The iron gates of Jungkook’s mansion loomed before Y/N, their intricate filigree glinting faintly under the pale afternoon sun. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of autumn leaves and the distant hum of the city. She pushed the gates open, the creak echoing in the stillness, and stepped onto the cobblestone path leading to the grand entrance. The mansion stood as it always had—imposing yet elegant, its white stone façade gleaming, ivy creeping up the walls like veins of memory. But something was wrong. The air felt hollow, the silence too heavy. Jungkook wasn’t here. The absence of his presence was a void that pressed against her chest, making every step feel like wading through quicksand.

Y/N pushed open the heavy oak door, the familiar scent of polished wood and faint lavender washing over her. The foyer was unchanged—marble floors gleaming, a crystal chandelier casting fractured light across the walls, and the grand staircase spiraling upward like a promise of memories. But without Jungkook’s laughter, his quiet footsteps, or the warmth of his gaze, the mansion felt like a ghost of itself. Y/N’s heart clenched as she wandered deeper, her fingers trailing along the banister, memories flooding her mind like an unrelenting tide.

---

She drifted into the dining room, the long mahogany table stretching before her, its surface polished to a mirror-like sheen. The chairs were neatly tucked in, but in her mind’s eye, she saw them askew, heard the clink of wine glasses and Jungkook’s soft laughter. A memory flickered to life, vivid and warm.

[FLASHBACK

“C’mon, angel, just one more bite,” Jungkook had teased, his voice a playful lilt as he leaned across the table, a spoonful of creamy pasta hovering near her lips. The candlelight had danced in his eyes, turning them into pools of starlight, his smile wide and boyish.

Y/N had laughed, swatting his hand away, her cheeks flushed. “Kookie, I’m stuffed! You’re gonna have to roll me out of here.”

He’d grinned, undeterred, leaning closer until his breath tickled her cheek. “Then I’ll carry you,” he’d murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sent shivers down her spine. “My angel deserves to be spoiled.”

She’d rolled her eyes but opened her mouth, letting him feed her the bite, her heart swelling at the way he watched her, like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. They’d spent the rest of the evening like that, trading playful banter, stealing kisses between bites, the world outside their bubble forgotten.]

Now, standing in the empty dining room, Y/N’s fingers brushed the back of a chair, the memory fading into the silence. Her throat tightened, and she whispered, “I miss you, Kookie.”

---

She moved to the grand staircase, each step a reminder of another moment etched into her heart. She paused halfway up, her hand gripping the banister as another memory surfaced.

[FLASHBACK: They’d been running up these stairs, Jungkook chasing her after a playful argument about who could eat more kimchi pancakes. Her laughter had echoed through the mansion, her bare feet slapping against the polished wood as she tried to outrun him.

“You can’t escape me, angel!” Jungkook had called, his voice bright with mischief as he caught up to her, his arms wrapping around her waist from behind. He’d spun her around, pinning her gently against the banister, his breath warm against her neck.

“Got you,” he’d whispered, his lips brushing her ear, sending a flush of heat through her. She’d turned in his arms, her hands sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders, her eyes locked on his.

“And what’s my prize for getting caught?” she’d teased, her voice soft, her fingers tangling in his hair.

Jungkook’s grin had been wicked, his eyes darkening as he leaned closer. “This,” he’d murmured, capturing her lips in a kiss that was equal parts tender and hungry, the kind of kiss that made her forget the world existed beyond his touch.]

PRESENT

Now, Y/N stood frozen on the staircase, her fingers tracing the spot where he’d held her, the memory so vivid she could almost feel his warmth. Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them back, her resolve hardening. “I’ll bring you home, Kookie,” she whispered, her voice trembling but fierce.

---

She climbed the rest of the stairs and pushed open the door to their bedroom, the familiar scent of Jungkook’s cologne and her perfume lingering in the air. The room was pristine—silk sheets neatly made, the soft glow of afternoon light filtering through the curtains. Her eyes were drawn to the headboard, where a large photo frame hung, capturing a moment from their past. Jungkook’s arms were wrapped around her, his chin resting on her shoulder, both of them beaming at the camera, their happiness frozen in time. Y/N’s lips curved into a bittersweet smile, her fingers brushing the air as if she could touch the memory.

“I’ll get you back, Kookie,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. She turned to the nightstand, where a smaller frame held a candid photo of Jungkook—his head tilted back, mid-laugh, his eyes crinkled with joy. She reached out, her fingers grazing the cool glass, when a voice shattered the silence.

But before she could soak in the emotion, a deep, manly voice sliced through the silence.

> “ Yn, where are you? You shouldn’t be here.”

Yn flinched, immediately placing the frame back on the nightstand. Her body stiffened. That voice—sharp, laced with tension. It had to explain too much. She already knew who it was.

Y/N’s shock morphed into fury, her hands clenching into fists as she stormed past him, descending the stairs two at a time. She didn’t stop until she reached the grand hall, her footsteps fierce against the wood floors. Her eyes locked onto the man standing near the entrance.

Taehyung.

“How dare you enter my house?” Y/N snapped, her voice cutting through the silence like a whip. “Get out, Taehyung.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a mocking smile. “This is how you talk to me, love?” His voice was smooth, but there was a dangerous edge to it, like a blade hidden in silk.

“Don’t call me love,” Y/N spat, her eyes blazing. “I’m not your love.”

Taehyung’s jaw clenched, his smile vanishing as he stepped closer, his voice low and venomous. “Do you have any idea how hard I worked to get you away from that psycho?”

SMACK.

Her hand met his cheek with such force, it echoed across the vast, silent mansion.

The slap left a red mark on Taehyung’s cheek with a force that echoed through the silent mansion. The sound was sharp, reverberating off the marble floors, and Taehyung staggered back, his hand flying to his face, his eyes wide with shock and hurt.

His head turned slightly, processing the sting—but the pain in his eyes was deeper than his skin.

Yoongi, Jin, and Namjoon burst into the hall, their footsteps halting as they took in the scene. Y/N’s chest heaved, her voice trembling with rage as she pointed at Taehyung.

“My Jungkook is worth a thousand of you!” she shouted, her words ringing with conviction. “I know everything, Taehyung. Mr. Choi told me what you did. You kept him from reaching me the day after our breakup. You told him I was yours, you manipulative bastard!”

The air in Jungkook’s mansion hung heavy, thick with the ghosts of laughter and love that once filled its halls. Yn stood frozen at the base of the grand staircase, her pulse thundering in her ears, her hand still tingling from the force of the slap she’d delivered to Taehyung’s cheek. The echo of it lingered, a sharp crack that seemed to fracture the silence of the sprawling estate. The polished marble floors gleamed under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers, but the warmth of the mansion felt like a cruel illusion, mocking the raw fury and grief swirling in the room.

Taehyung stood before her, unmoving, his head slightly tilted from the impact. A faint red mark bloomed across his cheek, but it was the shadow in his eyes—dark, wounded, and unyielding—that carried the real weight of her strike. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, the air between them crackled with unspoken accusations. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low, measured, and laced with a bitterness that cut deeper than any shout.

“You think this is easy for me?” he said, his words deliberate, each one a shard of glass. “You think I wanted any of this?”

Yn’s chest heaved, her hands trembling as she fought to hold her ground. “Don’t,” she hissed, her voice a blade of its own. “Don’t you dare act like you’re the victim here, Taehyung.

The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in as the unspoken history between them pulsed like a heartbeat. Yoongi stepped forward, his voice low and steady, cutting through the haze. “Enough. Both of you.” His gaze flicked to Taehyung, sharp and unyielding.

“Explain yourself. Now.”

Taehyung’s eyes darted to Yoongi, then back to Yn, a flicker of something—regret, perhaps—crossing his features. “I didn’t come here to fight,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “I came to make sure she was safe. That she wasn’t… lost in this place.”

“Safe?” Yn laughed, a bitter, hollow sound that echoed off the high ceilings. “You think I need you to keep me safe? After everything?” She took a step toward him, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed, stepping closer, her eyes blazing. “You’re more pathetic than you claim Jungkook is. You framed him, Taehyung.

Taehyung’s expression crumpled, but Y/N wasn’t done. “You’re more pathetic than you claim Jungkook is,” she continued, her voice shaking but unrelenting. “You framed him, changed his medication, pushed him to the edge until he lost his mind. I saw the footage from the office, Taehyung. You stole those files the day Jungkook was going to propose to me. You never loved me—you used me to hurt him, to break him!”

Her words dripped with possession—not of the mansion, but of Jungkook’s memory, of the love they’d built within these walls. She took a step closer, her eyes blazing with defiance, daring him to challenge her claim.

Taehyung’s face twisted, his voice rising to a shout that made Y/N flinch. “Yes, I did it! So what?” His eyes were wild now, his composure shattered. “I saw you with him, Y/N. The way he looked at you, like you were his entire world. He took everything from me! Because of him, I lost my mother! He didn’t save her!”

Y/N’s breath caught, her anger faltering for a moment as she processed his words. “He was a child, Taehyung,” she said, her voice quieter but no less fierce. “He was six years old. You were four. How can you blame him for that?”

Taehyung’s gaze flickered, a storm of emotions warring behind his stoic facade. He opened his mouth to retort, but ,

What the hell is going on here?”

Namjoon’s voice was calm but firm, cutting through the charged silence like a lifeline.

Their arrival was like a sudden gust of wind, stirring the tension into something tangible, suffocating.

Yoongi’s sharp eyes darted between Yn and Taehyung, his expression unreadable but heavy with understanding. Jin’s usual warmth was absent, replaced by a rare, quiet intensity as he took in the scene. Namjoon, ever the anchor, stepped forward, his broad frame casting a shadow that seemed to ground the chaos.

Yn didn’t break eye contact with Taehyung, her fury a living thing. “Ask him,” she said, her tone venomous. “

Taehyung’s eyes flashed with anger, his voice rising to a shout that made Y/N flinch. “Yes, I did it! So what?” His words were a raw, jagged confession, his hands clenched into fists. “I saw you with him, Y/N. The way he looked at you, like you were his entire world. He took everything from me—my mother, my life! He didn’t save her, and I lost her because of him!”

Y/N’s eyes widened, but Yoongi stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “He was six years old, Taehyung,” he said, his tone low but fierce. “A child. You were four. What the hell kind of blame are you putting on him? And your mother’s suicide? That wasn’t Jungkook’s fault, or his father’s.”

Before Yoongi could respond, again Taehyung stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “And what’s your excuse for his father, huh?” he said, his tone sharp, his eyes narrowing.

“Whatever Jungkook’s father did to your mother, that’s not Jungkook’s fault.

And she was his mother too , you fought that you , You’ve been carrying this grudge for years, Taehyung, and it’s twisted you into something ugly.” Yn shouted again .

Before Taehyung could respond, Mr. Kim entered the hall, his presence commanding but weary, his face etched with pain.

“Enough, Taehyung,” he said, his voice heavy. “Let’s go. This has gone far enough.”

“No,” Yoongi interjected, his eyes locking onto Mr. Kim. “He deserves the truth. You can’t keep him in the dark forever.”

Mr. Kim’s face paled, his cheeks trembling as he fought to hold himself together. Yoongi’s voice was steady, but it carried the weight of a revelation that would shatter everything.

“The woman you thought was your mother wasn’t your biological mother, Taehyung,” he said.

“Jungkook’s mother is alive” .

Jungkook’s mother is a kind lady. She begged your real mother not to abort you, and gave her money to carry you to term. But your mother took the money and disappeared. Jungkook’s father thought his wife was cheating, so he divorced her.

Then Mr. Kim married her, tried to take custody of Jungkook, but Jungkook’s father was too powerful. He tried to have her killed, Taehyung. Ask your father why he goes to America every year.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened, his breath hitching as he turned to Mr. Kim, his voice trembling with disbelief. “Dad? What the fuck is he talking about?”

Mr. Kim’s head lowered, his shoulders sagging

under the weight of years of secrets. His voice was barely audible, but it struck like a thunderclap.

“Your mother is alive,” he said, his words hanging in the air like a guillotine. “She’s in America.”

To be continued ..