Min Yoongi x Y/N | Second Part of Summer Under False Vows
Three years have passed since a summer built on lies brought two hearts dangerously close.
The vows they made were never meant to last.
The feelings they found were never meant to be real.
Bu...
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The Weight of Snow
The rain in Seoul had a habit of keeping secrets, but the snow had a way of laying everything bare. Three years. One thousand and ninety-five days of structured, uninterrupted silence.
For the world outside the high-rise glass of Min Holdings, Chairman Min Yoongi remained an untouchable force—sharper, colder, and more unyielding than ever before. He was a man who moved through boardrooms like a winter frost, leaving no room for weakness, no space for compromise, and certainly no allowance for memory.
He had rebuilt the walls around his life higher than they had ever been. He had forbidden her name from echoing down the halls of the estate. He had locked away every trace of a summer that had shattered his controlled existence, convincing himself that distance was the same as moving on.
He told himself he was fine. He told himself the silence was peace.
Until the black umbrellas filled the quiet grounds of the memorial hall.
Yoongi stood at the head of the altar in a tailored black suit, his face an unreadable mask of dark bronze and sharp angles. Beside him, dressed in a matching mini suit, stood seven-year-old Yul.
The small, weeping toddler who had once begged at the front gates was gone, replaced by a quiet, observant child who carried his father's stoic posture like a shield.
Then, the heavy oak doors at the back of the hall swung open.
The air in the room dropped into a sub-zero freeze. Yoongi didn't need to look up to feel the shift. His pulse, dormant and steady for three long years, slammed violently against his ribs.
Y/N stepped into the hall.
She wore a simple, tailored black winter coat, her dark hair falling softly around her face, carrying a single white lily in her hands. She didn't look at the cameras, the corporate titans, or the whispers rippling through the crowd. She had come for one reason only—to say goodbye to the matriarch who had loved her like her own.
As she stepped up to the altar, her eyes met Yoongi's across the space of three lost years.
No words were spoken. The three-year lie of indifference withered instantly beneath the suffocating heat of a love that had never truly died.
Beside Yoongi, Yul's small hand tightened around his father's sleeve. The boy looked from the white lily to the woman standing before them, his quiet composure cracking for the first time in years.
The summer was long gone. The false vows had turned to dust. But as the winter wind howled outside the grand doors, one truth remained frozen in the air between them:
Some stories don't end when the sun sets—they just wait for the snow to fall.
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WINTER BLOOMS OF BROKEN VOWS By: MM_77889900 __.._____..__
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