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kooffeecup · 2 months ago

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࣪ ִֶָ love wins all ࣪ ִֶָ .

Summary ᝰ.ᐟ

You ended things with Miyeon to escape the web of his lies—but the truth was far heavier. Your heart had begun to crave something it shouldn’t: the quiet warmth of his father, Jungkook. pairing : ex boyfriends father ! Jungkook x you Genre : angst, age gap, forbidden love, fluff? credits : edited by me | picture resources from pinterest. status : oneshot.

a/n : just read you are gonna love it

The wind was cool against your cheeks as you stood near the edge of the River. You didn’t expect to see him, not here, not now.

“Y/N?” That soft voice, polite, gentle, hadn’t changed a bit. You turned, and there he was Jeon Jungkook. Miyeon’s father.

He was dressed simply, dark coat buttoned up, hands tucked into his pockets. His face was calm, but his eyes, they searched you like they were holding questions too delicate to ask.

“I wasn’t sure if it was you,” he said with a small, warm smile. “It’s been a while.” You nodded slowly, the corners of your lips twitching upward. “Yeah it has.”

For a moment, silence filled the space between you, comfortable yet heavy.

“I… I heard about the breakup,” Jungkook said quietly, looking down at the ground for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “Miyeon doesn’t talk about it much. But he was different after. Still is.” You looked away, biting your lower lip.

Then he asked it. Not accusingly. Not with anger. Just curiosity laced with sadness. “Why did you leave him?”

You inhaled deeply. The words you had prepared if ever this question came never made it past your lips. Instead, you just smiled. A soft, pained kind of smile. One that said everything and nothing at once.

Jungkook didn’t press. He only nodded, as if he understood even without an answer. “You’re a good person, Y/N,” he said quietly. “Whatever happened I hope you’re okay.”

His kindness made your chest ache. He always was gentle. A soft soul in a harsh world. You looked at him one last time before turning back to the river. “Thank you, Mr Jeon.”

He gave you space. Respectfully, quietly. Like he always did. But that moment lingered, two hearts who once shared the same family, now just strangers under the same night sky.

You kept your eyes on the water, watching the way it flows under the city lights. The silence hung between you and Jungkook, but it wasn’t uncomfortable anymore, it was waiting. Waiting for you to speak.

“I always wanted someone who wouldn’t judge me,” you said quietly. “Someone soft spoken, gentle. With a kind heart.”

Jungkook’s head tilted slightly, his expression still and listening. You finally looked at him, eyes soft but wounded.

“But I never found any of that in Miyeon.” Jungkook didn’t flinch, didn’t defend his son. He just waited, letting you speak freely, without fear.

“He made me feel like I was something to show off. He pretended to make me his, to care, but it was all surface. No depth. No, real softness.” Your voice cracked just a little. “Everything about us felt like a performance. And I was tired of performing.”

Jungkook’s eyes fell to the ground, his brows furrowing. There was a quiet pain in his face, not just because of what you said but because he believed you. And that hurt in its own way.

You sighed, your arms folding across your chest as you looked back at the river. “I never needed grand gestures. Just someone who made me feel safe. Someone who saw me, not someone who needed me to fit into his perfect picture.”

The wind picked up, brushing your hair across your cheek, and Jungkook reached out instinctively to tuck it back. His fingers hesitated before touching you, then retreated, respectful, always.“I’m sorry,” he murmured. You blinked, surprised. “For what?”

He met your eyes, voice soft. “For not raising him better.” That made your heart ache in a whole different way. You stepped back slightly, shaking your head. “It’s not your fault.” Still, Jungkook looked like he carried the weight of it. “You’re nothing like him,” you added softly.

You exhaled slowly, your gaze tracing the soft waves across the water. The weight of your words lingered between you and Jungkook, and you could feel the tension shifting not from discomfort, but from quiet understanding.

“The person I wanted,” you began softly, “was never Miyeon.” Jungkook turned to face you, his posture still gentle, patient. He didn’t interrupt, not once.

“I wanted someone honest. Someone whose warmth wasn’t just for show. Someone who didn’t need to pretend to care, or wear a version of love like a mask when others were watching.”

You looked down at your fingers, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. “But Miyeon,” You smiled faintly, bitterly. “He was good at pretending. At making things look perfect from the outside. But when it was just the two of us, I couldn’t feel it. And I couldn’t bring myself to keep loving that version of him, the one that only existed when it was convenient.”

Your voice dropped to a whisper. “I think part of me kept hoping that the person he pretended to be, might one day become real. But I was wrong.”

Jungkook remained silent, his face unreadable gentle, but quiet in a way that made you wonder what he was holding back. You glanced at him. “I didn’t stop loving because I gave up. I stopped because I couldn’t keep lying to myself.”

His eyes met yours then, soft and deep, like he saw something he wasn’t sure he was allowed to see and feel. “I understand,” he said finally, voice barely above a whisper. “More than you know.”

His words lingered and the way he looked at you in that moment, it wasn’t just about Miyeon anymore. Something else stirred quietly between you and the man standing beside you. Jungkook hadn’t said much, yet his eyes held a softness that pulled the words right out of you.

You took a breath, steadying yourself. “As the days went by,” you said, voice low, vulnerable, “I started to realize something.”

Jungkook’s gaze never wavered, but he didn’t press. He just waited.

“I found the person I was always looking for.” You glanced at him, then quickly looked away, cheeks burning despite the cool night air.

“Someone soft-spoken. Someone with a kind heart. Someone good, not just in the way they spoke, but in how they treated people when no one was looking.” You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly tight.

“But it wasn’t Miyeon.” “It was…” You hesitated, voice trembling just enough to betray the emotion behind it. “It was you. I never wanted to make things worse. Never wanted to make anything bad or uncomfortable,” you continued, your voice fragile now. “So instead of acting on my feelings, I broke up with him. I let him go.”

You looked at Jungkook then, finally, truly and your eyes stung with everything you had carried alone.

“I couldn’t even look him in the eyes when I ended it. Even though it was him who deceived me first.”

Jungkook’s brows pulled slightly together, his lips parting like he wanted to say something but no words came. His expression was unreadable: surprise, pain. Jungkook didn’t speak right away. He stood still, as if your words had rooted him in place. The kind of stillness that wasn’t silence, it was restraint. His gaze dropped to the pavement, and for the first time since you’d known him, you saw a crack in his composed, polite exterior.

When he finally looked up, his eyes were glassy, not from tears, but from the weight of things he had never said.

“You don’t know how many times I saw it,” he began, voice low, steady. “The way he talked to you or didn’t. The way you looked like you were slowly folding into yourself.”

You looked down, your fingers curling tighter into your sleeves.

“I wanted to say something,” Jungkook continued. “So many times. But I didn’t think it was my place. He was my son and you were his. I didn’t want to overstep. I thought if I said something, it would just make things worse.”

His jaw clenched slightly, eyes flicking toward the river before resting on you again. “But the truth is,” he said, softer now, “I noticed you more than I should’ve.”

Your breath hitched.

He took a step closer, not too close, just enough to close the distance between two people no longer hiding behind politeness.

“You were always so gentle. So patient. You deserved more than what Miyeon gave you, Y/N. And maybe it makes me a terrible father to admit it, but,” he paused, a slight shake in his voice now, “you felt more like mine than his. Not as a daughter. Not even as someone I had a right to want. But just someone I wanted to protect. Someone who made things feel quite Peaceful.”

Your lips parted, stunned not by what he said, but by the way he said it. Like he’d been carrying that truth for longer than you could imagine.

“I didn’t know you felt the same,” he whispered. “But I think a part of me hoped.” He stepped back then, giving you space again like he always did.

“I would’ve never crossed that line,” he said gently. “I still wouldn’t. But now that I know, I just needed you to know too.”

Neither of you moved. Nothing feel the same anymore. Not after that. The silence after Jungkook's confession wasn’t heavy. It was delicate, fragile. You stood there, heart thudding like it had been waiting years for someone to finally say the right thing.

You looked at him again.There was no trace of guilt on his face. Just quiet sorrow. The kind that came from holding back for far too long.

You stepped forward, closing that small space he had respectfully created. “I didn’t expect you to say that,” you admitted, voice barely audible over the wind. “I thought I’d carry it forever alone.”

Jungkook’s lips tugged into the faintest smile, sad, knowing. “You weren’t alone.”

Your throat tightened. “If things were different, if I hadn’t been with him—”

“Don’t,” Jungkook cut in gently. “Don’t blame yourself for any of this. You did the right thing. You walked away.”

You nodded slowly, but your eyes betrayed you, filled with everything you hadn’t been allowed to want.

“I just wish I met you differently,” you whispered. “Not as his girlfriend. Not like that.” His jaw tensed again, like the thought pained him too.

“If I met you differently,” he murmured, “I think I would’ve fallen for you all the same.” Your breath caught in your chest. He took a deep breath, then smiled faintly, eyes soft. “You still deserve peace. Someone who doesn’t just see you, but honors you. Someone who isn’t me.”

That sentence broke your heart again. But before you could speak, Jungkook looked at you with something deeper than longing, close to love but bound by timing, duty.

“I'll always respect you,” he said, voice warm and heartbreaking. “But if you ever need someone who listens, I’ll be here.” You stared at him, not sure whether to cry or say thank you. Instead, you nodded.

Then slowly, quietly, he turned and walked away. But not before glancing back once. That single look said everything he couldn’t.

—

Jungkook’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter than he intended as he drove down the quiet streets. The night air outside felt cold, the weight of your words pressed heavier with every mile.

“I found the person I was always looking for. It wasn’t Miyeon… it was you.”

Those words echoed through his mind, repeating over and over, each time they grew harder to ignore. His fingers tapped the wheel, the rhythm slower now, like he was trying to keep pace with his racing thoughts. The confession wasn’t something he had expected, especially not from you. You had been his son’s girlfriend, someone he should never even dreamed of seeing in a different light. And yet, here you were, making him question everything.

The drive felt endless. Jungkook could feel the coolness of the night creeping through the car windows, but the warmth that had sparked inside him during your conversation was still there. It lingered, impossible to shake.

He was older. He was Miyeon’s father. He should’ve never let himself imagine something different. But he couldn’t stop.

The way you spoke about Miyeon, the way you described him pretending to be someone he wasn’t, it all made sense now. It clicked in his mind how carefully he had watched you from the sidelines, how he had noticed the quiet sadness in your eyes whenever Miyeon wasn’t around. The way you seemed to shrink a little more each day, your true self buried beneath his son’s shadow.

And then the way you had looked at him tonight. It was as though you had peeled back every layer of pretense you had kept for so long.

No. I can’t let this go any further. I’m his father. I’m not the person you need. He repeats in his mind. But it didn’t matter how many times he told himself that. Because the truth was, he had been that person for so long, the one who saw you when others didn’t, the one who noticed your quiet strength, your kindness. He had seen what Miyeon couldn’t, or wouldn’t. Could he really pretend it was nothing?

His chest tightened as he rounded the corner, the glow of the streetlights flickering softly outside. He needed to focus, needed to let this thought go. But as the road stretched out in front of him, all he could think about was you. And how, in some parallel world where things were different, it could’ve been him standing there with you. Not Miyeon.

The road blurred as Jungkook’s mind drifted to another day, the day that had shifted everything inside him, even if he didn’t realize it at the time.

It was the anniversary of his late wife’s death. The house had been quiet, as it always was on days like this. Jungkook had been alone in their living room, sitting in front of the fireplace. His eyes were fixed on the photo of her, the one that sat on the mantelpiece. The one that never seemed to lose its weight, even though years had passed.

He’d been staring at her smiling face, the sadness in his heart as palpable as ever. Her death had taken something from him that he didn’t think could ever be restored. He smiled at the photo, a sad, bittersweet smile as memories of her filled around him.

He hadn’t heard you approach, but there you were, standing behind him, your presence warm and quiet. There was no judgment, no rush to say anything to make him feel better. Just the simple comfort of being there.

"Life goes on for the living, Mr. Jeon," you had said quietly, your voice soft yet steady.

He turned to face you, startled by your words. But somehow, they didn’t sting. They felt true. In a way, it was exactly what he needed to hear. Life did go on. Even if it felt like everything was frozen in time when he was alone with his thoughts. Even if he couldn’t shake the pain of losing her.

He studied you for a moment. The way you stood there, not intruding on his grief but acknowledging it. There was something in your eyes, deep and understanding. You weren’t offering him empty comfort. You were simply reminding him that life had a way of moving forward, whether we wanted it to or not.

That moment lingered in his heart, unspoken, until now. You’d given him something he hadn’t even realized he needed: permission to move forward, not just for the sake of his late wife’s memory, but for himself.

It was then, in the quiet of that day, that he started to notice things about you. Things he hadn’t before. The way your presence seemed to fill the room without trying. The way you didn’t speak much, but when you did, your words seemed to make more sense than anyone else’s.

And now, as he drove, he remembered that day like it was yesterday. The softness in your voice, the compassion in your eyes, the quiet strength you held.

It was never supposed to be you, he thought. You were supposed to be off-limits. But somewhere along the way… he stopped seeing the line.

He wasn’t sure when his feelings for you had crossed the line from simple concern to something more. Maybe it had always been there, buried under years of politeness and respect. Or maybe it had started that day when you stood behind him, offering nothing but understanding and truth.

Life goes on for the living, Mr. Jeon.

And here he was, years later, unable to let go of that truth. Unable to let go of the feeling you had stirred within him. The one that whispered that, it was time to move on. Not from the memories of his late wife, those would never fade, but from the role he had built for himself as a grieving husband. Maybe life had more for him, too.

As Jungkook drove through the quiet streets, his mind couldn’t help but revisit that day, the day that seemed so far away, yet so close, like it had only just happened. His late wife’s face was still fresh in his memories, her laughter, her touch, and her voice.

She used to say the same thing to him, all those years ago. He remembered the warmth in her eyes, the gentle way she would remind him that life moves on, even when we don’t feel ready.

“Life goes on for the living, Jungkook.”

She’d said it to him so many times, especially after her illness had taken its toll. Her words always came with a soft smile, her way of trying to lift him out of the heavy grief that threatened to consume him. But back then, he hadn’t understood. He’d clung to the past, to the loss, unwilling to let go of the life they had shared, and to her, that had always been a weight on his heart.

“Life goes on for the living.” He had heard it so many times, but it never quite reached him until now. It never felt real until you said it to him. It was as though those same words, spoken in such a different context, had somehow found their way back to him, but this time they felt like an invitation rather than a reminder.

He wasn’t comparing you to her. He wasn’t trying to draw parallels. But in that moment, something inside him shifted. Life had sent two people into his life who thought the same, who shared the same sentiment, only in different times, in different ways.

He dont know, Was it fate? Was it just coincidence? The questions swirled in his mind, but he didn’t have answers. All he knew was that both of you had spoken those words when he needed to hear them most. His late wife had said them to help him heal, to remind him that he wasn’t bound by grief. And now, you said them to him, making him wonder if there was more to life than the quiet solitude he had wrapped himself in all these years.

He didn’t compare the two of you, he couldn’t. His late wife had been his everything. She had been his partner, his love, his guide through life. And you, You were someone completely different. Someone who had come into his world unexpectedly, someone whose presence had slowly become more than he ever intended.

But still, Jungkook couldn’t ignore the connection. The way you had understood him when no one else did. The way you had offered him comfort not in grand gestures, but in quiet words just like she used to.

As he drove, the realization hit him. He wasn’t looking for someone to replace her. He wasn’t seeking to find a replica of the love he had lost. But life had brought you into his world for a reason. You and your gentle understanding, your kindness, your words, so similar, yet so unique had become part of his healing, part of his journey. And though he didn’t know what that meant, he couldn’t ignore the pull.

The pull that kept him thinking about you even when he didn’t want to. The pull that kept him questioning whether there was more for him in this life than the grief he had carried for so long.

Jungkook let out a long breath, his mind still swirling with the weight of everything you had shared. His heart, though, felt lighter. He didn’t know what the future held. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with these feelings. But he did know one thing: life had sent two people into his life who thought the same, who had seen him in a way no one else had. And that meant something.

—

The house greeted Jungkook with stillness as he stepped inside. He took off his coat, shoes and padded down the hallway, gently pushed open Miyeon's door.

There he was, fast asleep, his face relaxed, untouched by the weight of heartbreak or memory. Jungkook lingered by the doorway for a moment, taking in the peaceful rise and fall of his son's chest. A part of him felt guilt gnawing at the edges of his heart. Miyeon had no idea that while he slept, his father was carrying a truth heavy enough to split him open. A truth that had a name, a voice, a smile,Yours.

But Jungkook didn’t step into the room. He only watched for a few seconds more before quietly pulling the door shut again and walking to his own room. And there, resting above the nightstand, was the picture that had anchored him all this time. His wife. Her eyes still held the same brightness. Her smile still reached into the hollow spaces of his heart. Jungkook sat on the edge of the bed, leaned forward, and stared at her photo.

“Hey,” he whispered, as if saying it any louder might shatter the fragile peace in the room. His throat tightened.

“I… I met her today.” He smiled. “Y/N.” He gave a soft chuckle under his breath, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You would’ve liked her. She’s got that same quiet strength you had. She doesn’t talk much, but when she does it’s like she already knows exactly what you need to hear.”

His gaze softened, heavy with emotion. “You always said life goes on for the living. And for so long, I didn’t understand what you meant. I thought it was just something people say to make death easier to swallow.”

He looked away for a second, then back at the photo. “But today, she said the same thing to me. Years ago, actually. On your anniversary. I didn’t think anything of it then. I didn’t let myself think anything of it. But tonight, after what she told me…”

He exhaled slowly but painfully. “…I think she’s the reason I’m still standing. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I wasn’t looking for her. But she found me. I’m not trying to replace you. I never could. You were my home,” he whispered, voice trembling. “But maybe… maybe life sent her to remind me that I can still feel. That I can still be something other than a man frozen in time.” His fingers brushed against the edge of the photo frame. “I just thought you should know.” He sat there a little longer, letting his heart speak in the silence.

What Jungkook didn’t know was that as he sat on the edge of his bed, whispering confessions into the silence and memory of his wife, his son was standing just beyond the door.

Miyeon had woken moments earlier, stirred by the soft click of his door. He’d rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stepped out to get a glass of water, but what stopped him in his tracks was the sound of his father’s voice. Very quiet, Heavy and honest. And full of pain Miyeon hadn’t heard from his father in years.

He had leaned against the wall, out of sight, listening. Listening as his father uttered a name he hadn’t expected to hear. Y/N. Miyeon’s breath hitched when he heard it. And as he stood frozen there in the hallway, the words began to pierce deeper.

“She’s the reason I’m still standing.”

“I’m not trying to replace you…”

“…but maybe life sent her to remind me I can still feel.”

Each line dropped like stones into a lake Miyeon didn’t even realize he had within him filled with confusion, betrayal, hurt. At first, he thought he had misheard. But there was no mistaking it. His father wasn’t just talking about you. He was feeling something for you.

Miyeon’s jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. He didn’t know whether to burst into the room or disappear into the night. His legs felt numb, but his heart, his heart burned.

He had loved you. Maybe not perfectly, but in a way he did. And you had walked away without a reason. No explanation. Just silence and a smile that screams goodbye. Now it made sense. Now it hurts in a different way.

Without making a sound, Miyeon stepped back from the door. His eyes looked colder now, but not from hatred, just from the shock of a son realizing he might’ve lost more than just a girl. He turned and walked back to his room, closing the door softly behind him. For the rest of the night no one in that house slept soundly.

A soft knock echoed down the hallway. Jungkook, seated on the edge of his bed again, looked up at the sound. The door was still slightly open, and when he turned his head, he saw Miyeon standing outside his room, just standing, not moving, not looking at him. Just staring at the ground. Jungkook stood slowly. “Miyeon,” he said gently, “do you want something ?”

Miyeon’s eyes flickered toward his father, unreadable. There was something different in his posture, not angry, not broken. Just quiet, too quiet. “I didn’t know what to say,” Miyeon murmured after a long silence.

Jungkook stepped closer. “Then say it now.” Another silence. Heavy, filled with thoughts, Miyeon wasn’t sure how to word. “I just…” Miyeon exhaled. “I was standing outside your room last night because I thought you might be hurting. Missing mom.”

“I always do,” Jungkook replied softly.

Miyeon nodded, then looked up, straight into his father’s eyes. “But you weren’t just talking about her. You were talking about Y/N.”

Jungkook blinked, unsure whether to speak or listen. He chose the latter. Miyeon let out a breath through his nose, a bitter laugh. “At first I was confused. Then I was angry. I kept asking myself if I misheard. If I misunderstood. But I didn’t, did I?”

Jungkook didn’t try to deny it. “No,” he answered quietly. “You didn’t.”

Miyeon’s lips pressed into a thin line. “How long?”

“There was never a thing between us,” Jungkook said quickly, firmly. “Not a line crossed. Not once. But feelings, don’t always ask permission before they arrive.”

Miyeon nodded again, slowly this time. “So that’s why she left me. Not because she stopped loving me, but because she was trying not to love you.”

Jungkook didn’t respond. His silence was confirmation enough.

“I should hate you,” Miyeon said, his voice thickening. “But I don’t. I’m just tired. Tired of pretending I’m okay. Tired of feeling like everyone leaves and no one explains why, mom left me too and so did yn.”

“I didn’t mean to take anything from you,” Jungkook said, his voice almost breaking. “Especially not her.”

Miyeon’s eyes held an unreadable resentment, sadness, and even acceptance. “You didn’t take her,” he said. “I think she is already gone. From me, at least.”

Then, with nothing more to add, Miyeon turned to leave. But before walking away, he paused and added quietly, without looking back, “If you really care about her, don’t let the guilt kill you before you even try.”

And then he disappeared down the hallway, leaving Jungkook standing there conflicted, heavy-hearted, and more sure of what he felt than ever before.

—

Few Weeks later :

Jungkook stood frozen in the doorway, heart slamming against his ribs. Miyeon’s room was a mess of half-zipped duffle bags, strewn clothes. The sight alone was enough to ignite panic deep in Jungkook’s chest. “Miyeon” he breathed out. “What are you doing?”

Miyeon looked up from where he was folding a hoodie and smiled softly. “Don’t panic, dad.”

Jungkook took a cautious step inside, eyes scanning the luggage, the tickets on the bed. “Why are you packing?”

Miyeon zipped up one of the bags and turned toward his father. “Remember that scholarship I mentioned? The one I applied for and you said ‘don’t get your hopes up, just do your best’?”

Jungkook nodded slowly, still unsure where this was going. “Well,” Miyeon exhaled, holding up a paper with a proud grin, “turns out your useless son isn’t that useless after all. I got it.”

Jungkook stared, blinking. “You, got it?”

Miyeon chuckled, his tone warm and a little smug. “Full ride. Abroad. Six months of intense research work, project mentorship, the whole deal. I wanted to surprise you, so… here I am.”

Jungkook’s heart lifted and ached all at once. “Miyeon, that’s…God, that’s amazing.”

His voice cracked with pride. But there was also something else beneath it, fear and worry. Miyeon tilted his head, noticing the flicker of emotion in his father’s face. “You okay?”

Jungkook stepped closer, gently gripping his son's shoulder. “I’m proud of you. So proud. I just, I didn’t expect it to be so soon. I didn’t know you were even close to getting it.”

Miyeon looked down for a second before softly saying, “I needed space, dad.” That landed heavy between them. Jungkook didn’t try to fill the silence with excuses or apologies. He just nodded. “I understand.”

Miyeon looked up again, eyes clearer now. “I’m not running away, okay? I just need to figure out who I am without everything weighing me down. You, her, this house, it’s too much right now.”

Jungkook swallowed hard and nodded again. “Just promise you’ll call. Let me know you’re okay.”

Miyeon’s smile returned, softer this time. “ I will Dad .” They stood there for a long moment, father and son, surrounded by baggage both physical and invisible. Then Jungkook pulled him in for a hug. One they both needed more than they realized. They slowly pulled away a knowing smile on both.

Then Miyeon zipped the last of his bags and slung his backpack over one shoulder, glancing around his room like he was trying to remember it just as it was. Jungkook stood quietly, watching, unsure whether to speak again, still trying to process the shift between them.

Miyeon turned to him, gaze softer now. “Dad…” Jungkook met his eyes.

“I lost her because of my own stupidity,” Miyeon said, not bitter, just honest. “When I first saw her, she was beautiful. Like, really beautiful. Someone I could have on my arm and show off, someone I thought would make me look good.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed a little, sensing the weight behind his son’s confession.

“I didn’t know her,” Miyeon continued, his voice quiet. “Not really. And when I started realizing she liked a different kind of person, someone gentle, someone thoughtful, I panicked. I pretended to be that. Faked the softness. Faked the listening. I didn’t even try to be better. I just tried to appear better.”

Jungkook stayed silent, not because he didn’t want to respond, but because this moment belonged to Miyeon.

“She saw through me eventually,” Miyeon said with a sad smile. “She’s smart. Too good for what I gave her. And I hurt her. Badly.” He looked away for a second, then back up at his father. “If you ever see her again, tell her I’m sorry. Not the sorry people say to ease their guilt. I mean the kind that comes from knowing you broke something that was never yours to break.”

Jungkook looked stunned, but Miyeon chuckled softly. “Don’t look so surprised, dad.” Then, with a half-smile, he added, “Don’t stop your feelings for me. Chase her. You hear me?” Jungkook’s breath caught.

“She’s hurting without you,” Miyeon said, eyes steady. “I could tell when she left. That wasn’t peace, that was her running from something too big to handle. You were never the problem.”

“I thought maybe it would be selfish,” Jungkook finally whispered. “To even feel anything for her.”

“It would be selfish,” Miyeon said, slinging his bag over both shoulders, “if you let it die with guilt instead of living it with care. Be better to her than I was.

—

The drive back from the airport was quiet. Jungkook kept one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting near the gear, fingertips absently brushing against the edge of the wallet in the cupholder.

His mind replayed the conversation with Miyeon, over and over. "Don’t stop your feelings for me, dad. Chase her."

Jungkook exhaled, a small chuckle escaped his lips. “He grew up,” he whispered to the empty car. “God, he really grew up.”

He parked the car in front of the house. The moment he stepped inside, the silence of the house felt different. Not hollow but full of something new, a new beginning & Hope.

In the quiet, Jungkook sat on the edge of the couch, pulling out his wallet. Inside, tucked carefully between an old receipt and a faded note, was a photo.

His late wife. Smiling, holding baby Miyeon close to her chest. Her eyes held a calmness he could still remember like yesterday. He stared at the picture for a long time, thumb brushing over her face.

“Our son…” Jungkook’s voice was hoarse, low. “He grew up the way you wanted him to.”

His eyes stung a little, but he didn’t cry. “He’s not perfect,” Jungkook went on, a small smile forming on his lips, “but he’s learning. He’s trying. And he’s kind. God, you’d be proud of how kind he is.”

He leaned back against the sofa, still holding the picture, and closed his eyes for a moment. “You always said he’d surprise me.”

The memory of her voice echoed in his head—“He’ll find his way, Jungkook. Even if it’s not through you.”

And she was right. He looked up toward the ceiling, eyes soft, filled with a strange peace. “You gave me two miracles in this life. One was him… and the other…”

He stopped for a second, the image of you flashing in his mind, standing by the River, voice steady and eyes sad, saying everything he never expected to hear.

“The other one I got to know from miyeon… I let her go,” he whispered. But not again. Not this time.

—

The city was alive behind you, cars passing, couples laughing, a child crying over a dropped ice cream, but your little bench by the water remained untouched by the world’s chaos. Every Friday, without fail, you return here. To think, to breathe.

Today was no different except the ache in your chest felt deeper and heavier. The kind that settled into your bones and refused to be ignored.

You hugged your coat closer, the wind teasing strands of hair across your face, and let your eyes scan the slow-moving river. It looked so peaceful. So sure of its direction. You envied that.

Your mind wandered back, back to the months with Miyeon. The way he had smiled too easily. Said the right things too quickly. Held your hand but never truly saw you. It wasn’t dramatic; it wasn’t cruel either it was just… hollow.

And then, unexpectedly, in the cracks he left behind, there was Jungkook. His voice calm and gentle. His eyes never judging. Always listening.

You remembered the first time he’d walked past you here, nodding politely as if you were just another stranger by the water. You remembered how, over time, he stopped being a stranger at all. How your heartbeat had betrayed you when he looked at you too long. How guilt gnawed at you for feeling more in a single conversation with him than in all the months with Miyeon.

You pressed your lips together, blinking rapidly as your throat tightened. Maybe you were a bad person for it or maybe not. You tilted your head up, eyes closed for a second, whispering under your breath, “ God, Why did it have to be you…”

And just as those words left your mouth, A familiar voice behind you broke the silence. “Because maybe… it was always supposed to be me.”

Your breath caught. Slowly, you turned. There he was, Jungkook. Standing just like he did that first day, only this time, not walking past. Not avoiding what hung between you. His eyes met yours, soft but certain. There's no hesitation, no guilt. Only a man looking at the woman he could no longer stay away from.

You stared at him. He looked different, like something had shifted since the last time you saw him. Softer, yet more resolute. Like he’d made peace with something, or maybe decided he no longer wanted to run from what he felt. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Jungkook stepped closer, eyes never leaving yours. He nodded at the empty space beside you on the bench. “May I?”

You gave a small nod, swallowing hard as he slowly sat next to you, keeping a respectful distance but close enough that you could feel his presence. Neither of you spoke. Not right away. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, it was loud. Heavy with everything left unsaid.

You could feel your heart pounding against your ribs, could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. So many things swirled in your mind, but all that left your lips was— “I come here every Friday.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened. “I know,” he said quietly. “I came… hoping maybe you still would.”

You turned to him, brows drawn slightly. “Why?”

He looked down at his hands for a moment before speaking. “Because I needed to see you. I needed to tell you that… I heard everything. That night. What you said.”

Your stomach twisted. Shame flickered in your chest. “I didn’t mean for you to—”

“I’m glad I did,” he interrupted gently. “Because it gave me the truth. The one you were carrying alone.”

You looked away, blinking hard. “I never wanted to ruin anything. Especially not your family.”

“You didn’t,” he said, firm yet soft. “If anything… you helped it heal.”

You turned back to him slowly, eyes meeting his. Jungkook leaned just slightly closer, voice low but unshaking.

“I didn’t fall in love with you because you were hurting. I fell in love with you because you saw me, not as Miyeon’s father, not as someone broken by loss… just as me.”

Your breath caught again, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“And you,” he continued, voice barely above a whisper, “are the second chance life gave me when I wasn’t even asking for one.”

A tear slipped down your cheek.

“I tried to stay away,” you admitted. “I thought it was the right thing. But every Friday, I’d end up here. Thinking about you.”

Jungkook reached out, slowly, and brushed that single tear away. “I’m here now,” he said softly. “And I’m not going to walk past you again.” Your breath hitched as Jungkook’s fingers lingered briefly against your cheek, warm, grounding.

Your heart was loud, too loud. But instead of pulling away, you tilted your head toward him just slightly, eyes glossy, lips parted with unsaid emotions.

“I’m scared,” you whispered. “Not because of you but because I don’t know how to be something… forbidden.”

Jungkook’s gaze didn’t waver. “You’re not,” he said gently. “You’re not forbidden. You’re honest. You walked away when it hurt the most. You didn’t cross the line, I did, the moment I started thinking of you when I shouldn’t have.”

You let out a shaky breath, laughing bitterly. “We sound like a sad movie.”

He smiled, it was tender, boyish, like he hadn’t smiled like that in years. “Then let’s rewrite the ending.”

He stood slowly and offered you his hand. You hesitated only a second before taking it. It was so simple, fingers laced like a long-lost fit. No tension. No guilt. Just warmth.

The two of you walked along the path beside the river, footsteps quiet against the gravel. The silence between you now was soft, soothing, no longer heavy. After a while, he spoke.

“I still remember the day you said, ‘Life goes on for the living, Mr. Jeon.’”

You looked up at him. “Your wife said that too… didn’t she?” He nodded, a small smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. “All the time.”

You thought he might say more. But instead, he stopped walking and turned to face you, gently pulling you into the moment. “And now here I am,” he said, “trying to live again. Because of you.”

You finally stepped forward. Slowly, you reached up and cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing along the slight stubble he never bothered shaving on weekends. His eyes closed for a second under your touch, like he was memorizing it.

“I missed you,” you whispered. Jungkook opened his eyes again, those warm brown eyes staring right through you. He leaned in cautiously, and reverently, and pressed his forehead to yours.

“I missed us… even if we never really got the chance to be us.”

Your fingers loosely intertwined with his. The world was calm. The weight on your chest felt lighter than it had in weeks, maybe even months. Jungkook broke the silence first.

“You know…” he started, voice low, thumb gently brushing the back of your hand, “Miyeon asked me to tell you something.”

You turned to him slowly, your heart giving a little twist at the mention of his son.

“He said he was sorry,” Jungkook continued. “For lying to you. For pretending to be someone he wasn’t. He said he saw you as someone beautiful, someone to show off but he didn’t know how to be the kind of man you actually needed.” Your breath hitched.

Jungkook looked out at the water, like he was replaying the moment in his mind. “He laughed a little when he said it. Told me, ‘Don’t stop your feelings for her, Dad. She’s hurting without you. I’ll be fine.’”

Your eyes filled with quiet tears. “He really said that?”

Jungkook looked at you, smiling softly. “Yeah. And he meant it. I think… that was the moment I realized how much he’s grown. And how much you helped him do that.”

You swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to hurt him. I never did.”

“I know,” Jungkook said. “And he knows too.” Jungkooks words carried with it a strange peace.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “For telling me. For… everything.” He squeezed your hand a little, leaning closer.

“No,” he murmured. “Thank you… for giving us both the chance to become better.”

You and Jungkook didn’t begin with love. You began with silence, misunderstandings, wounds that weren’t yours to carry, and a goodbye that was never really final. But life has its way of circling back.

He found you again not as his son’s ex, not as someone tangled in guilt but as the woman who saw him when he thought no one ever would. And you saw him as not the perfect man, not the father or the widower but the man who listened, who remembered, who showed up even when it hurt.

Miyeon left with an understanding he didn’t have before, his apology gave you closure, and his acceptance gave Jungkook freedom.

And now, there’s no more pretending.No more secrets. No more stolen glances across lines that once felt forbidden. Just two people, Still healing, Still learning. But finally, not alone.

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