In this story Sadness never leave jungkook life by hook or crock it comeback .
When he started thinking everything is gonna better everything got ruined again
As Jungkook drifted into a peaceful slumber, a sudden splash of cold water jolted him awake. His eyes snapped open to see his bed drenched and his mother standing over him, holding an empty bucket.
"Why are you still sleeping?!" she shouted, her voice piercing the early morning calm. "Go and do those dishes, you lazy punk!"
Jungkook blinked, trying to shake off the grogginess. "But mom, it's still early," he protested, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
His mother's expression hardened. "I don't care! You need to learn responsibility. Now get up and do as you're told with a resigned sigh, Jungkook pushed himself out of bed and trudged to the kitchen, his feet dragging with every step. He knew there was no use arguing with his mother when she was in this mood. As he started on the dishes, he couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration. Another day, another early morning wake-up call.
As Jungkook diligently scrubbed the dishes, his mother stormed into the kitchen, a pile of dirty plates in her arms. Without a word, she began to forcefully toss them into the sink, some clattering against each other and one hitting Jungkook's hand. He winced in pain but remained silent, his jaw clenched tight.
"Mom, please," he started, but his mother cut him off with a sharp glare.
"Don't you dare speak back to me," she snapped, her voice cutting like a knife. "You're the one who should be doing these dishes, not me."
Jungkook bit his lip, holding back the urge to respond. He knew from experience that arguing with his mother would only make things worse. So, he gritted his teeth and continued washing the dishes, the sting in his hand a painful reminder of his mother's anger. He knew that for now, it was best to keep quiet and finish the task at hand.
As he worked, he couldn't help but think about how different things were when his father was still around. His father had been kind and understanding, always willing to listen and help. But ever since he had passed away, Jungkook's mother had become increasingly bitter and resentful, taking out her frustrations on him.
Jungkook sighed, pushing aside his thoughts as he focused on the task at hand. He knew that no matter how unfair things seemed, he had to stay strong and endure. Someday, he hoped, things would get better. Until then, he would do his best to navigate the stormy waters of his mother's anger, one dish at a time.
As Jungkook was washing the dishes, his mother passed by and slipped on the soapy water he had spilled. She caught herself before falling completely, but the glare she shot at Jungkook was enough to make him shrink back.
"Can't you do anything right?" she scolded, her voice sharp with anger. "You know better than to leave water on the floor!"
Before Jungkook could even respond, his mother's hand came down hard on his cheek, the sound echoing through the kitchen. Another slap followed, and then another, each one landing with stinging force against Jungkook's skin. His cheeks began to burn, both from the physical pain and the humiliation of being struck by his own mother.
"Stop, please," Jungkook pleaded, but his mother's onslaught continued, her hands seeming to paint a painful picture against his cheeks.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his mother stopped. Jungkook stood there, his cheeks red and throbbing, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He knew better than to cry, though. That would only make his mother angrier.
With a final, disdainful look, his mother turned and left the kitchen, leaving Jungkook alone with his pain and his thoughts. He finished washing the dishes in silence, the memory of her handprint on his cheeks a painful reminder of his mother's anger.
As he dried his hands and put away the dishes, Jungkook couldn't help but feel a sense of bitterness. Why did his mother always take her anger out on him? He knew he had to be strong, though. He couldn't let her break him, no matter how hard she tried.
With a deep breath, Jungkook straightened his shoulders and forced a smile onto his face. He would get through this, just like he always did. And someday, he vowed, he would escape this cycle of abuse and make a better life for himself. Until then, he would endure, one painful day at a time.
As Jungkook was getting ready to leave for school, his father suddenly appeared and snatched his bag, throwing it aside with a look of contempt. "If our servant has left, who will serve those guests who are coming over?" his father snapped, his voice filled with disdain. He pushed Jungkook towards the changing room, a rough shove that made Jungkook stumble.
"Go and change into something more presentable," his father commanded, his tone laced with anger. "You can't go to school looking like a beggar."
Jungkook, used to his father's harsh words and actions, didn't protest. Silently, he made his way to the changing room and exchanged his school uniform for a more formal outfit. As he looked at himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of shame.
"You deserve this, Jungkook," he muttered to his reflection, his voice filled with self-loathing. He knew that in his father's eyes, he was nothing more than a disappointment, always falling short of expectations. As he headed out the door, his shoulders slumped with the weight of his father's disapproval, Jungkook braced himself for another day of feeling inadequate and unloved.
Jungkook stepped out of the changing room, his father's words ringing in his ears. "Go and change into something eye-catching," his father commanded, his tone harsh. "Who knows, they might buy our stuff away from us!"
His mother, Mrs. Jeon, stood nearby, a look of disdain on her face. "And you, make sure he looks beautiful," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "But make sure he looks less beautiful than our daughter. Mr. Kim is here for her, not for this punk."
Jungkook felt a wave of humiliation wash over him. His parents' words cut deep, reminding him once again of his place in their eyes. He knew he was nothing more than a pawn in their game of social status, a tool to be used to impress their guests.
As he changed into the outfit his parents had chosen for him, Jungkook couldn't help but wonder if things would ever change. Would he always be treated as inferior, as someone unworthy of love and respect? He pushed aside those thoughts, though. He had to focus on getting through the day, on surviving in a world where he was constantly belittled and degraded.
When he emerged from the changing room, his parents inspected him with critical eyes.
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His father nodded in approval, a cold smile on his face. "Not bad," he said, though there was no warmth in his tone. "Now go and greet our guests. And remember, don't embarrass us."
Jungkook nodded silently, his heart heavy with the weight of his parents' expectations. As he made his way to where the guests were gathered, he plastered a fake smile on his face, hiding the turmoil he felt inside. He knew that no matter what he did, he would never be good enough for his parents. But he also knew that he had to keep trying, if only to survive another day in a world that seemed determined to crush him.
