The book lounged in my lap, a finger tucked between the pages, seeking to pick up where the story had paused. The rain pattered against the window that led onto the balcony and slid down, leaving a wet path behind.
The weekend at the mansion was just as quiet as any weekday, although the whole family was present. Dinner being already over, everyone had retreated to the confines of their own bedrooms, doing what their definition of winding down for the evening was.
I focused back on the book in my hand, carefully picking up the story from where I had last left it. The spine of the book had already been broken by my mother and so the pages didn't make it difficult for me to read them.
Throwing my leg over the other, I sank back into the couch cushions, the pitter-patter of rain against the windowpane and the running of the shower providing a synchronized moment of rest for me.
The story that unfolded on the pages was not interesting by any means, to say the least. But it was a whole bunch better than sitting here doing nothing. At least now I had a voice buzzing in my head, taking me to another realm.
Sometimes I wondered what it would be like if the world wasn't as we saw it, but what we imagined. If you believed Picasso's words, then everything you could imagine was real. Through the eyes of a realist, that imagination was nothing more than a set of mere words.
There weren't many limitations, but sometimes it was the situations we were thrown into that knocked us into a state of stagnation. I was not saying I had an exciting life before this, but there was something about this house that forced mundanity on me.
Four months Jungkook and I had now been married and no day passed differently than the one before. The expectations placed on me had been low until now, as all that was ever required of me was to look pretty at the dinner table. The only time in the day I saw the whole family together.
After the deal I had made with Jungkook, our interactions had been better of sorts. We didn't talk more, maybe even less, only our conversations were no longer filled with snarkiness and savagery.
That didn't mean he teased or annoyed me any less, though.
When he was at work, I had my peace. When he came back in the evening, he would brag about how the bed was so much softer than the couch - which, mind you, he had only slept on for one night. I had always rolled my eyes and he had laughed mischievously.
The water in the shower stopped and that was my only warning that my annoying husband would step out of the bathroom in a few seconds. But before he did, a knock echoed against the oak door of the bedroom.
The knock had been delivered with precise intervals and equal force, and I had no more than one guess as to who was standing on the other side. Setting the book down on the table in front of me, I made my way to my visitor.
And indeed, my assumption stood elegantly and with confidence before me after I swung open the door. Mrs. Jeon was dressed in the same clothes as at dinner, with a few strands of hair, however, escaping from her tight hairstyle.
I looked at her in surprise, her eyes meeting me after she unobtrusively scanned the room behind me. It was a rare event to find her here, perhaps the first time she had even bothered.
"Mrs. Jeon." I began. "Did you need something?"
I held the door firmly to my side as she felt intruding for some reason. "Is Jungkook here?" she asked instead.
"He's in the shower. I can go get him if you want because I think he's done," I suggested and she shook her head.
"No need. Can I come in?"
This bedroom was the only room in the entire house where I had my own space, and although I didn't like the idea of her being free to move around in it, I opened the door wider for her. Not really inviting, but not rejecting either.
She walked past me, inspecting every inch, though I could clearly see she was doing it very subtly. I followed her and stood in front of the couch, where her eyes fell on the blanket and the pillow on it. No exact proof that we slept in separate beds, but an invitation for speculation.
Thankfully, her gaze didn't linger on it, and instead, she wandered in front of my bookshelf. I grew impatient, unable to calculate the reason for her visit at this hour.
"It's been almost five months since the wedding." She remarked as she stroked her finger across a shelf to check for dust.
Four months and five days I wanted to correct her but didn't. It wasn't like I had been counting, but I had been.
Finding no response or reaction from me to that other than a nod because I didn't know what to say, she finally turned to me entirely. She brought her hands in front of her stomach and linked her fingers.
"How's it going?" she asked after what felt like an eternity.
My right shoulder shrugged upward. "It's going well so far," I replied. I started to wonder where the conversation was going. I couldn't really read from her expression if she was just being a mother-in-law and wanted to know how I was doing, or make sure her son was kept merry.
She hummed, devoting her eyes back to the shelf and the books on it. Her focus seemed to linger on one particular title, but she didn't give it another second of attention. Instead, she stared out the window.
"It has been brought to my attention that you..." Her body twisted before her eyes settled on me. "Are not menstruating. Apparently you have some sort of implant."
That made my eyebrows shoot up until they were almost touching my hairline. But I recovered from the sheer surprise of the question because I always expected the unexpected from her.
I just wondered who in this house had told Mrs. Jeon about it without me knowing. Because unless my memory was playing a game with me and I was suffering from amnesia, I knew for sure that I had not shared such private information with anyone.
And just from Mrs. Jeon's waiting and judgmental look, I could tell that it wasn't just a question thrown into the room. It wasn't something women shared among themselves to discuss experiences about contraceptives. It almost felt like a demand that I tell her why.
"Who told you that?" I asked, my voice calm and with no trace of any emotion. There was no point in denying it because she knew it as certain as the grass was green. Besides, I wouldn't lie just because she made me feel uncomfortable.
"It doesn't matter." she dismissed the question and stepped a little closer. Her eyes fell on the closed bathroom door. "Does Jungkook know?"
I persisted, elevating my chin a breath. "No, he doesn't."
Mrs. Jeon seemed to force herself not to let the gasp escape.
"Well, he must know he can't become a father as long as you have that thing implanted in your arm." Distaste took over her entire face.
I had the contraceptive implant placed in my arm two years ago and since then my periods had stopped. I didn't complain about it because it was convenient enough and besides, I had it implanted with my gynecologist's approval.
I did not understand what the issue was.
It was none of Jungkook's or anyone else's business what form of contraception I chose for my body. I understood the risks they all brought and felt it was very disrespectful for Mrs. Jeon to make such a comment. So ignorant of another person's privacy.
"I—" I said, but a scoff left my lips because I couldn't believe what my ears were hearing.
There were definitely a lot of different ways to broach such a sensitive subject than Mrs. Jeon had done. Maybe I didn't feel ready? Maybe I didn't want to have children? Maybe I couldn't have any? Maybe Jungkook was incapable of procreation?
It wasn't like I had ever actively tried to conceive to know. Such things should only be discussed when both sides felt ready. Which would probably never happen in our situation.
Jungkook and I had signed an imaginary contract that neither of us would have sex with anyone else. So I doubted either of us even wanted to sleep with the other until that one year was over.
"We haven't talked about anything like that yet, Mrs. Jeon. It's too soon," I finally said. The name put distance between her and me even if she didn't realize it.
I was unsure if she sensed that our marriage was only based on signed papers, though I was sure she knew about our prenuptial agreement. Still, I wasn't stupid to expose everything because Jungkook had said that this marriage was real for his family.
"It's about time." she sang, putting a hand to her chest. "I got pregnant with Yoongi just two months after our wedding."
Con-fucking-gratulations.
It wasn't my doing, obviously. And now I was expected to perform the same way? I hated it when society put the urge on a woman to become a birthing machine, to push out children left and right just because she had reached a certain age or relationship status.
I took a deep breath to cool the growing temper inside me. I had tried so far to find the middle ground with her and give her few reasons to hate me - though I didn't care - and today I would not slip.
"I think that's a topic that should be discussed between spouses," a good enough answer to show her she had no leverage.
She opened her mouth, clearly on the verge of scolding me for my determination when the door to the bathroom opened and Jungkook stepped out. A whiff of his aftershave followed him, a towel in his hand with which he proceeded to dry his hair.
"Mother?" he said, glancing between her and me. One eyebrow raised as he observed me crossing my arms in front of my chest. "Do you need anything?"
"No." she lifted her chin even more as she looked from me to her son. "I was just telling Reva how I think it's time you two started thinking about an heir."
Jungkook sighed under his breath. "Mother." he placed the towel on the back of the chair across from the couch.
It was comforting to know that Jungkook was on my side in this.
Or so I thought.
"You know your responsibilities, Jungkook." she urged.
"We'll do what's necessary," he confirmed, purposely avoiding my eyes. My hands curled into fists.
"Please do." Mrs. Jeon's nodded. "You two won't be young forever."
Meaning: Reva won't be fertile for a long time.
"I understand." Jungkook rushed to his mother, placing his hand on her lower back and starting to walk to the door. "If you'll excuse us. I have an important meeting tomorrow morning and I have to get up early."
"Fine." Mrs. Jeon muttered. "And what is with your hair? You should get it cut."
Jungkook paused for a brief moment, his face as hard as a rock. Jaw clenched, he finally said. "I didn't have the time."
I heard Mrs. Jeon still talking after Jungkook closed the door behind her.
I stomped over to him. "Why did you say that?"
"I'm too tired to have a discussion with her, okay?" he dismissed, ignoring me and pulling back the covers on the bed. "She wouldn't have let up any other way. Just ignore it."
I was now the one who sighed and closed my eyes. I felt drained of my energy and now that Jungkook had provided such an answer to his mother, I could only guess how often this topic would be brought up.
Standing beside him as Jungkook climbed into bed completely unbothered, he looked up at me. "You coming to sleep?"
Ignoring the smug smile, I hiked over to the couch to adjust my blanket and pillow.
I stared at the ceiling. Maybe I was overreacting and I began to think that I was just too pessimistic about everything. Or maybe it was Mrs. Jeon's manipulative attitude that gaslighted me into thinking it.
I always tried to look for the good in people, even if it was as small as a grain of sand, but with Mrs. Jeon, I couldn't help but feel like she was pure evil.
─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────
A week passed with Mrs. Jeon not bringing up this subject again. Perhaps I had really overreacted and it was best to ignore her wishes and expectations just as Jungkook had suggested.
Everyone seemed to do just that in this house anyway.
Jungkook was out and although I didn't know where he had gone, I knew he would make it in time for dinner. That was the only time Mr. Jeon ever butted in. He didn't talk much, but this rule of eating together seemed to be crucial for him.
I changed my clothes after taking a shower and was combing my hair when my aforementioned husband walked through the door. He was dressed casually, yet his hair still fell perfectly.
He stepped out of the walk-in closet, a new white shirt pulled on now. "Ready to go downstairs?"
I nodded and together we made our way to the dining room. Dinner was served as usual by the maids and the delicious smell of the various spices filled my nose. Most of the time they cooked traditionally and on seldom days there were dishes prepared from world cuisine.
Mr. Jeon had apparently caught the flu, although it seemed impossible with the still nice days, so he would not be at the dinner table today. I hadn't even realized how quickly summer had passed and I wished I had had the opportunity to travel.
Sitting across from me, Yoongi flashed me a smile when our eyes met and I smiled back. After the night I had run into him on the rooftop, a friendly bond began to grow between us.
I understood him in his struggles even if he didn't share much about himself. Most of the time we ended up with him lighting a cigarette and talking to me until he finished smoking it. I liked it because it was easy to talk to him.
The maid - Naeun, I had been told when I asked her a few weeks ago - filled my plate and I thanked her before we all began to eat. The table was quiet, the clicking of dishes against porcelain letting a person know that people lived in this house.
I felt eyes on me, but I deliberately chose not to locate the source. And then they were gone anyway.
"You still haven't gotten your hair cut." I finally heard her comment, an edge to the tone.
In the corner of my eye, I could barely make out Jungkook's hand tightening around the knife as he cut into his meat. A painful minute passed in silence until he spoke.
"I told you I didn't have the time." Jungkook's voice was surprisingly calm and steady in contrast to the tension in his body.
"Yeah, but it's gotten too long. It doesn't look good." she countered with equal calmness.
I placed my knife and fork on the table, linking my hands.
"Maybe he likes it the way it is right now."
Her eyes narrowed at me, the chewing now slowing as if she was trying to decipher if I had really just said that.
I just didn't like people who bent others to their liking. I didn't appreciate her attitude of imposing authority even if she was his mother.
It wasn't just to defend Jungkook, but I had seen him take a few extra minutes in the morning to get the strands of his hair right while humming to himself. Also, it wasn't like his hair was excessively long. Just a few inches added than he normally wore it.
"He usually keeps it shorter, so no, he doesn't," she said. Her eyes could shoot lasers and they would hit me because she was staring straight into my soul.
"How do you know?" I wondered. I wasn't trying to challenge her, just get her to think about her words before she uttered them. "Maybe he's trying out something new. Perhaps—"
"That's enough, Reva." I closed my mouth upon Jungkook's interruption. His gaze zeroed in on his plate, but his jaw was just as tight as it had been for the last few minutes.
Swiping my tongue against my inner cheek, I tilted my head and continued to eat. Everyone at the table except Mrs. Jeon was tense. If I showed my frustration now, I knew she would consider it a victory on her part. So I ate, my back aching from the way I was keeping it straight.
I had only been trying to help, but if Jungkook considered this an intrusion - fine. I wouldn't open my mouth again.
After dinner, I closed the door behind me because Jungkook entered the bedroom before me. He was already unbuttoning his shirt on his way to the closet, but I didn't see him practically rip it off his body.
The tension had not diminished and was now still palpable in every corner. Jungkook reappeared and for only a few seconds he shot me a disapproving look before aggressively placing his wristwatch in its case.
"What's wrong with you?" I scolded as the case fell to the floor and Jungkook picked it up before tossing it into the drawer.
"Nothing," he muttered, but his tone suggested the opposite. Then he sighed and rammed his hands on the dresser. "Why did you have to interfere?"
I'd already known why he sported the sour face, so it was no surprise that he brought it up now. "Because she wanted things to go her way without being considerate."
He turned to me, taking a few steps in my direction. "I could have told her."
"Yeah, but you didn't. Just like you didn't a few days ago." I remarked. I smelled the argument approaching like wolves sniffing out their prey. "Why not back what you clearly decided for yourself?"
It was clear as day that Jungkook had no intention of cutting his hair. He had had plenty of time to do so the past few days. But this argument was no longer about his hair. It went far beyond that.
"I am capable of fighting my own battles, Reva. I don't need you to advocate for me." His eyebrows were pulled together as he looked down at me. I hadn't even realized how close he'd gotten.
"I've lived in this house long enough to see that no one will say anything while she dictates your life," I countered. "Everyone's life."
It was right. Maybe my method wasn't proper, but I had seen it and experienced it. Not only Jungkook suffered from the mistreatment but also Yoongi and Dalrae. Even the maids.
"What do you know? You've been here four months and you think you know me?" Anger formed in both of us. If one didn't back down on time, ugly words would be spewed. "She's my mother, so obviously she's going to have something to say."
"Yes, she is your mother. And mothers don't force their children what to do or like." I growled.
He growled back. "That's a very confident thing for you to say. You're not really in a position to judge about that."
I physically recoiled. Not because Jungkook was standing so close to me, but because his words hit like a blow. My insides felt like a cavity, every fiber swallowed up by darkness.
Despite that his words carried no clarity and were covered with innuendo, I knew exactly what they meant. I knew he was attacking me with what would do me the most harm, even though I had never spoken to anyone about it.
Maybe I was an open book after all, even though I always pictured myself as a sealed high-security vault. Jungkook extinguished the raging fire inside me by tossing sand at me. And maybe he nailed my eyes in the process because they started to sting.
All I wanted was for Jungkook to be brave enough to speak his mind against his mother, but now he was using it to open wounds that I didn't know still existed.
But Jungkook continued anyway. "Stop pushing the past you were not a part of into the present and forcing your notions of a dead person onto others and expecting them to act that way."
At that moment, all I wanted to do was slap him. To give free rein to my rage and hurt. Maybe he deserved it, too.
But I swallowed the lump in my throat, keeping my head high.
"You're welcome," I said before leaving the bedroom.
___________________
A/N: Finally an update oof I missed you guys so much. Thank you for still being excited about this book, it means a lot to me 🥹
I just realized that whenever I am in my reading era I can't write. And when I'm writing my own story I can't read another book lol
What are you thoughts on the first real fight between Jungkook and Reva? Who was right, who was wrong? Thoughts on Mrs. Jeon expecting a granchild? Let me know hehe