IT'S HER

The empty hallway echoed with the sound of the wind—its only visitors. Outside, the trees rustled like a crowd in celebration, while thunder joined the distant cheers and applause spilling from the school auditorium. Lightning flashed across the darkening sky, warning of an unexpected storm approaching the city. But it was no match for the storm brewing inside a lonely boy, who wept in a cramped closet, trying to mend his broken heart.

His bloodshot eyes stung, and the salty tears seared his raw skin. The agony twisting inside him made it hard to steady his strained breath. He clenched the thin fabric over his chest, pressing against his pounding heart. Though it didn't erase his pain, the touch helped ease its frantic rhythm, and his ragged breathing began to slow. His heavy eyelids closed on their own as he leaned back.

A weary sigh slipped through his parted lips, and he ran his fingers through his damp, sweaty hair before dragging them down to wipe away the last stray tears.

The eerie silence around him drew his mind back to the moment he ran, a coward fleeing instead of facing the catastrophe. He had always known that the girl he cherished—the one he saw himself as a knight for—would ultimately belong to someone else, her prince.

Yet knowing the ending didn't prepare him for the sight of her being kissed by another. All the warnings he’d given himself and the distance he tried to keep for days crumbled when his heart finally shattered. He couldn't bear the stabbing pain. So he fled.

Soft sobs escaped him, and tears blurred his vision as the pain surged back, hitting him with tenfold force, stirring rage to scorn his own cowardice. A bitter growl tore from his throat, bile rising as his anger swelled. His once pale knuckles were now flushed crimson as he pounded his fists against the hard surface in front of him. With one final punch, he screamed into the emptiness until his senses grew numb to the pain.

He buried his face in his hands, panting heavily, as time seemed to mourn alongside his unhealed wounds. He didn't notice how long he had been lost in his grief until the sound of clicking heels and hurried footsteps pulled him back to the present.

Suddenly aware of his surroundings, a wave of apprehension hit him, and he decided it was time to leave the closet. But just as his trembling hand grasped the doorknob, he froze at the sharp cry of a female voice: "Don't!"

He froze, uncertain if the word was meant for him as the voice sounded familiar. Before he could dwell on it, a man's voice, filled with regret, snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Just listen to me, please," the man pleaded from behind her.

"I don't need your explanations," she said coldly. "The damage was done long ago, and I've come to terms with it over the years."

He hadn't meant to intrude, but with every word she spoke, she unknowingly compelled him to unlock the door and take a look.

"It won't hurt any less to know whether you desired me then or now," she said, her harsh swallow and tear-filled eyes masking the faint creak of the wooden frame. "So, it's better for us—better for you—to let it go."

A tug at his heart made his lashes flutter when he saw a glimpse of the Hepburn white dress he had chosen for her earlier that afternoon. He recognized her.

He lifted his gaze and met the vivid eyes he greeted every morning. However, the usual delight in his eyes was replaced by suspicion at the new figure in the scene. He was curious about the man but could only catch a brief glimpse of the stranger’s hand gripping her arm through the narrow gap in the door.

As he focused, his attention was drawn to a black ink tattoo on the man's wrist: a beautiful heart with a semicolon as its other half. He blinked several times, trying to clear the haze the design had induced, only to be confronted by another pair of delicate wrists reaching toward his face.

Stunned, he took her hand and gently brushed the rain-soaked hair and blood from her forehead.

"H-how?" His eyes widened as he looked at her limp, delicate body lying on the road.

"Jungkook . . ." Areum whispered, a single tear trailing down her pale cheek before a final gasp claimed her breath. His limbs grew cold, and his lungs felt constricted as his heart pounded wildly.

A gentle pat on his shoulder jolted him from his deep, lethargic sleep, yanking him wide awake.

"Huh?" Jungkook huffed, his agitation causing the girl standing beside the bed to take a step back. He dared to glance around, slowly becoming aware of the thin line separating reality from the hell he kept returning to.

Jungkook let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He brushed aside the damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead and untangled himself from the comforter, revealing a glimpse of his sharp v-line as it emerged from the waistband.

"Do you need something, Rhea?" he asked, pulling on a black T-shirt.

Rhea mentally facepalmed, realizing she’d been staring at his flexing muscles and totally missed his question. She scrambled to respond and made a complete fool of herself.

"I. . . I came to. . . I made. . . Breakfast is ready!" she blurted out awkwardly.

"Okay, I'll get ready," Jungkook nodded, oblivious to her slip, and headed into the bathroom.

Rhea busied herself making his bed, her thoughts swirling. She wasn't naive but a smart, capable woman. Still, she couldn't grasp why her composure faltered when she was around Jungkook—the frustrating stranger who had cost her her job after Saturday's incident.

Jungkook had stormed in and swiftly knocked Jackson down with a single, forceful punch after the drunken fool had dared to approach her yet again, despite her repeated rejections. Although she couldn't recall where Jake, her brother, had come from or why he was there, but something about his presence and the scream he let out triggered something in Jungkook, compelling him to intervene without asking Rhea for her consent in the matter.

"No! What did you—Who the hell are you and what were you thinking punching him?" She had screamed angrily at Jungkook, looking down at the unconscious body of Jackson Maine. His nose was bleeding and it made matters worse.

Someone was bound to hear the chaos and report it to the manager, who was already furious with her for her earlier outburst that evening. When they did, she was fired on the spot and denied her rightful monthly salary, with the ill-tempered manager accusing her of "causing a scene." All her hard work vanished simply because two guys thought it would be romantic to chase after a girl and "heroic" to save her, both for no apparent reason.

Rhea had always stood her ground, carving out her own path without anyone's help—not even her parents, who lived miles away in another country. (Though they never failed to check in on her.) So how had they come to believe she needed their help with anything?

She was livid, especially with Jungkook. He might be intimidating, but it was because of him that she was now jobless, and it only seemed fair that he should offer her a new one.

However, she began to have second thoughts as she shared this with Jungkook after he took it upon himself to drive her and her brother home. She was suspicious of his background and even wondered if he could be a criminal.

But her worries eased when Jungkook revealed that he was an architect at the renowned Kim Enterprises and offered her a job as his home caretaker, acknowledging that he owed it to her, as she had said. The pay was more than her yearly savings, and she accepted the job without hesitation. It was one of the jobs that didn't require a degree, and she was far from obtaining one without spending another year in college anyway.

Rhea set Jungkook's breakfast on the table—kimchi stew and cucumber salad—and waited for him. She was eager to see his reaction, as it was her first day on the job.

Jungkook arrived and took a seat in the chair, though he appeared tense. His mind was foggy, and his thoughts kept returning to the dream he had that morning. He was so preoccupied that he barely ate the food and rushed out of the house for the office.

Rhea was left in shock by this. However, she barely had a chance to process her thoughts before Jungkook left the apartment, tossing a quick, "Thanks for breakfast," over his shoulder as he passed.

When he reached the parking lot, a number of onlookers watched him as he got into his SUV, drawn by the ominous aura he exuded. He paid no attention to them, nor to the eye rolls and whispered remarks behind his back when he ignored his co-workers' greetings at the office.

He was well acquainted with the insincere smiles and the gossip that would brew over tea during lunch breaks. He knew his distant nature and lack of interaction were the reasons for the disdain, yet he chose to disregard it every time.

The answer why he did so was simple: his demons understood him better than anyone else did. The dark walls that confined him served as a refuge, protecting his vulnerable soul from the harshness and cruelty of the world.

For years, he had kept everyone at bay, preventing them from breaching his defenses and uncovering his true self. Yet his efforts seemed in vain when a certain individual standing at the foot of his office could read him like an open book.

Jungkook was absorbed in a brochure he provided to his clients when a lean figure silently entered his space and took a seat in one of the chairs aligned with the desk. The air grew thick with tension, making the silence almost tangible.

"Everything alright, Jin?" Jungkook asked, his eyes still on the brochure as he avoided meeting the elder's scrutinizing gaze after a few moments of silence.

"That's what I'm here to ask you," Seokjin said grimly. "Is everything alright, Jungkook?"

Although Jungkook had guessed the reason behind Seokjin's strange behavior, the harshness in Seokjin's tone was unlike anything he had ever experienced from him before. It made him realize that avoiding the conversation about that night was no longer an option and decided to address Seokjin's concern directly.

"I'm fine, Jin."

"Really?" Seokjin asked, glancing subtly at Jungkook's fist and wincing at the sight of the dark bruises around the knuckles.

"Yes," Jungkook answered firmly, pulling his hand out of sight.

Seeing his determination, Seokjin pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He was tired of beating around the bush.

"Who is she?"

"I'm sure you already know, considering you've figured out there's a 'she' involved," Jungkook sneered. "But to answer your question, she’s my new home caretaker."

It was a small thing, but Jungkook had sensed a pair of eyes watching his every move. Now that Seokjin had knowledge of the girl, it confirmed his suspicion that he had been spied on.

"But why? What was the need? I could have gotten you one if you had just asked," Seokjin snapped, unable to hide his frustration. He didn’t even glance at Jungkook, who stood leaning against the edge, facing away. Ever since he had heard about the fiasco, this was the one question burning in his mind. "You promised not to get involved in this kind of stuff. Did you forget that so easily?"

"What about the promise you made to me, Jin? Have you forgotten that so easily?"

Seokjin's heart skipped a beat, and the air seemed to leave his lungs. His eyes widened, not because Jungkook was questioning him for the first time, but because he sounded exactly like the desperate, scornful boy Seokjin had originally made that promise to. Where had that come from?

Of course, those hopeful words of concern had never left his mind, but somewhere along the way, he had silently wished for Jungkook to let go of the string he had clung to for so long. He had seen it bring out the worst in him, and he would never, not even with his last breath, want to watch Jungkook walk down that destructive path again.

Seokjin didn't want to assume the worst, but the venom in Jungkook's words and the contempt in his eyes pointed to only one possibility. There was only one way to be sure.

"What is this really about, Jungkook? Why are you asking me this now?" Seokjin stared unblinkingly as he leaned forward. When he got no response, he chose his next words carefully. "Jungkook, please be honest with me. Are the hallucinations or nightmares happening again?"

"No," Jungkook refuted, though the weight in his voice and the sudden tension in his body betrayed the lie.

Seokjin knew he had hit the mark.

"Alright," Seokjin said matter-of-factly. "I'm telling Namjoon to restart your medication." But all Jungkook registered was the sound of shuffling and footsteps signaling Seokjin's exit, even though he didn't glance over his brochure to confirm it.

It didn't take Jungkook long to reflect on their exchange and dwell on the situation as the illusions Seokjin mentioned resurfaced in his mind. Jungkook hadn't fully considered the consequences of admitting it to Seokjin.

Maybe it was the fear of losing sight of his goals, as he had once done during the healing process, and getting caught up in the world's empty promises. But now, with the universe giving him signs and offering another chance, he craved nothing more than to find the missing pieces he had been searching for from the start.

Jungkook dropped the brochure onto the desk and shoved his hands into his pockets. He straightened his posture, and approached the glass wall. He stared at his reflection, as if it were questioning why things had to be this way. For a moment, he envisioned a different reality where everything was right and he was reunited with his lost love, though it felt futile to long for something that was never his.

Shaking his head, he refocused on the busy employees in their cubicles. He wondered why his life couldn't be as simple and ordinary as theirs. Was that too much to ask for? Inhaling deeply, he almost turned on his heels when a familiar face appeared with an enchanting smile, halting his steps. His heart raced at the sight of her.

"Aera?" Jungkook mumbled under his breath, his expression a mix of disbelief and unmistakable longing.