The morning sunlight spilled into the Jeon household, soft and warm, but Y/N felt nothing. She sat on the edge of the bed, hands resting over her stomach, pretending to feel the joy that motherhood was supposed to bring. Instead, her heart was heavy, each beat a reminder of the chains she carried.

Jungkook was in the kitchen, moving quietly, his hands steady as he prepared breakfast. The smell of eggs and tea should have comforted her, but she could only focus on the memories she could never erase.

Every glance from him, every word he said—even when gentle—sent a shiver down her spine. He was her husband now, the man who had forced himself into her life and body. And yet… she had to pretend. For Jay. For Ajumma. For the fragile illusion of a family that had been built on lies.

Ajumma entered the room quietly, her eyes soft as she looked at Y/N.

“Good morning, my child,” she said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Did you sleep well?”

Y/N forced a nod, lowering her gaze. “Yes, Ajumma. I… slept fine.”

Ajumma’s smile was warm, naive to the storm raging inside Y/N. “Breakfast is ready. I made some porridge for you too. Eat, or you’ll be weak, little one.”

Y/N followed silently, her steps heavy, her heart a cage. She ate mechanically, barely tasting the food, while Jungkook sat across the table. He didn’t reach for her hand, didn’t try to speak — he had learned, painfully, that any gesture from him would only remind her of the night she had never been able to forget.

After breakfast, Y/N excused herself, walking to the balcony. The city outside was waking up, the soft morning breeze brushing her face, but she felt suffocated.

Her hand went to her stomach instinctively, feeling the small life moving inside her. It should have been a source of hope, of comfort. But instead, it was a reminder: she had married the man who had ruined her body, her trust, and her heart. For Jay’s sake, she had swallowed everything.

The baby kicked again, and she whispered softly, “I’ll protect you. I promise you, I’ll protect you… no matter what happens with him.”

She closed her eyes, taking in a shaky breath, and tried to imagine a life where she could feel safe again. But how could she ever feel safe when the man sleeping under the same roof was her worst nightmare?

Later, Ajumma joined her on the balcony, humming softly. She didn’t speak at first, just sat quietly, letting the wind move their hair.

“Y/N,” Ajumma said after a long pause, “you’re not happy, are you?”

Y/N’s chest tightened. She turned to her gently, hiding the tremor in her hands. “I… I’m fine, Ajumma. Really.”

Ajumma shook her head slowly, her eyes searching Y/N’s face. “No, you’re not. I can see it. You carry a heaviness that no one else should carry. Even Jungkook…” She hesitated, then sighed. “Even he seems… lost. And yet, you two pretend everything is okay.”

Y/N wanted to scream, to confess, to tell her everything—the assault, the fear, the marriage built on her sacrifice for Jay. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t ruin the small peace that Jay had left, nor could she shatter the faith of the one person who had always loved her as a child.

“I… I have to be strong,” she whispered instead, her voice cracking. “For Jay. That’s all that matters.”

Ajumma didn’t push further. She only placed a comforting hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “Strength isn’t pretending to be happy when you’re not, child. Sometimes strength is crying when no one sees, and still waking up the next day to keep going.”

Y/N’s tears spilled quietly down her cheeks. She buried her face in her hands, letting the pain flow freely, knowing no one could ever truly understand.

The afternoon was unbearable. Jungkook tried to help Jay with his lessons, smiling at the boy in a way that should have made Y/N angry. But she only felt hollow, watching him laugh at things he had never noticed she hated. Every movement, every soft word he directed at Jay, reminded her that he could act like a loving man while being the monster she couldn’t

forget.

She excused herself and went to her room, locking the door. Sitting on the floor, she hugged her knees, her body shaking with frustration and helplessness.

“I can’t,” she whispered to herself, the silence heavy around her. “I can’t forgive you. I can’t… I can’t pretend my body doesn’t remember. I can’t pretend my heart doesn’t feel broken.”

Her hand instinctively went to her stomach. “I have to… for them. I have to… but how?”

The baby kicked softly, and she let a tear fall, imagining a life where her child would never know the pain she felt.

That evening, Ajumma tried to bring warmth into the room again, setting the table for dinner. Y/N joined reluctantly, eating slowly, mechanically, pretending to enjoy the food.

“Y/N, child,” Ajumma said softly, “I don’t know what has happened between you and Jungkook, but I can see the pain. You’re not alone anymore. Even if it feels unbearable, there’s someone to hold you now. You just have to let yourself breathe.”

Y/N looked up, meeting her eyes for a brief second. The warmth in Ajumma’s gaze made her want to confess everything—but she couldn’t. Not yet. Not ever.

She smiled faintly, almost apologetically. “Thank you, Ajumma. I… I’ll try.”

But inside, the weight remained. Jungkook sat across the table, pretending to eat, pretending everything was normal. And Y/N wondered if pretending could ever be enough to survive a life built on fear, guilt, and sacrifice.

Later that night, Y/N lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, Jay sleeping safely beside her. Jungkook was in the living room, quiet, too aware of the wall she had built around herself.

“I’ll survive this,” she whispered to the darkness. “For Jay… for my babies… I’ll survive. But I will never forget. I will never forgive.”

And under the faint moonlight spilling through the window, Y/N’s heart remained heavy, trapped in the shadows of her past, even as the world outside moved on.

Because sometimes, pretending to be a family was the only way to survive — but survival didn’t heal the soul.

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