In a quiet village wrapped in morning glories and sunlight lives Jay, a devoted father whose world begins and ends with his only son, Jungkook. To the villagers, Jungkook is a mystery - hidden away, shielded by his father's love, too delicate and be...
Days slipped into weeks, as father and son continued to live in the small world they had built for themselves. A world of soft mornings, shared meals, quiet studies, and evenings spent beneath the stars. Within the walls of their home, there was only warmth, laughter, and the tender rhythm of love that needed nothing else.
Jay and Jungkook lived as though the rest of the world did not exist—as though the cruelty of society, the whispers of the village, and the darkness of fate could never reach them. They were content in their own little bubble, safe in the illusion that happiness could last forever.
But life has its own way of reminding that no bubble remains untouched.
Just as,
This morning carried a quiet tension, different from their usual routine. Today was Jungkook’s 11th class first English half-yearly exam, and Jay had been fussing since dawn, making sure every little detail was in place. The admit card was tucked neatly into a transparent folder, the school ID clipped with care, the pencil pouch checked twice—two blue pens, one black, sharpened pencils, eraser, ruler, even a sharpener. Nothing could be left behind.
Jay’s rough hands moved carefully over the small satchel, arranging each item. His fairy might be old enough to sit for an exam, but in Jay’s eyes he was still just a little child.
“Papa!”
The hurried patter of feet broke his thoughts. Jungkook came running into the courtyard, his uniform crisp yet slightly oversized on his small frame. His long, silky hair swayed with every step, dark waves tumbling down to his waist. Panting lightly, he looked up at his father with wide, hopeful eyes.
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“Papa, please… tie my hair.”
Jay’s sternness melted in an instant. “Acha, baba, come here,” he said softly, pulling out the wooden stool and patting it. Jungkook obediently sat, his little hands folded in his lap, cheeks flushed pink from the rush.
With surprising gentleness, Jay parted the silky strands down the middle. He smoothed the fine baby hair curling near Jungkook’s temples and began weaving the first braid. Each movement was deliberate, slow, steady—almost reverent. It wasn’t just a braid. It was protection, love,all twisted together strand by strand.
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