As I stepped out of the cab, I hesitated for a moment, letting the door swing shut behind me. The driver had taken the long way through the city, and I hadn't minded. I'd found excuses along the way—reasons to cancel, to turn around. But now, here I was, standing in front of my childhood home.

The mansion looked the same as ever, with cream-colored double doors, the long driveway stretching ahead, and rows of perfectly manicured rose bushes framing the property. Yet, something felt different. The place that once held my happiest memories now stirred something heavy in my chest. It didn't feel like home anymore. I told myself I was overthinking it, letting my emotions cloud my judgment but the unease stayed with me.

I approached the double doors, pausing to take a deep breath. My father had reached out this morning, this time, almost pleading for me to talk to him.

Rai had told me that my father wasn't doing well, though he hadn't pushed me to speak to him. That wasn't Rai's way. He had simply shared what I had been blind to see for the past few months. Apparently, my father had started drinking again. And after everything that had fallen apart between him and Mr. Jeon, he was practically jobless now.

I wasn't worried about him finding work. My father had always managed to land on his feet. Besides, he had paid off all his debts over the last two years. He didn't have to fear financial ruin anymore.

I was done feeling guilty for other people's choices, but that didn't make me heartless. I still cared about my father, still wanted him to be okay. More than that, I needed closure. That's why I came here today. I wasn't doing this for him. I was doing it for me.

There were too many questions still haunting me at night, questions I had never asked, and truths I had never fully listened to. My father hadn't had the chance to explain his side of the story. He had lost the most important person in his life too, only to uncover the ugly truths afterward. I knew he was hurting. My mother had chosen to believe someone else, to doubt the love my father had always shown her.

But it was easy to deceive people. We all ate lies when our hearts were hungry. Even though my mother had been treated with nothing but devotion, she had still chosen to believe that it was all a lie.

Before I had the chance to ring the bell, one of the maids opened the door. Louisa greeted me with a wide smile, her eyes lighting up at the sight of me. It had been months since my last visit, and I forced a smile in return. Not everyone needed to know about the tension between us but I was sure the maids could still feel it.

She led me inside, mentioning that my father was waiting for me in the sitting area just outside the living room. As I rounded the corner, he came into view, standing by the window and watching the dark clouds gather in the sky. A storm was brewing, inside and out.

The fireplace was lit, casting a warm glow across the room as I descended the two steps toward him. He didn't hear me approach at first, but the sound of my boots on the marble floor gave me away. He turned quickly, his eyes meeting mine.

His eyes filled with tears almost instantly, though he quickly tried to blink them away, scratching the corner of his eyebrow like he always did when he was trying to compose himself.

"You came," he said, his voice carrying that familiar warmth.

I nodded, unable to trust my voice to stay steady. He motioned toward the couch across from him, silently inviting me to sit.

"Louisa will bring you something to drink," he offered gently.

"I'm good. I won't be staying long," I replied, my tone firmer than I expected. If my words hurt him, he didn't show it. He knew this was his one chance to explain himself, and he wasn't going to risk losing it by trying to make me stay longer or saying the wrong thing.

Maybe I was being unfair to him, just as I had been toward Jungkook. But unlike Jungkook, my father was just as responsible as Sophia for the betrayal, keeping secrets from me that I had deserved to find out long ago. Perhaps it had been his fatherly instinct to protect me from heartbreak, but I was twenty-eight years old, for God's sake. I could handle things like an adult. Especially reality.

Keeping the real reason behind my mother's death wasn't protecting me. I had spent countless nights as a child wondering if I was to blame for it. After all, childbirth wasn't easy. Any woman could find herself in a position where her body simply couldn't take the strain anymore.

And what about the things he had done afterward? I knew he had tried to be there for me, but he was only human, capable of his own depression and sorrow. Yet, I had raised Rai almost on my own while still being a kid. I had chosen my father's happiness over my own by trying to become someone I could never be.

He had abandoned me in the early months of my marriage, leaving me although I had agreed to the marriage to save him. Those were the things I planned to bring up as soon as he began to speak. I would let him start because he was the one who needed to apologize.

"How have you been?" he asked at last, attempting to ease into the conversation.

I shrugged. "Good. Rai told me you started drinking again."

"Oh. Uhm—not too much. You don't have to worry," he quickly explained, but I knew he was bullshitting me. I could see it in his red-rimmed eyes and the way his hands shook. It was sad that this was his way of escaping when things got serious.

"Rai mentioned you were staying at a hotel. He didn't tell me which one, though, or I would have come to you."

I raised an eyebrow. "You could have asked me instead of expecting me or someone else to reach out and tell you."

"Right." He nodded at my harsh words, his gaze dropping to his feet. I felt like a bitch, but some people needed a wake-up call to take responsibility. "I didn't know if you would answer," he admitted, his voice low. "You haven't replied to any of my text messages."

"Because you only texted me twice, asking if I was doing alright," I spat, unable to hold it in any longer. "You know, I didn't come here to fight. I came because I thought you would apologize or finally explain things. Instead, all you're doing is making excuses for why this conversation is happening now. Three fucking months after everything."

I held up three fingers, trying to emphasize my point. I never raised my voice at my elders let alone curse in front of them, but I was frustrated, tired, and hurt. I felt like no one understood me.

"I don't know how to apologize! I don't know what I can say to make you understand how ashamed I feel," he yelled back, his voice rising before he softened it.

He wasn't angry, just as frustrated as I was. "I failed you as a father, and nothing, absolutely nothing, can make that right."

"You don't know your daughter well enough, then," I shot back. "I've forgiven and forgotten in the past, even without you apologizing. I just wanted to see some effort this time, but clearly, I've been waiting in vain."

My voice broke toward the end, and I tried to cover it by coughing. A lone tear slipped from his eye, and he shook his head, the weight of our shared pain hanging between us.

Would we ever be okay again? Would we forget and laugh about the past, thinking how foolish we had been to let it become a thorn in our sides? It certainly didn't feel like everything would be okay—not anytime soon, anyway.

Maybe we needed to yell at each other and throw things around to truly express our sorrows and the shattered pieces of our hearts. I knew for sure I had many more scars than he did. I had always tried to be a good daughter, and honestly, I thought I had done a decent job. I loved him, despite everything, but perhaps he just wasn't cut out to be a single dad.

Sometimes, I found myself wondering how different things would have been if my mother had been alive. What kind of life would we have lived together?

"I'm sorry, Reva. I truly am. I don't know if I've used up all my chances for forgiveness, but please know it broke me the most to see you sad," he said, his words filled with honesty. But whether they were enough was another story.

Sometimes, you could feel the sincerity and see the raw emotions, yet you remained dead inside, unmoved. Maybe it was too late this time to start anew. I would forgive him, as I always had, but perhaps it was time to move on and not expect much in the future.

"Maybe I needed to get over my sorry self and truly be there for you. Buying you things or playing games once a week isn't enough to call myself a father. I know your mother would have wanted better for you."

"I didn't know her, but I like to think that," I replied with a nod, a lump forming heavily in my throat. I swallowed hard, realizing it threatened to choke me.

The question I wanted to ask sat on my tongue, but this conversation hadn't begun well anyway, so bringing it up felt like it might lead to even more misery.

"We only had a few days, but... did she love me?!

"Yes. So much." Dad's eyes grew glassy as he reminisced. "She was in labor for thirty hours. She cried and screamed, enduring so much pain. But the moment she held you in her arms, she forgot everything. She was the happiest and most blessed person on this earth," he said, a fond smile spreading across his face. "We fought hard to have you, Reva. Your mother died a happy woman, knowing she left the most beautiful person for the world to see."

I brushed a tear from my eye, not caring that he was watching me the whole time. It was indescribable to know I had a mother who loved me more than her own life, yet I had no memories of her—no voice to recall, no warmth of her hug to remember. Was it possible to crave the presence of someone you never knew?

"I just—I don't understand how and why and..." I broke off, overwhelmed by my confusion. Finally, the conversation seemed to be taking a better course, and maybe we would be able to have a mature talk.

Dad sighed, scratching at his stubble, which had clearly grown longer since he hadn't been shaving regularly. "Blair was a loving woman. Sometimes too naïve for her own good. I loved that about her, don't get me wrong, but she often didn't see the ill intentions of others."

He paused, the weight of his memories settling in. I unconsciously toyed with my fingers, picking at the dead skin, probably making it bleed. "When she and... Hayun," he said, his voice thick as he paused at her name. I saw the rage flash in his eyes. "When they became friends, I didn't think much of it. We went to the same high school. She was at our wedding. Then she got Yoongi and Jungkook, and your mother was heartbroken. Despite our efforts, she just wasn't getting pregnant. We went to doctors and everything. Until we finally made it."

"One day, when I was at work, I got a new client. Their son had fallen victim to murder, and I had to be their lawyer. There wasn't much evidence, so I worked my ass off to help them. They were hurting, having lost their son at just 19 because of some gang-related issues. I couldn't accept that the murderer would get away with it. So I did everything I could, and the judge sentenced the murderer to thirty years in prison. He was another 19-year-old who had come here to work for his family in Mexico."

My eyes shot open at his words. Dad nodded slowly, as if he could read my thoughts and knew exactly that I had connected the dots. "Was it Sophia's brother?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah." He let his head sink, and silence fell between us.

We took those few seconds to let it all sink in. The day I had found out everything and Sophia had begun to speak, she hadn't mentioned anything about her brother.

"I visited the boy once after the trial. At first, he didn't want to talk to me, but I persisted. I felt a pang of sympathy and guilt listening to his side of the story in court. I mean, he was still a murderer, but I could see in his eyes that he hadn't wanted things to turn out the way they did. He told me about his mother and little sister and how he felt he had failed as the head of the family. Three years later, I found out he was murdered by an inmate, which traumatized me more than I wanted to admit."

As the daughter of a lawyer, I had heard the craziest stories, and this was definitely one of them. People didn't realize how messed up the world could be at times, looking through rose-colored glasses just because their own lives were perfect. Tragedies have existed throughout human history, and it was easy to forget that in the face of comfort.

"Your mom was two months pregnant at the time, and I didn't want to burden her with the cruelty of the world when she was supposed to be the happiest person on earth. Everything was new, and I was terrified something could happen to her or you. So, I stopped telling her about work, even though I used to share everything. That's also when I met Sophia. It felt like a miracle—maybe even fate, if you want to believe in that. I didn't ask her questions, and she didn't volunteer information. I got her a job at our house to make things better and help her. I wish I hadn't done that. I regret it now. Maybe I was just as naïve and good-hearted as your mother, and look where that got me."

"You couldn't have known she would betray you that way," I said without thinking. Those were the first comforting words I had uttered in a long time.

"I should have been more careful. Fast forward three months, and your mother was showing, taking excellent care of herself. Sophia was helping her around the house since the doctor had advised caution. I was working like a maniac, wanting to provide the best life for you. That led to late nights and early mornings, and I wasn't home much. I made sure to tell her how much I loved her every day, but I see now that it wasn't enough. I had to be present to prevent Hayun from slithering into our lives like a poisonous viper. She saw the opportunity to use my hard work against me.

"Our families were acquaintances. We knew each other long before high school, just like you and Jungkook," he continued. As soon as his name fell from his lips, my heart began to flutter. I straightened up, even though a part of me wanted to slump back against the couch.

"I didn't think much of it. I was just glad someone was keeping Blair company since she wasn't leaving the house much. I realize now that I left her alone with two of the most dangerous people. One was a jealous and vicious woman, and the other was desperate. You know everything else after that, so I don't think I need to repeat it," he finished, finally looking at me.

"No, you don't," I agreed, forcing myself to breathe as I realized I had been holding my breath. "Where is Sophia now?"

"Don't be mad at me, but I talked to her two days after you left," he said apologetically. I shook my head. I knew he would reach out to her. But it still hurt to know he did that before even talking to me.

"What did she say?"

"She said she and her mom would be leaving soon and how sorry she was for everything. She cried the whole time, apologizing over and over for all of it when all I did was provide her a home and an income to care for her mother," he explained, a mix of grief and determination in his voice. I didn't blame him. I believed that, at some point, she had been his friend and the only one who stood by his side through the loss of his wife. That had to hurt.

"So, she faked not being able to talk all these years?" I asked, the question weighing heavily on my chest. I couldn't comprehend how someone could manage that without slipping.

"No," he replied, and my eyebrows shot up in surprise. "She told me she truly couldn't speak for about seven years. Apparently, after your mother died, Hayun got scared Sophia would talk, so she had her attacked in an alley. Sophia was terrified to the point that she thought she would die. It affected her brain in some way. She could make sounds but couldn't form words without stuttering severely, so she decided it was safer to never talk again. That was what the doctor told me back then when I got to the hospital after her attack. I thought it was some theft attempt."

Sophia had played a significant role in my childhood. When my father wasn't around, she was there for me. I often wondered whether it was out of genuine care, a sense of obligation for her pay, or perhaps guilt for the pain she had caused. My mother had succumbed to heartbreak, believing her husband was unfaithful, and that devastation had ultimately led to her death.

I knew I would probably never be able to forgive Sophia, even if that realization hurt in ways I couldn't fully understand. I wanted her gone, yet I also wished for her and her mother to have a financially stable life. Everything she had done stemmed from their struggles with poverty and helplessness and a brother lost.

"She wanted to talk to you before she left, but I don't think she dared to look you in the eye," he added. I turned my gaze to the window, where the sky was now cloaked in dark clouds. A few drops of rain slid down the glass, mirroring the weight in my heart.

"I don't think that would have ended well," I sighed. It was getting late, and I felt I had gotten what I came for.

Just as I was about to stand up and leave before the storm forced me to stay, my father's voice stopped me. "What about Jungkook?"

"What about him?" I feigned confusion, even though I knew exactly what he was asking.

"Have you talked to him?" His hopeful tone matched the expectant look in his eyes.

"I did," I replied shortly.

"And?"

"I–" I hesitated, the words catching in my throat. Just thinking about our last conversation twisted the knife in my heart. I couldn't shake the image of his teary eyes or the way he had confessed his love for me. That night had been a blur of tears, leaving me to wake with bloodshot eyes and a pounding headache.

"That man was a mess. He called me every day to ask if I had talked to you," my father said, a slow smile creeping onto his lips. He had always liked Jungkook, even though he knew our marriage had been arranged from the start.

"I met up with him and told him that I forgive him. It wasn't his fault anyway." I exhaled a heavy breath, and tears filled my eyes against my will. My voice trembled as I continued, "And I talked to my lawyer. Because I'm filing for divorce."

Shock and confusion filled his face as he looked around, as if he couldn't grasp the words I had just spoken. "Divorce? Reva, honey." He was instantly by my side, taking a seat in the empty space next to me. Gently, he took my hand into his larger one, warm and comforting—a sensation I hadn't felt in weeks.

"Honey, look at me," he urged. I peered up at him through wet lashes, surprised at how easily I fell apart while discussing this. Before I could gather myself, I collapsed against his chest, sobbing into his shirt. He rubbed a hand up and down my back, murmuring sweet reassurances that everything would turn out okay and that he was there for me. For the first time in years, I believed his words and held onto him a little tighter. I had thought I was out of tears, yet here I was, proving myself wrong.

"It hurts so much," I sniffed after several minutes of crying against him.

"Then why are you ending things this way? I know a man in love when I see one, and Jungkook is more than just in love with you. I saw that man suffer, probably more than I did. Why are you filing for divorce if you've forgiven him?"

I rubbed at my eyes and runny nose, creating a little distance between us. None of the scars on my heart had come from an enemy, and that was what hurt the most. The struggle of deciding to let go while wanting to hold on was tearing me apart.

"I'm scared of looking at him but seeing his mom instead, remembering all the things she's done. I can't hurt him like that, Dad," I choked, urgently wiping away more tears.

"I understand that. I really do," he nodded, his voice calm, though heavy with empathy. "But letting go of something so beautiful and so real because of something that might happen isn't the right way. I know you're hurting, and I know you hate Hayun. But, Reva, I never stopped loving your mother, even when I knew she didn't believe me." His voice faltered as the memories clearly overwhelmed him, but he continued.

"Do you know how much it hurt, knowing she would rather believe someone else than the man who loved her with everything? But I never stopped wishing I could hold her again. Even after everything, I would give anything to forget, to forgive, just to have the chance to love her again."

His words settled deep within me, like a stone sinking to the bottom of a still, dark lake. Would I ever regret walking away from Jungkook? Would I spend years yearning for what we could have had, all because of something I might never be able to forget?

"That's different," I whispered.

"I know it is," Dad said gently. "Everyone's writing their own story. I won't tell you what to do because that decision is yours to make. But it's not easy to erase and rewrite it all over again. We don't get to go back and change things in life. I just want what's best for you."

I stood up then, unable to respond to that. What could I even say? He was right, but it didn't change how I felt. There was nothing left to say that wouldn't tear me apart even more.

"I need to go," I muttered, halfway up the stairs and heading toward the door. I didn't look back. I couldn't bear to see the disappointment or pain in his eyes. I just wished future-me could somehow tell me what to do or what not to do.

Stepping outside into the cold air, I was relieved Dad didn't follow me. The storm had begun to unleash its first drops, and I regretted not bringing my car. Waiting for my Uber in the freezing rain felt like an eternity. When the driver finally arrived, I climbed into the back seat without a word, my chest heavy. I didn't look back at the house, not even once.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

By the time I made it back to the hotel, I was drenched in cold raindrops. My clothes clung to me, soaked through from the downpour. A hot shower was exactly what I needed, a place to let the tears flow freely and to cry out the remnants of my conversation with Dad. Maybe then, I could sleep.

But the storm outside had other plans. The rain pounded against the windows with relentless force, sounding like an angry torrent. My body tensed with each whip of water against the glass. At least there was no thunder, I thought—right before the sky cracked open, a roar so deafening it made my heart lurch. The room lit up for a few seconds, sending shadows dancing wildly across the walls, and I jumped in reflex.

No, no, no. Not now. Please, not now.

The storm had no mercy. Another thunderclap followed, this one even closer, shaking the walls. My breath quickened as my pulse raced. The darkness of the room, the sound of rain battering the world outside, and the flashes of lightning made everything feel more suffocating.

My tears started to fall again, blending with the fear that consumed me. I tried to tell myself it was just a storm, nothing that could physically hurt me. But the child in me, the one who always hid from thunderstorms, came rushing to the surface.

I hugged my knees to my chest, rocking slightly. My brain knew better, but logic didn't matter in moments like this. It never had. The fear took over, whispering awful, terrifying thoughts. I wished I wasn't alone, that someone could be here with me. Someone who would understand, hold me and tell me I was safe. But no one was coming to save me. Not tonight.

Another rumble of thunder split the sky, and I covered my ears, praying for the storm to end, for the noise to stop, and for my heart to quiet its frantic beating.

I was embarrassed for feeling this way, even though I knew it was a phobia, something I couldn't control. The shame clung to me like the storm itself, making me feel small and powerless, like the little girl I had been when this fear first started. I desperately wanted it to stop, but it only seemed to get worse. Maybe it was because I was already broken, shattered into too many pieces, and my fear was feeding on that, gnawing at me from the inside.

I couldn't stop myself from thinking back to that one night when Jungkook had been by my side during a storm just like this. He hadn't judged me, not even for a second. He had understood without words, pulling me into his chest, trying to distract me from the chaos outside our bedroom walls. He had held me through the night, his warmth and calm steadying my racing heart. That next morning was the first time I had woken up in his arms, feeling safe, content, and at peace.

The memory made the tears fall harder. I cried until my vision blurred, and I didn't even realize what I was doing until I had my phone in my shaking hands. Before I knew it, I was dialing a number I had barely touched in weeks. It rang only once before the call connected.

Another deafening thunderclap filled the air, making me flinch, and I squeezed my eyes shut as a tear slipped down my face. "Jungkook," I whispered. But as soon as I heard his breath on the other end, I panicked. What was I doing? Why had I called him?

Realizing my mistake, I hung up before he could say a word.

The storm continued and I forced myself to take deep breaths. It was helping only so much but it was better than just sitting there and crying my eyes out. I counted to ten, inhaled for several seconds, and exhaled for longer ones.

I didn't know how much time passed doing these breathing exercises until there was a gentle knock on my door. If I hadn't been hyperaware of my surroundings, I would have missed or mistaken it for another thunderclap. I got up from the bed, not caring to wipe at my eyes or look through the peephole before I opened the door.

And there he was standing.

I stood frozen at the doorway, staring at him. Jungkook was drenched, his dark hair sticking to his forehead, his clothes soaked through and clinging to his body. A shiver ran through him, but he didn't seem to care. His gaze softened as it fell on my tear-streaked face, and for a brief moment, I saw the flicker of pain in his eyes before he met mine again.

My bottom lip trembled and he exhaled a breath. "You came." I sniffed.

Water dripped from his lashes, but he still didn't move, didn't wipe it away.

"All you have to do is call my name and I'll come."

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A/N: ahhhh these two😩😩😩 I can't wait to write the next two chapters and finally end this story. We're close y'all🥹