Footsteps behind me.

Soft. Familiar.
I didn’t even need to turn.

“You’ve been quiet for too long,” she said gently.

I finally glanced over my shoulder.

There she was.

Y/n. Wearing a soft cotton night kurta, hair loosely tied, a glass of milk in her hand, the warm village breeze tugging at her braid. Her face, lit faintly by the moon, looked so calm. Too calm.

But I knew better.

I knew the way she held silence when she was trying to protect me from her own worries.

I turned back to the sky. “Just thinking.”

She walked over, leaned beside me on the wall, and handed me the glass. “That’s dangerous for you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Me thinking?”

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed. “You’re the type who thinks too much and then buys three bulletproof cars at once.”

“That was only once,” I muttered, sipping the milk.

“Exactly my point.”

I stayed silent for a moment, eyes trained on the glistening moon. “I hate that someone got close. I keep replaying it. If I had waited even a few more hours… if that bottle hadn’t been found…”

She placed a hand on my arm. “But it didn’t happen, Jungkook. You came. You protected us. Like you always do.”

“I wasn’t fast enough,” I said through my teeth.

She stepped in front of me and placed her hand over my chest. “Hey. Look at them down there.”
We both glanced toward the kids. Aarohi had tripped on her dupatta and Advait was trying to teach her how to “roll like a ninja.”

Y/n smiled faintly. “They’re happy. They’re safe. You did that.”

I met her eyes—and something just… shifted.

My hand set the glass on the edge of the terrace wall.

And before she could process it, I stepped forward, gripping her waist, and gently but firmly backed her into the side wall tucked away in the shadow—hidden from anyone’s view below.

“Jungko—” she whispered, barely finishing before my lips caught hers.

Soft.

Slow.

No fire. No urgency.

Just… her.

She gasped quietly, her fingers clutching at my shoulders, unsure if she wanted to push or pull. Her breath fanned across my face and I deepened the kiss, one hand holding her waist, the other sliding up to cradle her jaw.

When I finally pulled back, she exhaled heavily and patted my shoulder once, breathless and slightly dazed.

“W-What was that for?”

I leaned in, pressing my forehead to hers.

“For keeping me sane. For carrying everything when I couldn’t. For bringing me milk when my head is a warzone.”

She looked up at me, cheeks flushed. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me.”

She rolled her eyes, breath returning, but her hands still stayed on me. “I do.”

I smiled, tracing her cheek with my thumb. “Then let me hold you like this a little longer. Just until the moon turns jealous.”

“You’re such a poet these days.”

“You make me one,” I whispered.

Below us, the kids yelled something about a “spy mission,” and Aarohi’s bunny went flying into a bush. Laughter echoed. The world felt lighter.

Up here, with her in my arms and moonlight brushing across her skin, I felt it again.

Peace.

Even if temporary.

Even if borrowed.

In that moment, tucked in the shadows of a terrace in her father’s house, I wasn’t Jeon Jungkook the empire builder, the mafia boss, the firestorm.

I was just her husband.

And I never wanted to be anything else.

The air on the tarrice was thick with the scent of roasted peanuts, mango oil in someone’s hair, and the faint perfume of night jasmine from the corner pot. String lights blinked above our heads—tangled and half-flickering but somehow perfect in their imperfection.

Everyone was gathered—like something straight out of a dream I didn’t know I had.

Y/n’s brother sat cross-legged, peeling a guava with a butter knife, laughing about something. Her sister, who always had a mischievous glint in her eyes, was curled up near the edge, playing with her son’s tiny toes as the toddler snored away, tucked in a cot with his arms stretched like he ruled the world.

The other cot next to it had her brother’s daughter—another chubby munchkin—who was knocked out cold, drooling against her mother’s shoulder.

Her sister-in-law yawned dramatically and said, “These kids are the real CEOs of the family now. One sneeze and the entire house moves.”

Everyone chuckled.

I leaned against one of the pillars, sipping from a clay cup of warm jaggery tea. Y/n sat near the center, the queen of her kingdom—dupatta over one shoulder, barefoot, and glowing like the moon belonged to her.

Aarohi was sitting near Amma, trying to braid her hair and failing adorably.

And Advait?

That little brat.

He was standing with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched, pacing slowly, and talking into a pretend Bluetooth earpiece.

“I don’t want delays, understood?” he said to no one. “The mission has to begin at 0700 hours. Aarohi, have you checked the backup bunny storage? No? That’s a breach in protocol.”

Aarohi blinked. “What’s a protocol?”

“You won’t understand,” he sighed, deep and cold. “It’s elite language.”

“Oh lord,” Y/n’s sister snorted, slapping her own forehead. “Tell me this kid isn’t Jungkook’s carbon copy.”

Her brother nodded. “No no, it's him. Look at the posture. Arms crossed, chin tilted, and that mafia-worthy glare.”

Even I laughed, shaking my head. “I’ve created a monster.”

Just then, Advait turned to Aarohi who was tugging at his sleeve. “Stop being cute, okay? I have work to do.”

“Appa, he said I’m too cute to be serious,” Aarohi whined, puffing her cheeks.

“Oh, really?” Y/n raised her eyebrows and turned to her son. “Mr. Jeon Advait, can you come here for a second?”

He blinked, paused dramatically, and walked over like he was about to discuss the nuclear codes.

“Yes, Mother?”

The second he was in front of her, she grabbed him and pulled him right onto her lap like he was five pounds of potatoes.

“MOM!” he yelped. “I’m conducting important stuff!”

“You’re conducting nothing but pure drama,” she said, planting loud kisses on both his cheeks.

“STOOPPP!” he squealed, trying to push her away.

She cupped his face, kissed his nose, and pinched his cheeks like he was still in diapers. “Look at this face! My CEO! My mafia don! My little boss baby!”

“I’m not a baby!” he protested, red-faced, glaring at me for backup.

I held up my hands, grinning wide. “You wanted to be like me, right? This is the price. You get kissed in front of a full audience.”

The entire family erupted in laughter.

Her father chuckled, “So cold and serious a minute ago. Now squashed like a mango.”

Advait grumbled, folding his arms even while trapped in Y/n’s hold. “One day I’ll run the house. Then no one can kiss me without approval.”

I stepped forward and squatted next to them, ruffling his hair. “You’ll run it, alright. But only if you add cuddles as a law.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Cuddles are for weaklings.”

“Then I guess I’m weak,” I said, leaning in and kissing the top of his head. “Because nothing beats this.”

He blinked, clearly confused, then sighed, melting just a bit in his mom’s lap. “Fine. But don’t tell Jimin chachu. He’ll laugh.”

Y/n whispered to me while cradling him, “He’s not even nine and already worried about mafia reputation. What are we raising?”

I smirked, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “A legend.”

The night drifted on—stars overhead, kids sleeping in cozy clumps, laughter echoing like a lullaby.
The storm had passed.
And in this stillness, in this mess of sleepy babies, roasted nuts, crickets, and family teasing—
I realized this wasn’t just her world.

This was ours.
And I’d give up every crown I ever wore just to stay right here forever.

The stars were beginning to scatter like glitter across the dark velvet sky. The faint village breeze carried the smell of incense and roasted fennel seeds from someone’s kitchen below. Crickets chirped rhythmically in the background, and laughter had faded into soft murmurs, then to silence.

The tarrice was dimly lit now, mostly by the warm glow of one hanging bulb and the pale silver moon.

And in that quiet…

I looked over and saw him.

Advait.
Fast asleep.
His cheek resting on Y/n’s chest, small arms wrapped tightly around her middle like he never wanted to let go.
His blue t-shirt was bunched up on one side, and his feet dangled over her lap, but his face… God, his face looked so peaceful.

Y/n, still gently swaying as she sat, ran her fingers through his hair absentmindedly. Her eyes met mine—soft, sleepy, and full of that kind of love that didn’t need to be spoken.

“He didn’t even last five minutes,” she whispered with a smile. “Was acting like such a boss the whole evening, and now he’s the softest baby.”

I chuckled quietly. “Wonder where he gets that from.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Definitely you.”

I shrugged. “Guilty.”

Just then, something shifted next to me. A little hand slipped into mine.

Aarohi.

Wearing her bunny-printed pajamas, hair all messy from playing, she was curled under my arm like a tiny kitten.

“Appa…” she whispered, blinking up at me.

“Hmm?” I lowered my voice, brushing a strand of hair off her forehead.

“Can unicorns paint?”

I blinked. Then smiled. “Unicorns?”

“Yeah… I dreamed of a unicorn painting on the moon,” she mumbled, resting her head on my chest. “She had pink wings and painted with her horn.”

“That’s the most creative thing I’ve heard all week.”

She giggled softly. “I wanna learn how to paint like that.”

I pulled her up a little so she could see my face. “You know your appa used to paint?”

She gasped. “You? No way!”

“Way,” I said proudly. “Before I was shooting guns and making deals, I painted skies and dragons and even an entire underwater castle once.”

“Wahhh… show me!”

I tapped her nose. “I’ll do better. I’ll teach you.”

Her eyes widened like I just offered her the moon itself. “Really?! Me?!”

“Of course. We'll get the paints out tomorrow. You, me, some paper, and our imagination.”

“And maybe the unicorn?”

“Only if she behaves,” I whispered, making her giggle again.

She snuggled closer, wrapping her arms around me. “Appa?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you more than ice cream.”

I paused—dramatically. “That’s… that’s serious love.”

She nodded solemnly. “Strawberry ice cream. The pink one. Even more than that.”

I kissed her forehead. “Then I’ll never let anything hurt you. Ever.”

She didn’t reply. Just yawned softly and nestled her face into my neck.

I looked around the tarrice again.

Y/n with Advait still asleep on her lap, resting against the back wall with a shawl loosely wrapped around them both. Her eyes were starting to close now too.

The two baby cousins snoring in their cots.
Y/n’s sister-in-law curled up beside them.
The stars watching over us like ancient guardians.

And my arms, full of a daughter who believed in unicorns and dreams and her father being invincible.

In that moment—nothing else mattered.

Not the threats.
Not the blood on my hands.
Not the empire waiting for me back in the city.

Only this.

This strange, beautiful stillness.

And I silently promised myself—

Tomorrow, we’d paint unicorns.
And I’d teach her how to build a world so beautiful,
No evil would ever dare to enter it.