Jungkook’s POV

I swear I hadn’t laughed like this in weeks.

I was leaning casually against the doorframe of the living room, arms folded across my chest, watching the absolute mess unfold before me. Y/n was sitting on the couch, arms crossed like a school principal ready to hand out detentions, face stormy with rage, and eyebrows drawn so tight I thought they’d never relax again.

And right across from her, Yoongi-hyung stood awkwardly, looking like a guilty student who forgot to do his homework.

“I said I’m sorry, okay?” Yoongi muttered for the fifth time, scratching the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable.

“Sorry?” Y/n snapped, voice sharper than any blade in my armory. “That’s all you have to say? Sorry?”

Yoongi flinched. “Look… I genuinely thought Jungkook was—”

“A criminal? A monster? A rapist?” Y/n threw back before he could finish, her voice trembling now. “You told me lies that made me doubt my own husband!”

That last word must’ve hit her as hard as it hit him. She inhaled sharply, looking away, blinking rapidly. Her anger wasn’t just at Yoongi—it was at herself, too. I could see it.

And that’s what made it all the more hilarious.

I covered my mouth with my hand, stifling another burst of laughter, but failed miserably. A full chuckle escaped my lips.

“Jesus Christ, the drama,” I muttered, laughing, walking in and sitting beside Y/n. “I feel like I’m in a courtroom.”

She gave me a sharp glare. “Don’t you dare defend him.”

I raised both hands in mock surrender, a sly smile playing on my lips. “Defend him? Oh, baby, I’m enjoying this show too much to interfere.”

Yoongi shot me a flat look. “You’re a real bastard, you know that?”

“Oh, absolutely,” I smirked, slinging an arm behind Y/n. “But I’m her bastard. And she just remembered that.”

“Jungkook!” she snapped again, but this time her voice cracked at the edges. She was holding it all in. Her fury, her pain, her guilt. It wasn’t just about Yoongi. It was about everything.

Yoongi sighed deeply. “Look… I didn’t know the full truth. I acted on instinct. Suyeon was my sister, Y/n. I thought I was protecting her memory.”

“You almost destroyed me,” Y/n whispered, eyes glistening now. “You almost made me leave the one person who actually protected her…”

I leaned forward slightly, voice low but firm now. “Hyung… You passed judgment on me with half a story. You know what that means in our world? That gets people killed.”

Yoongi nodded, jaw tight. “I know. That’s why I’m here. To make it right.”

Y/n didn’t say anything, but her breathing was uneven.

I reached out and gently took her hand, resting it on my thigh. She didn’t pull away.

Yoongi looked at her, eyes softening. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Y/n. I really didn’t. But I see it now. Jungkook… he didn’t fail Suyeon. He held everything together silently while the rest of us blamed him.”

The silence in the room thickened.

“I should’ve protected her too,” Yoongi said hoarsely. “I should’ve been there.”

Y/n finally looked up at him, voice quiet but sharp. “You didn’t just fail her. You failed me. And Jungkook. And your duty as a cop.”

Yoongi flinched again, but didn’t argue. “You’re right.”

I stood, giving Y/n’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Come on, baby,” I said softly. “You’ve been yelling at him for twenty minutes. That’s enough punishment for one day.”

She looked up at me, lips trembling. “He made me think… made me think you were capable of—of those things…”

I crouched down, cupping her cheek, my tone suddenly calm. “And now you know I’m not. So breathe. You believed what anyone would if they were fed poison.”

Y/n swallowed hard and finally nodded. She looked at Yoongi and said, “You owe her… more than an apology.”

“I know,” he whispered. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up… if you let me.”

I clapped my hands together. “Alright, enough of this emotional mess. Someone get me a drink.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, but I caught the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Y/n leaned against my side as I sat back down, still tense but just a little bit lighter. And me?

I was still grinning like an idiot.

Because this time… the truth was mine. And even Yoongi couldn’t deny it anymore.

She always surprises me.

Just when I think I’ve figured her out, she flips the board and plays a new game. And today was no exception.

Y/n leaned away from me slightly, her breathing calmer now. The storm in her chest had passed — at least, for now — and her eyes, though red, weren’t burning with fury anymore. Just… tiredness. That kind of exhaustion that comes after you’ve fought too hard for too long.

Yoongi was still standing awkwardly, his hands shoved in his pockets like a teenager caught sneaking back home past curfew. I could see the weight pressing on his shoulders. Guilt — genuine this time — thick and heavy.

And then, she said it.

“You should stay for dinner, hyung.”

My brows rose.

Yoongi blinked like he hadn’t heard her right. “What?”

“I said… stay for dinner,” she repeated, her voice soft, calm now. “It’s getting late, and I don’t think either of us wants to end this conversation with unresolved tension.”

I tilted my head to look at her, amused. “Y/n, are you offering dinner to the man who tried to paint me as a villain in front of you?”

She glanced at me with a faint smile. “He still deserves to eat.”

Yoongi let out a breath — a mix of surprise and relief. “Y/n…”

“It’s not forgiveness,” she said, cutting him off. “Not yet. But it’s a step. And I’m doing it for her.” Her eyes flickered to the side, and I knew she meant Suyeon.

Damn. She had the kind of grace even royalty would envy.

Yoongi finally nodded, slowly. “Alright. Thank you. I… I didn’t expect that.”

I stood up and stretched lazily. “Great. Hyung, you better like pizza, because that’s what the queen of this house was craving tonight. And when she craves something, we all eat it. No democracy in this dictatorship.”

Y/n gave me a warning glance but said nothing. Her silence was soft now, not biting.

“I like pizza,” Yoongi mumbled.

“Good,” I smirked, tossing him a throw pillow before walking toward the kitchen. “Then you won’t mind grabbing plates while I get the drinks.”

“I’m still your hyung, you brat!” he called out after me.

I paused at the doorway, grinning. “And you still tried to bury me six feet under with your half-truths, so I figure we’re even.”

Y/n laughed softly — the first real sound of peace from her in hours. I looked back and saw her relaxing into the couch, her arms no longer crossed, her fingers running gently over her belly as if soothing the little life inside.

“Hey,” I said gently, walking back over and crouching beside her. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Still feeling guilty.”

I touched her chin and tilted her face toward me. “Don’t. Guilt’s a chain. And I don’t want you bound in anything, except maybe my arms.”

“Jungkook,” she murmured, half smiling, half tearing up again.

“I mean it,” I whispered, pressing my forehead to hers. “You believed what anyone would if they saw the things you saw. But I’m not mad. I never was. Just… hurt. But that’s in the past now. We’re not going to let Junghyun take another second from us.”

She touched my cheek, her fingers feather-light. “Thank you… for not giving up on me.”

“I’d set the world on fire before I gave up on you,” I said simply. “Besides, now that you’ve seen how stubborn I am, you’re stuck with me forever.”

She laughed through her tears, shaking her head.

Behind us, Yoongi cleared his throat. “Uhh… I found the plates.”

I turned back, snickering. “Wow, hyung, you didn’t even break a single one. Impressive.”

“Shut up.”

Y/n chuckled again. “You two are impossible.”

I stood and helped her up gently, brushing my fingers against the small of her back. “Impossible, but entertaining.”

“More like exhausting,” she muttered, but her tone was light now.

We all sat down at the table, Yoongi awkward at first, but eventually settling in. I watched them talk — cautiously, carefully — but still… talking.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t looking over my shoulder.

No threats in that moment. No shadows. No blood.

Just us. Three people who had broken, bled, and battled — now sitting under warm lights and sharing pizza, pretending to be normal.

It wouldn’t last.

But for now, it was enough.

I watched her from the corner of my eye.

Y/n had picked off the olives again, like she always did. She hated them but never asked me to order it any other way — said it was “our compromise.” She still hadn’t spoken much since we sat down, but I didn’t push. I knew her silence wasn’t anger anymore. It was reflection. Guilt still lingered behind her lashes, but her body had started to soften beside me.

Yoongi was chewing quietly, his shoulders hunched as if he didn’t know whether he was allowed to breathe easy yet.

“So,” I said suddenly, breaking the strange tension that settled over our candle-lit pizza table like a bad sitcom. “Should we talk about how I almost died again, or do we just let that slide?”

Y/n groaned softly and kicked me under the table. “Jungkook…”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” I smirked, leaning back in my chair, “shot in my own room, bled on the rug I imported from Italy. Could’ve died without finishing that chocolate lava cake in the fridge.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Only you would bring up dessert while discussing near-death.”

“It was a good cake,” I replied, pretending to look offended. “And she was the one who baked it. Right, angel?”

Y/n tried to hide her smile, failing miserably. “It was store-bought.”

“Blasphemy,” I gasped. “Don’t ruin the illusion.”

“You ruin it yourself,” she mumbled, then looked at Yoongi, serious again. “But… I’m glad you came.”

Yoongi lowered his gaze. “I didn’t know. About everything. About Junghyun.”

“I didn’t either,” she said softly. “But still… I should’ve trusted Jungkook. He’s my—” she paused, eyes fluttering to me, “—everything.”

Damn.

That hit deeper than she knew.

I reached for her hand beneath the table, locking my fingers with hers.

“Everything?” I teased. “Even more than chocolate lava cake?”

She nodded solemnly. “Even more than pizza.”

Yoongi laughed for the first time since walking in. “Guess I should feel honored to be eating this historic meal.”

“You should,” I said dryly. “It’s the first time I haven’t had to point a gun at someone while eating.”

“Yet,” Yoongi muttered.

I grinned, biting into my slice.

For a moment, it felt almost… normal.

And then, she turned to me — eyes curious, calm, a little teasing — and asked, “So… again, what exactly did you say to Junghyun on the phone earlier?”

I chuckled, licking my fingers. “You really wanna know?”

She nodded slowly.

“I said,” I leaned toward her like I was telling her a bedtime story, “that the girl he once thought he’d love now carries my child. That he can’t even touch the shadow she walks in anymore.”

Yoongi choked on his drink. “Jungkook—”

I held up a hand. “I wasn’t done. I also told him that his time is running out. That hell has a door, and I’ve already carved his name into it.”

Y/n blinked.

I gave her a boyish smile, completely unfitting of the words I’d just spoken. “Then I told him to go cry to his mommy.”

She blinked again… then burst out laughing.

Yoongi looked between us like we were insane — and maybe we were.

But that was the thing with darkness.

Once you’ve lived in it too long, it either devours you or you learn to laugh in its face.

And right now, at this table — scarred, bruised, half-broken — we were laughing.

And maybe that was enough to keep the darkness away for one more night.