Five year had passed since Jungkook had last seen Y/N. He had imagined her smiling, thriving, maybe even happy. But the sight before him tore every illusion apart. Her eyes were hollow, shadowed by fear and exhaustion; her movements stiff, as if her body expected a blow at any moment.

He remembered the day he left her—the day he shattered her heart. His mother had pressured him to marry a rich girl, someone whose wealth and status would elevate the family. Y/N had been poor, but she had been everything he wanted—kind, brave, and beautiful. Yet he chose his mother’s wishes over love.

“I… I have to go,” he had said then, avoiding her desperate gaze.

“Please, Jungkook! Don’t leave me! Stay in my life!” she had begged, tears streaming down her face. Her hands had clutched his jacket, trying to hold onto the life they could have had together.

But he had walked away. The guilt never left him, gnawing at him silently over every year that followed. Now, seeing her like this, he realized how deep the wounds of that choice had gone.

Taehyung, his own cousin, had married Y/N not out of love, but out of lust and desire to control her. From the very beginning, he had made her life a living nightmare. She endured his cruelty: forced touches, bruising words, and controlling behavior. The children, though innocent, bore witness to her suffering. Taehyung ignored their needs, leaving Y/N to care for them entirely alone, even as he terrorized her in private.

Jungkook’s chest tightened as he noticed the subtle signs of her trauma: how she flinched at sudden movements, the way her hands shook when she adjusted the children’s clothes, the careful way she spoke, always measuring herself for fear of anger. Her body carried the history of assaults, her spirit the weight of years of control.

The children played quietly in the corner, whispering to each other, careful not to draw attention. Y/N moved among them with a mechanical grace—feeding them, helping with homework, soothing their fears. Each smile she gave them was carved from exhaustion and pain. Every act of care was a triumph of her courage, her endurance, and her fierce maternal instinct.

“Y/N…” Jungkook whispered, his voice tight with guilt and regret. “You don’t have to stay. Leave him. Take the kids. I… I can help you.”

She instinctively placed a hand over her swollen belly. Another child—another reminder of the man who had taken everything from her, and yet whose child she still carried. “I… I can’t, Jungkook,” she said softly. “I’m carrying his child… again. I can’t leave him—not yet.”

Jungkook’s hands clenched. Rage, despair, and helplessness churned within him. The man she was married to was cruel, abusive, and relentless. Yet Y/N endured—not for herself, but for her children and the life growing within her.

He remembered how helpless she had been the last time he saw her—how she had cried silently, begged him to stay, and yet he had walked away. He could see it all now: the regret, the lost years, and the suffering that could have been avoided.

Jungkook noticed every subtle sign of her torment. The way she flinched at a passing shadow. The way she moved carefully so as not to upset her abuser. The tension in her hands as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Each small gesture was a testament to the assaults she had endured and the control her cousin had over her.

Yet even in the darkness, Y/N carried herself with courage. She had endured years of pain, yet she shielded her children from the worst of it. Every day she survived, protected them, and carried her suffering silently. Her eyes, though haunted, were steadfast. Her voice, though soft, carried determination. She was broken, but not defeated.

Jungkook’s throat tightened. “Why didn’t I fight for you back then?” he whispered, anger and self-recrimination in his voice. “Why did I let my mother’s wishes destroy what we had?”

Y/N looked at him, her gaze tired but resolute. “I survived,” she said. “Even when it hurt. Even when I had nothing but fear, I survived—for them, and for the life inside me.”

The room fell silent. Outside, the faint sounds of children playing, the distant creak of the house, and the quiet hum of life continued, as though oblivious to the storm raging within these walls. Jungkook felt helpless, wishing he could undo the past, wishing he could shield her from the horrors that Taehyung had forced upon her.

For the first time in years, Y/N’s existence was a storm she could not escape. And Jungkook, powerless, could only witness her courage, her suffering, and the love that still drove her forward despite everything.

Even in the darkness, she moved forward. Not with freedom, not with peace, but with survival, with maternal love, and with an unbroken resolve to endure a world that had been cruel to her. And Jungkook knew that no words, no apologies, could ever restore what had been stolen—but perhaps, somehow, he could help her find a path forward, for the children, for the life inside her, and maybe, one day, for herself.

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