The sleek, modern office in the heart of New York City buzzed with the quiet hum of ambition, its glass walls reflecting the vibrant pulse of the city beyond. Taehyung sat in his father’s expansive corner office, now partially his own, the polished mahogany desk littered with contracts and reports that marked his meteoric rise. At just twenty-six, he’d shattered records, becoming one of America’s most prominent businessmen in a mere four months, his name splashed across headlines as a prodigy of strategy and resolve. The weight of his success was palpable, but so was the shadow of his past, a quiet ache that lingered in the corners of his mind.

Months ago, Taehyung and his father, Mr. Kim, had relocated to America, seeking a fresh start after the revelations that had torn through their lives in Seoul. Mr. Kim had sat Taehyung down one evening, his voice heavy with guilt, and revealed the full truth about Taehyung’s origins, Jungkook’s mother, and the tangled web of their shared history. He’d also introduced Taehyung to Yeojun, his younger half-brother, a bright-eyed teenager with dreams bigger than the skyline. Yeojun had been thrilled to learn he wasn’t an only child, his enthusiasm infectious as he latched onto Taehyung, eager to forge a bond. When Yeojun confessed his dream of becoming a K-pop idol, Taehyung had seen the spark in his eyes and fought for him, convincing their initially reluctant father to let Yeojun chase his passion in Seoul. Now, Yeojun was training under a top agency, his messages to Taehyung filled with excitement and gratitude, calling him “hyung” with a warmth that made Taehyung’s heart swell.

Taehyung leaned back in his leather chair, his tailored suit crisp against his frame, as he prepared for an interview with a major network. The studio was a sleek setup of lights and cameras, the host a charismatic woman with a knack for disarming her guests. The interview had been smooth, covering his meteoric rise, his vision for the company, and his plans to expand into new markets. But as the conversation neared its end, the host leaned forward, her smile teasing but professional. “Taehyung, you’re young, successful, and let’s be honest, quite the catch. Everyone’s dying to know—any special someone in your life?”

The question hit like a quiet thunderclap, and Taehyung’s mind flashed to Y/N. Her face, fierce and radiant, filled his thoughts—the way her eyes had blazed with anger in Jungkook’s mansion, the sting of her slap still a vivid memory. He’d been wrong about so much. Yes, he’d initially wanted to use her to hurt Jungkook, driven by a misguided vendetta rooted in a childhood he’d misunderstood. But Y/N had been wrong about one thing: he had loved her. Deeply, painfully, in a way that had crept up on him until it was too late to act on it. He’d seen the love she shared with Jungkook, pure and unshakable, and he’d known he could never compete. More than that, he didn’t want to. He was happy for them, truly, even if the guilt of his actions gnawed at him.

Taehyung’s lips curved into a practiced smile, his voice steady but soft. “I haven’t fallen in love yet,” he said, the lie smooth but heavy on his tongue. “But I’m sure it’ll happen when the time is right.”

The host nodded, satisfied, and moved on to lighter questions. Soon, the cameras cut, and the interview wrapped with handshakes and thanks. Taehyung stepped out into the cool evening air, the city’s pulse thrumming around him as he slid into the backseat of his chauffeured car. The drive to his mansion was quiet, the city lights blurring past as his thoughts drifted back to Y/N and Jungkook. He’d asked Namjoon to keep an eye on them, to ensure their safety, and Namjoon had agreed without hesitation, understanding the weight of Taehyung’s guilt. Taehyung hadn’t found the courage to face them himself, not after everything he’d done—manipulating Jungkook’s medication, framing him, letting his anger twist him into someone he barely recognized. Leaving Seoul had been his penance, a way to give them space to heal.

When he’d arrived in America, Mr. Kim had introduced him to Sara—Jungkook’s mother, though she didn’t know it. To her, Taehyung was the son of a friend, orphaned and in need of family. Sara had welcomed him with open arms, her kindness a balm to his fractured heart. They’d built a bond, sharing quiet evenings and laughter over meals, but Taehyung carried a quiet fear. What would happen when Jungkook came to meet her? Would Sara’s fragile peace shatter? Would Jungkook’s presence stir memories she couldn’t reclaim? Taehyung wanted them to find each other, to heal, but the uncertainty gnawed at him. He’d made a silent vow to help make it happen, to bridge the gap when the time came.

The car pulled up to the sprawling Kim mansion, its modern facade glowing softly under strategically placed lights. Taehyung stepped out, his polished shoes clicking on the stone path as he entered the grand foyer. The air was warm, scented with the faint aroma of jasmine from a diffuser, and there, in the living room, sat Sara, her eyes glued to her phone, a soft smile on her lips as she scrolled through something. Her dark hair was tucked behind her ears, and she looked up as Taehyung’s voice broke the quiet.

“Mom, I’m home,” he called, his voice warm, the word “mom” feeling both foreign and comforting on his tongue.

Sara’s face lit up, her eyes crinkling as she stood, her petite frame moving with a grace that reminded him achingly of Jungkook. “Taehyung!” she exclaimed, crossing the room to envelop him in a hug. Her embrace was warm, maternal, and Taehyung sank into it, his heart easing for a moment. “You’re late,” she teased, pulling back to look at him, her hands resting on his shoulders. “I was starting to worry.”

Taehyung chuckled, his smile genuine as he met her gaze. “Mom, it’s barely past nine. You didn’t sleep because you were waiting for me, didn’t you?” he asked, his tone playful but laced with concern.

Sara waved a hand dismissively, her smile mischievous. “Oh, hush. I’m fine. Just wanted to make sure my son got home safe.” She swatted his arm lightly, her eyes sparkling with affection.

Taehyung’s heart warmed, the guilt he carried softening in her presence. “Come on, Mom, let’s have dinner,” he said, nodding toward the dining room. “I’m starving.”

As if on cue, the maids appeared, setting the table with steaming dishes—roasted chicken, creamy mashed potatoes, and a fresh salad, the scents filling the air with comfort. Mr. Kim joined them, his face tired but warm as he took his seat, and the three of them ate together, their conversation light and filled with laughter. Sara teased Taehyung about his interview, Mr. Kim shared a story about a quirky client, and for a moment, they were just a family, unburdened by the past.

After dinner, they bid each other goodnight, and Taehyung climbed the grand staircase to his room, the weight of the day settling over him. The room was sleek and modern, with dark wood furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a view of the city’s twinkling lights. He sank onto the edge of his bed, pulling out his phone to check the latest updates from Namjoon’s men. The photos were recent—Jungkook and Y/N at the hospital garden, laughing, their hands intertwined, their love palpable even in grainy images. Another showed them driving off with Jin and Yoongi, Jungkook’s smile free and unguarded, Y/N’s eyes shining with joy. The doctor’s reports were equally encouraging: Jungkook was thriving, his therapy and medication working wonders, his progress a testament to his strength and Y/N’s unwavering support.

Taehyung’s chest tightened, a mix of guilt and relief washing over him. He’d been wrong, so wrong, but seeing them happy, seeing Jungkook become the man he was meant to be, eased the ache. Y/N had been right—he’d never had a chance to win her heart, not truly, but he had loved her, and that love had been real, even if it was flawed. He was content to let them live their lives, to step back and let them shine.

Taking a deep breath, he dialed Namjoon’s number, the call connecting after two rings. “Taehyung,” Namjoon’s voice came through, warm but curious. “How’s it going over there?”

Taehyung leaned back, his eyes drifting to the city lights. “Good,” he said, his voice steady. “The business is thriving, Yeojun’s killing it in Seoul, and… Mom’s doing well. How about you? How’s everything with Jungkook and Y/N?”

Namjoon chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring. “They’re good, Tae. Better than good. Jungkook’s back at the office part-time, and Y/N’s right there with him. They’re building something solid. You’d be proud.”

Taehyung’s lips curved into a bittersweet smile. “I am,” he said softly. He paused, then added, his voice firm but heavy, “Namjoon, I want you to pull the guards. No more watching them. They don’t need it anymore.”

There was a beat of silence, then Namjoon’s voice, laced with surprise. “Are you sure, Taehyung?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung replied, his tone resolute. “They’re safe. They’re happy. It’s time to let them live without my shadow hanging over them.”

Namjoon hesitated, then sighed. “Alright. I respect that. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks, Namjoon,” Taehyung said, his voice softening. “For everything.”

The call ended, and Taehyung set his phone down, his eyes drifting to the photos one last time. Jungkook and Y/N, laughing, loving, free. “All the best for your future,” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. “I hope you stay happy like this, always.”

With a deep breath, he deleted the photos and videos, each tap a small release, a letting go of the past. He placed his phone on the nightstand, the screen going dark, and lay back on the bed, the soft sheets cool against his skin. Closing his eyes, he felt a weight lift, a new chapter beginning—not just for Jungkook and Y/N, but for him too. As he drifted into sleep, the city’s hum a distant lullaby, he carried a quiet hope that he, too, could find his own peace, his own path, free from t

he shadows of his mistakes.

To be continued ..