#soomin's such a bitch i hope she turns out to be a real bitch to jeno too

[taeeflwrr]

i usually don't rb fics that aren't completed but this one's turning out to be so interesting and i have so many thoughts soooo

06 ; spaces between us | l.jn

pairing: dad!lee jeno x f!reader (ft. na jaemin)

genre: angst, slight fluff

synopsis — three years after divorcing jeno, you've found a careful rhythm in co-parenting your son jun. the old fights about his work schedule and emotional distance have faded into polite exchanges and shared custody arrangements. but when small moments of connection start to feel like second chances, you begin to hope that maybe you could try again. though, it all falls apart when jeno asks to introduce jun to his new girlfriend. suddenly, you're forced to confront a devastating truth: the man who claimed he "wasn't good at relationships" during your marriage has apparently learned how to love properly—he just needed someone else to do it with.

a/n: i can't believe we're already at chapter 6 :")))))) i'm writing this after a long day of workkkkkk so please go easy on the grammar mistakes if any! i'll proof read again when i'm awake! lowkey this chap sucks… hfdjskss but as always, thank you so much for all the love and support~ see you guys in chapter 7 <3

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jaemin was scrolling through his phone when the quiet rustling of fabric pulled his eyes up. you were stirring, slowly peeling yourself up from the couch with your eyes still half-lidded, your hair tousled from sleep. you blinked blearily, scanning the living room that had mysteriously been cleaned and your two friends passed out in exaggerated positions—chen le flat on his back like a crime scene outline, renjun curled up with a cushion under his chin.

you scratched your head groggily, letting out a tiny sigh. then, with a soft, determined noise, you started to rise, only to sway backward unsteadily.

jaemin was on his feet in a flash, catching you by the waist with one arm and bracing the other hand just above the small of your back. “woah—where are you going?” he asked in a hushed whisper, the corners of his lips tugging up in amusement.

you blinked at him, confused for a second, before gently pushing past him like you had a mission. “need to get covers... for le le and renjunnie…” you mumbled, your voice going high and sweet with sleep, like a sleepy child trying to sound serious. the sudden shift in your tone caught jaemin off guard—soft and unbearably cute. his heart tugged unexpectedly.

you stumbled again, and he was there once more, steady hands wrapping around your arm and shoulder. “okay, okay,” he whispered, half-laughing. “i’ll help you.”

you didn’t protest, letting him guide you down the hallway, your fingers still clutching onto his sleeve like a lifeline. in your room, you grabbed for the duvet covers from the closet, only for jaemin to gently take them from your arms, careful not to jostle you too much.

“hey i can do it.” you frowned.

“i know, but let me help you do it.” he said simply, voice warm and steady, looking down at you with that half-smile you didn’t quite know what to do with.

jaemin moved quietly, gently draping the covers over chen le first, then renjun—tucking them in like someone who’d done it before, who knew how to care even when no one was watching. they didn’t stir, lost to the haze of sleep and soju, soft snores filling the room.

he turned, ready to cover you too—only to find the space by the sofa empty.

his gaze shifted, and there you were, crouched by the full-length window, your arms loosely hugging your knees. the silver light from the streetlamps outside spilled across your face, illuminating the tired lines under your eyes, the deep crease in your brow. your lids were heavy with sleep—or drink—but your gaze was somewhere far, far away. he didn't need to ask where. he already knew.

his steps were slow as he came to sit beside you, close enough to offer warmth, not so close as to crowd. “are you not tired?” he asked gently, his voice softened by the late hour.

you didn’t answer at first. just hummed a vague, tuneless melody under your breath, the kind that sounded like it had lived in you for a while.

then, in a voice so quiet he almost missed it, you whispered, “i saw her today.”

your lips pressed together, forming a tight line, eyes still locked on the small backyard beyond the glass. the garden you always said you'd fix up but never did. the plants were withered, hanging limp in their pots. maybe from neglect. maybe from the weight of things unspoken.

jaemin didn’t ask who. he didn’t have to. he already knew.

and though it wasn’t his place—though he had no right—he felt it anyway. that flicker of quiet hurt on your face lodged somewhere deep in his chest.

“she’s han soomin,” you whispered, voice hushed like you were sharing a secret with national security implications. “as in the people we’re going against.”

your breath smelled faintly of beer and mint, and your brows were furrowed in such intense seriousness that it made Jaemin smile. not in amusement, but in soft disbelief—at how small the world was, and how tangled yours seemed to have become.

his lips parted slightly. “really?” he whispered back, leaning in just a little, matching your tone like you were both conspiring under the watchful eye of fate itself.

“yes,” you nodded, dramatically, as if confirming the final puzzle piece of a great mystery. you leaned your head against the cold glass, another sigh slipping from your lips, long and heavy. “she’s... her.”

jaemin didn’t answer right away. he just watched you in the dim light—your breath fogging a little patch on the window, your fingers drawing circles on your knee. then he crouched a little, trying to meet your gaze. “then all the more reason to win the case, don’t you think?” he teased, a slight lilt in his voice.

you puffed your cheeks out like a child caught between determination and drowsiness, your head wobbling slightly as you nodded. “yes. i have to,” you said, voice firm… or at least, as firm as someone half-drunk and fighting sleep could manage.

jaemin smiled—soft, fond, knowing. you’d forget this conversation by morning, most likely. 

and just like that, your head slipped onto jaemin’s shoulder—slowly, softly—like gravity had been waiting for the perfect moment to pull you toward him. this time, you didn’t stir or speak. your breathing evened out, lashes fluttering once before settling, and he knew you were truly asleep.

jaemin let out a quiet huff, somewhere between disbelief and a smile he didn’t mean to wear. “unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, eyes glancing down at you—at the way your lips parted slightly, your brows no longer furrowed in worry.

he adjusted slightly so your head could rest more comfortably, then ran his fingers gently through your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear with all the care in the world.

“you really don’t make this easy,” he whispered, barely audible, more to himself than to you.

you looked peaceful like this—unguarded and soft in a way jaemin didn’t often get to see. and the thought crept up again: jeno never truly deserved you. not with how he let you slip through his fingers. not when there were people in the world who would’ve chosen you every single day.

like this, with the weight of your head on his shoulder and the city lights spilling gently onto the floor beside you, jaemin decided he’d stay a little longer. just like this.

you were awoken by the unmistakable sound of sizzling—followed by the soft thud of a cupboard closing. your brows furrowed, still half-asleep, but then the warm, savory scent of bacon hit you like a gentle slap. you shifted under the blanket, groaning quietly as the echoes of last night pulsed behind your eyes. one eye cracked open. then the other.

the second cupboard slammed shut, and you jolted upright, hair a mess of stubborn strands and pillow creases. rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you noticed renjun and chen le already awake, crouched like cartoon spies behind the wall that opened into the kitchen.

you stumbled over and joined them wordlessly, your head still foggy, and there he was—na jaemin. in your kitchen. barefoot. sleeves rolled up. flipping bacon like he belonged there. and beside him: fully plated grilled cheese sandwiches, fluffy scrambled eggs, toast slices stacked with almost concerning perfection, and a mug that had steam curling from it in soft spirals.

chen le leaned in, voice barely a whisper. “he can cook…?”

renjun looked like he was watching a scene from a drama. eyes wide, one hand clutching the wall. “what can he not do?” he breathed.

jaemin, completely unaware of the silent audience he’d gathered, hummed softly as he gave the pan one last flick—golden-brown bacon landing perfectly in line with the rest. the sizzle was crisp and satisfying, like something out of a commercial. you blinked, once, then twice—still half convinced your dream hadn’t ended yet.

and then he turned around, catching all three of you watching him from the hallway with the kind of slack-jawed awe usually reserved for celestial beings descending from the heavens.

“staring is rude, you know?” he quipped, lifting an eyebrow in amusement.

startled, chen le and renjun scrambled to the dining table, pretending they hadn’t been spying like kids in a cartoon. you, still groggy and unsure if this was a fever dream or not, made your way slowly into the kitchen. jaemin, without missing a beat, handed you a mug of steaming black coffee. plain. exactly the way you liked it.

you blinked at the mug, brows furrowing. you were pretty sure you ran out of coffee beans three days ago.

then your eyes scanned the kitchen—grilled cheese, scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, juice. nothing in that spread looked like it belonged in your usually barren morning pantry. your frown deepened. “where did you get all of this?”

“the grocery store,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“you went to the grocery store?” you asked, still in disbelief. jaemin looked far too fresh, too put-together for someone who had supposedly gone shopping, cooked, and somehow also kept the house from burning down. did he even sleep?

truth was—while the three of you were snoring away, limbs flung in various directions across your living room, jaemin had quietly texted his assistant to do a grocery run. everything was delivered before sunrise, and he’d spent the early morning hours stocking your kitchen like it was a five-star Airbnb.

you opened the fridge, eyes going wide at the sight. fresh milk—the expensive kind from Hokkaido. neatly arranged packs of strawberries, blueberries, and shiny apples. a bundle of fresh spinach. and at the very back, a bright yellow box of Honey Stars peeking out like a guilty smile.

“you… stocked up my fridge?” you gasped, turning back to him in shock.

jaemin only shrugged, pouring orange juice into mugs for chen le and renjun. “i hope you don’t mind. i stocked up on jun’s favorite honey stars too. he told me he loved them, and that you rarely buy it for him.”

“yeah,” you muttered, sighing. “because he tends to finish the whole box the second i’m not looking—and it’s heaty for him.”

jaemin glanced over with a smirk. “then i guess you’ll just have to look a little more often.”

you opened your mouth to respond but found yourself at a loss for words. and jaemin—he just went back to plating breakfast, like refilling someone’s entire pantry was just part of a normal Saturday morning.

at the han river campsite, the morning was calm and crisp, with golden sunlight slipping through the trees and dancing on the water. jeno had kept his promise—he took jun on a morning cycling trip while Soomin stayed behind to prep breakfast. they rode along the winding paths by the river, laughter echoing as jun pedalled with all his might on his little bike, the wind catching his giggles.

now, they were resting under a tree near the edge of the riverbank. jeno leaned back on his elbows, catching his breath as jun sat cross-legged in the grass, happily plucking wildflowers and stringing them into a tiny, uneven bouquet. in the bicycle basket sat a plush toy—an oddly charming little green dinosaur with button eyes and a slightly crooked smile.

jeno’s brow furrowed in curiosity. he knew every single one of jun’s plushies by heart—from the ones he bought him to the ones you sewed yourself. but this one? this was new.

“junnie buddy,” he asked, nodding at the toy, “where did you get dino-nim?”

jun didn’t look up. he was busy giggling at a bug that had crawled onto his finger. “at the carnival,” he said with a bright, distracted smile. jeno sat up straighter. “the carnival?”

“mhm!” jun nodded enthusiastically, brushing the bug onto a leaf. “uncle jaemin brought mommy and me to the carnival. we got dino-nim from playing basketball!"

jeno blinked.

the image came fast and uninvited—jaemin, beside you, tossing a ball into the hoop, winning your son a plush toy. winning him over. the kind of memory you used to make with jeno.

jun giggled again, proudly holding up his half-finished flower bouquet, petals sticking out at odd angles. “should we give this to mommy?”

jeno smiled, but it barely reaches his eyes. “yeah… let’s do that.” he crouched beside jun, gently resting a hand on his small shoulder. “and how about we make one for aunty soomin too?”

he said it lightly, but the suggestion wasn’t casual—it was careful, deliberate. he was trying. trying to bridge something he could feel but not fix. Because he’d noticed it—how jun still kept a polite distance from soomin, never quite melting into comfort the way he had with uncle jaemin.

that name had rolled off jun’s tongue so easily. so often. like jaemin had become a part of the scenery, part of you.

and jeno hated how tightly that lodged in his chest.

it made something hot crawl under his skin—the thought of another man stepping into the quiet, ordinary moments he used to share with you and jun. a plush toy from a carnival. a memory that wasn’t his.

he looked down at jun, who had moved on to picking another flower, humming contentedly to himself.

jeno swallowed hard, keeping his hand steady on his son’s shoulder, even as his pulse betrayed him.

later, back at the campsite, the soft clatter of breakfast prep filled the air—cutlery clinking, birds chirping faintly overhead. soomin stood by the picnic table, flipping through the breakfast trays, when jeno returned with jun trailing closely behind him.

“soomin,” jeno called gently, a small smile tugging at his lips. “jun’s got something for you.”

jun clutched the bouquet of wildflowers tightly in his little hands, but when soomin turned around, his steps faltered. he looked up at jeno with uncertainty, then back at her, then quickly stared at the ground, chewing his lip.

jeno bent down a little, his hand resting lightly on jun’s shoulder. “it’s okay, buddy. you can give it to her.”

jun stood frozen for another second, then finally, with slow steps, he shuffled forward and held out the slightly squashed bouquet. his eyes didn’t quite meet hers.

“for you,” he mumbled, barely audible.

soomin blinked in surprise, then knelt down to take the flowers with a warm, gentle smile. “oh, these are beautiful. thank you, jun.”

jun gave a tiny nod, then retreated quickly, hiding behind jeno’s legs again.

jeno gave a quiet chuckle, smoothing jun’s hair, before glancing at soomin. “he’s not usually this shy. he’s just... still getting used to things.”

soomin met his gaze with a soft expression and shook her head. “i get it. really. i’m just happy he’s trying.”

jeno said nothing when he dropped jun off at your place on sunday. just a quiet “hey” when you opened the door, and a clipped “bye” when he turned to leave. not once did his eyes meet yours—like the hug you shared, the fragile peace you two made, had all been scrubbed clean from memory. like it never happened at all.

and that stuck with you. the way he’d built his walls back up in record time, higher than ever, locking you out again without warning. and god, you hated it. not just the silence, but the way it made your heart ache—like losing something twice that was already half-gone to begin with.

you arrived at the courthouse a full thirty minutes early. the nerves wouldn't let you sit still, so you wandered the marble halls, hoping movement might settle the storm in your chest.

then, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

you turned towards courtroom 3B, the doors slightly ajar. through the narrow gap, you saw him—na jaemin, standing at the center of the courtroom like he owned the ground beneath his feet.

he stood with one hand tucked in his pocket, the other holding a file as he addressed the witness. the courtroom was silent except for his voice—measured, confident, cutting clean through the air like a blade finding flesh.

"so just to confirm," jaemin said, stepping closer to the center of the room, "you approved the transfer without verifying the originating account?"

his tone was calm but sharp enough to draw blood. the witness shifted in his seat, fingers drumming against the wooden armrest like a nervous tic.

"i assumed the documentation was legitimate—"

jaemin tilted his head, brows raised in mock confusion. "you assumed?" he let the word hang in the air like a noose. "could you kindly point out which section in your company's compliance protocol lists assumption as an accepted standard for financial verification?"

"badgering, your honor," the defense attorney shot up, already unraveling at the edges.

jaemin turned to the judge without missing a beat, smooth as silk. "i'm challenging a sworn statement that reeks of gross negligence, not badgering—unless the facts are suddenly too uncomfortable to sit with."

"sustained," the judge said, firm but clearly intrigued. jaemin nodded as if even that ruling worked in his favor. he stepped back, composed, already ten moves ahead while everyone else was still figuring out the game.

murmurs rippled through the gallery. the opposing counsel tugged at his tie, visibly rattled.

jaemin walked to the evidence desk, setting the file down with deliberate care—a final piece sliding into place on a chessboard he'd been controlling since opening statements.

"your honor, let the record reflect that the witness acted outside company protocol, directly contradicting section 12-b of their internal fraud prevention framework."

he turned toward the jury, voice unwavering. "in plain terms—this wasn't an oversight. it was carelessness. and when carelessness costs millions, it's not an honest mistake. it's corporate liability."

the defense lawyer moved to object, but the judge raised her hand. "overruled. counselor, proceed."

for the briefest moment, as jaemin stepped back and the courtroom held its breath, he glanced towards the door. you froze behind the narrow crack, certain he'd seen you. but he didn't linger. didn't falter. he turned back to the stand with the same razor focus that had just gutted a witness in broad daylight.

"i have no further questions, your honor."

the gavel hit. the trial wrapped. jaemin had won—undeniably and effortlessly, though you're not surprised. after all, the courtroom is jaemin's arena and in here, he didn’t miss. every question, every objection, every pivot—calculated. ruthless. and manipulative. judges leaned in when he spoke. juries followed him like he was narrating a thriller. even the opposing counsel watched him like they were waiting for the storm to pass.

but jaemin was the storm.

he didn’t raise his voice. he didn’t need to. his confidence wasn’t loud—it was undeniable. the kind that made even the most seasoned attorneys second-guess their notes. in this courtroom, jaemin wasn’t just the best lawyer in the room.

he was the standard everyone else failed to meet.

you stepped into the corridor, still catching your breath when a voice slipped behind your ear.

"i thought i saw you earlier."

you jumped. "jaemin! can you not sneak up on people like that?"

he smirked, annoyingly pleased with himself. "couldn't resist. how'd i do?"

you rolled your eyes, arms crossed. "fine."

"only fine?" he clicked his tongue, mock disappointment dripping from his voice. "can't wait to see you later."

the reminder hit like ice water down your spine—your trial was next. and this time, it wasn't just any opposing company.

it was her company. han soomin's. jeno's girl. you wondered if jeno even knew yet. that you were the one leading the charge, the one coming for everything his lover's company had refused to settle over.

you were flipping through your file, eyes scanning your notes for the hundredth time—highlighted points, cross-referenced statutes, every loophole you intended to close today. the courtroom buzzed faintly around you, but your mind was locked in, laser-sharp.

jaemin had disappeared into the corridor five minutes ago, called away by his assistant for something “urgent.” you checked your watch. fifteen minutes till trial began.

you stood and scanned the room, heart rate picking up. renjun was supposed to escort your key witness, miss seo, through the back entrance—away from press, away from prying eyes. you looked for his familiar figure in the crowd—

—and then you saw her.

soomin.

walking past you with her legal counsel, poised and composed. her heels clicked confidently against the marble floor. she didn’t look anxious—not in the way a person should when facing a trial that could cost her company to go bankrupt. no, she was smiling. a slow, smug, knowing kind of smirk that curled at the corners of her lips as her eyes met yours and drifted down your frame. your gut twisted. something wasn’t right.

then you heard it—“y/n!”

renjun came barrelling through the hallway, panting, eyes wide. your blood ran cold when you don't see miss seo with him.

you rushed forward immediately, grabbing ahold of renjun's shoulder like your life depended on it. “where is she?”

renjun doubled over, catching his breath. “she’s—she’s gone,” he huffed. “i went to the prep room, and—her stuff’s gone. bags, coat, everything. she’s not answering her phone.”

you stared at him, stunned.

"they bribed her." renjun spat, frustration heavy in his breath.

and your heart dropped like a stone.

you’d expected dirty tactics—but not this. not the key witness vanishing minutes before the trial. not soomin walking in with that smile like she already knew the outcome.

and jaemin was still gone.

you sat in the hallway, the courtroom doors towering just a few steps away. your mind raced, flipping through every possible backup plan, every argument you could still salvage without miss seo’s testimony. but it was like trying to finish a puzzle with the centerpiece stolen.

you refused to back down.

this case had already cost you too much time, too much sleep—and you weren’t going to let soomin walk into that courtroom with a smug smile and walk out untouched. not after what their company had done. the lives they've destroyed. not after they rejected the settlement like they were untouchable.

you clenched your jaw, fingers gripping the file tighter. there had to be something. anything.

“y/n.”

you turned sharply. jaemin had returned—his tie slightly loosened, hair wind-swept from moving fast. but there was purpose in his stride, something sharp and burning in his eyes. without a word, he took your hand in his and pulled you with him.

“jaemin, what—”

“just come.”

he led you into a side prep room, shutting the door behind you. you were still catching up when he finally spoke.

“jewel corp became my firm’s client,” he said, voice low, almost apologetic. his hand still wrapped around yours, like he wasn’t ready to let go. not yet.

your breath caught.

“wait,” you said, eyes narrowing as the pieces began to fall into place. “they’re your client now?”

he nodded once, jaw clenched. “it was confirmed an hour ago." you pulled your hand away slowly, your chest tightening with the slow, creeping dread of understanding. “which means… you can’t represent me anymore.”

jaemin didn’t answer. he didn’t have to. the silence was confirmation enough. your gaze dropped to the floor, brain racing. you were legal counsel on this case—but jaemin had been your anchor, your strategist, your backup plan. now he was legally bound to the enemy’s side. and it wasn’t coincidence. not with soomin walking into court like she already knew the outcome. not with her smirk. not with your witness disappearing right before trial.

“she planned this,” you said, voice sharp with disbelief. “she knew we were coming for them. so she took out our witness and bought your firm.”

“we need to delay the trial,” jaemin said, eyes darting toward the courtroom door. “if they’re playing dirty, we buy time and prepare for it.”

“how?” you asked, voice tight. “we’re five minutes from start.”

“i called in a favor from an old friend. he's submitting a motion for continuance on your behalf right now—based on grounds of witness tampering.”

your eyes widened. “renjun said it out loud. that she was bribed. if we argue that the disappearance of your key witness was the result of interference—intentional obstruction—then it compromises the fairness of the trial. and that’s enough to request a postponement.”

you stared at him. “won’t that raise flags? if you’re on their payroll now…”

“which is exactly why i’m not filing it myself,” jaemin said, firm. “you’ll use a temporary solicitor. just for this hearing. i’ve already got someone briefed—someone who owes me.”

you exhaled slowly. your stomach was still a knot, but your mind was already recalibrating.

“so if we push this… what then?”

“then,” jaemin said, “you build the case without me. and you come back stronger. but for now—we buy time. that’s the only way to beat them at their own game.”

you sat at the plaintiff's table, posture stiff, heart pounding behind your ribs. the courtroom buzzed softly—papers shuffled, whispers exchanged—but your ears were tuned into only one thing: the ticking of the clock on the wall.

the courtroom settled into a hush as the bailiff called the room to order, the sound of the gavel ringing sharp against the wood.

you rose to your feet.

jaemin wasn’t next to you anymore. but his absence didn’t shake you. in his place, you stood tall, fingers brushing down the front of your blazer to steady yourself, clutching the folder of evidence like armor.

you glanced once toward the defense table, meeting soomin’s eyes. she sat perfectly composed, hands folded in her lap, wearing a navy suit that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent. her expression was unreadable—not smug, not worried, just... neutral. like she was watching a mildly interesting television program rather than facing a lawsuit that could topple her company's reputation.

then you turned to face the judge.

"your honor," you begun, “the plaintiff would like to request a motion for continuance.”

the words landed with the weight of a bomb. you could feel the shift in the room's energy—the way reporters leaned forward, the way the defense team's confident posture faltered slightly.

the judge looked up. “on what grounds?”

the opposing counsel leapt to their feet. “objection, your honor—this is last-minute and highly irregular. we’re ready to proceed—”

you didn’t flinch. didn't even glance in his direction.

“our key witness has disappeared under suspicious circumstances,” you said firmly. “as of this morning, she was accounted for. fully briefed. scheduled to appear. and now—she’s vanished. no message. no trace. and all of her belongings have been removed from her apartment.”

that brought the room to a near-freeze. “we have reason to believe this may constitute witness tampering.” gasps rippled across the courtroom like a dropped pin in a tomb. the judge’s eyes sharpened. “do you have documentation?”

you nodded once, and handed over a printed, sworn statement from renjun, detailing the timeline and witness disappearance. along with a copy of the hotel’s security log.

the judge read in silence. when she looked up, her expression had changed.

“i’ll grant the continuance.”

you exhaled—but it felt like coming up for air and you were ready to throw up. the defense immediately objected, slamming a hand against their table. “your honor—”

“you’ll have your trial,” the judge cut in, voice harder now. “but not today.”

// to be conitnued

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