(Jungkook's POV)
Song Companion: Let You Go - Faime
—First Life. St. Vincent's Hospital, year 2026—
"I'm so sorry."
Her voice broke out just as her face fell. There were no tears as she looked away, but I could still see the pain, the anger, every broken piece of her soul were all written in her eyes that I knew how much effort she was making just not to cry. She looked so small and fragile under the hospital gown, surrounded by tubes and all the hospital tools to support her healing. And with her shaking hands covering the remaining small bump on her stomach that would soon disappear, she looked completely defeated and lost, all the brightness in her eyes that had been filled with hope for the past three months had been replaced with complete agony.
I hated seeing her this way. I hated witnessing her breaking apart right before my eyes. And I hated feeling powerless because I could not take any of her pain away or make things better for her.
So I did the only thing I knew I could do.
Reaching out to her, I wrapped my arms around her and held her close. I buried my face on her hair while I let her bury her own on my chest. It was an effort I had to make, not only to give any semblance of comfort for my broken wife, but also to stop myself from looking at the white walls around us that had become too familiar and too suffocating to be in.
Caressing her hair and her back gently, I murmured softly to her, "Everything is going to be alright, sweetheart." And I could feel her first sob as she finally broke down to tears in my arms.
"Sshh—we're going to be alright. It's okay," I kept telling her, although a part of me felt like I was trying to console myself more than I did her. Quickly noticing that I was completely doing an unsuccessful job at it when doubt sneakily crept in.
Are we really going to be okay, though? I started questioning myself even as I held her tight and kept whispering words to console her, to let her release all her pain to me. How many times have I said those exact same words?
Do I even believe every word of it still?
While I was questioning my own feelings and giving in to doubts, completely unsure of what I was supposed to do to actually make it so everything would be alright, she was holding on to me so tight with her hands clutching desperately on my back as if I was the last piece of thread holding her together. All while completely careless of the needles that were still attached to her arms. Perhaps the pain on her skin was nothing compared to what she felt, I figured. So I just stayed still in her arms and held her tighter.
"It's okay, baby," I kept whispering to her as she was sobbing and shaking in my hold. "It will be okay."
I had no idea if any of those words had actually worked at all in consoling her. All I knew was that they failed in consoling me.
As minutes passed by, I felt her slowly calming down. Relief swarmed all over me as I felt her slowly loosening her hold and started falling asleep. Not for knowing that she would finally be okay, but because I could finally stop pretending to be strong for her. Although none of it seemed to matter in the end as I laid her gently back onto the hospital bed. All that mattered was that the only apprehension I could find was knowing that the more she cried, the more resolved she became, the more I became numb.
I left my wife at the hospital after she had fallen asleep.
The doctors wanted her to stay for the night for further observation. Not that I had no clue of what was to come next—doctor's observations, physical recovery, therapy, complete bedrest until her mind and body would heal from the pregnancy loss, and many sleepless nights with tears and consoling until life returned to how it used to be before the failed pregnancy, then weeks came months until we started planning again.
It had always been the same. And so far, nothing yet had changed.
Once I had made sure that she would be in good care of the hospital, I decided to leave for the office. Although I had to face a little obstacle before I could even step out of the room.
Right as I was making my way out the door, my parents had arrived. My mother rushed quickly to be on her side, forever caring for her beloved daughter-in-law while my father pulled me aside. The disapproval on his face when I told him that I had to leave her was not lost.
"If only you had chosen to work with me and your brother, then you wouldn't have to leave. Hell, perhaps none of this would have happened in the first place. Had you been leading the company with me, you would have had more liberty in arranging your working hours and work with your own rules instead of having to live under somebody else's bidding," my father sneered at me without even bothering to lower his voice down. It was good enough that we were still inside the room instead of out in the hallway where other people could hear his words or see me getting scrutinised so openly. The scoffing that came at the mention of the people I was working for made me flinch that I started to wish the ground could swallow me whole, and he was far from done.
"You wouldn't be leaving her alone when she needs you the most. Better yet, I would've given you and your wife all the time you need to recuperate, take a vacation or another honeymoon if you so wish for it, and you could've spent more time focusing on building your family instead of sacrificing everything and wasting your time for a meaningless career under that insufferable piece of ass you are working for."
It had been no secret at all that my father had no love for my employers. Not only due to the fact that I had chosen to be against his side, refusing to work alongside my family and fulfilling my father's dream of being able to run his company with his two sons, but the people I worked for had also been a competitor. He had been treating me like a failure since, an utter disappointment for not following his lead. Or, in his own true words, a coward.
But he would never understand.
No matter what I did, I could never be good enough in his eyes. Not when he would constantly compare me with my older brother. My brother, who was a better student all through his life, a better businessman, a better family man, the better son. He had even taken on the role of my wife's brother so perfectly when her own older sibling had chosen to disown her the day she chose to be with me instead of with her family.
"Look, Dad. It's not that I don't want to be here, alright?" I tried talking to my father, cutting him off mid-speech before he continued to rant more nonsense that I had heard too many times before. "I only have one online conference, just this one. This is really important for me and my future with _____, I can't cancel it last minute. It's not like we had planned to be in this hospital or to have her collapse this morning when I made the schedule."
My father's face hardened and it was clear that he still had a lot more to add. But I steered away from him, avoiding his glare and his impending rage, taking one last look at my mother holding my sleeping wife's hand before I finally stepped out of the room.
"How is everything?" Minhyuk's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I was still lost in reminiscing everything that had happened earlier today that I had not noticed him entering my office. I have been drowning myself in silence since I got here. Everyone seemed to steer clear from my path when they all found out what had happened. Eyes filled with pity followed me as I walked past, until I shut the door to my office to shelter me from their judgemental looks.
"You know, you didn't have to be here today. You should be with your wife. It's not like there's anything important for you to do here anyway, with the conference call and the board meeting all being cancelled until next Monday."
My jaw twitched and I looked away to hide the shame and guilt in my face that I knew without a doubt was there. Of course, I knew that the entire schedules I had for today had been cancelled when I talked about them to my father before I left. But he didn't have to know that.
"My family is there with her," I told him as I kept my eyes down on my desk, right when the thought of my brother came to mind. There was no doubt that he was possibly there with my parents too already, tending his 'little sister' in my place. "I just—thought I should put my attention elsewhere so I won't stress too much. Perhaps finish some work while I'm at it so I could have my whole weekend nursing her with no interruption."
Lies. More lies. Although a part of it was true. I needed a distraction.
"Right," Minhyuk hummed, and for a second there I thought I saw confusion mixed with disbelief in his eyes when I looked at him. "Well, if you need anything, I'm here to talk, alright? Don't keep it bottled up inside, you have to be strong for her. I'll come by to visit you guys once she's returned home."
I only nodded, pressing down the irritation that was building up due to his words. "Yeah, thanks, man," I said to him and watched as he walked out the door, closing it behind him to shut me off from the world outside again.
Once I was left alone and the silence returned, I closed my laptop and stood from my chair. Walking off towards the corner of my small private office, I reached for the bottles of liquor that I had stored in my drawers, pouring myself some scotch. With a glass in my hand, I looked out the window, once again letting my sorrow took over.
Minhyuk was right in a way when he said about me bottling things up inside. There were many reasons why I could not stay with her at the hospital. Why I had to get away.
It was too overwhelming for me to stay there. To pretend to be strong for her when I knew I could never. And I had to go before I did or say something I would forever regret. Because where there was sadness in her, for me it was anger.
Anger of the life we had. Anger for having our hopes crushed. Angry at myself. Perhaps I should be angry at her for not being able to conceive or to carry a baby inside her for more than three months. But I could never blame her. Not when each time the rage came through me for all the pain we went through, I was quick to feel guilt. Shame. And I started blaming myself.
Because each time we ended where we were, with her being sent to the hospital to have our baby once again taken away, I would always be reminded of that day.
The day everything fell apart.
The day I ruined her, ruined us, and when what should have been a part of our future was taken away because of my own doing. My own stupidity.
Guilt because of what I did.
Shame because of what I felt.
This was something that I had kept to myself for years and swore that it would be forever buried in my memory. Because if she ever found out, she would never have forgiven me. She would hate me forever for the truth. That was why I had to go. Because I could not let her know. I could not let her see that part of me, knowing that she would never look at me the same again if only I had told her the truth about what I felt the day we lost our first unborn child.
I could never let her know. While at the same time, I could not even know how even if I wanted to.
How could I tell her when all the despair I felt back then was only there because I saw her being hurt and had to endure so much pain? How could I let her know that whenever she cried over our unborn child, there was no sadness on my part or pain of losing the baby?
She could never know that instead of regret and pain, all I felt for the loss then was relief.
What kind of man was I then? And what kind of man was I now, when I kept trying to excuse myself for what I felt even after years had passed? I was relieved to have lost our first child because I had thought we could make a brand new start with it being gone. That we could erase that painful page of our lives and move on. I never wanted that child to exist when neither of us was ready, but I never wanted to lose her, no matter what.
What kind of man did that make me to put her in so much turmoil just because I refused to let her go?
This was the reason why I blamed myself now each time we lost another pregnancy. This had to be my punishment. A punishment that I deserved for loving her with so much greed. For denying our unborn child's birthright and for causing the loss in the first place.
Every guilt and shame I felt had been haunting me for years. They even came to me in my sleep, filling my nights with nightmares of what I had done and all the things that might happen with ghosts of the past lurking over my shoulder. They came to me in blurred memories, sometimes as vivid as if I was watching past events all over again. But sometimes they were blurry images of wreckages and disasters that seemed to represent our lives.
I had no idea how to stop them. I had no idea how to deal with this guilt inside me. And I know there was no way I could stop feeling this way, this powerless, as long as the guilt stayed strong with me.
How could I fight off her nightmares when I could not handle my own?
A knock on the door broke my thoughts. It was soon opened even before I had a chance to respond, revealing my new secretary from the other side of the door. I should probably address this with her soon, the terrible little habit of hers of barging into my office before I had ever given her permission to.
Song Lena, the new secretary that my boss had recently appointed for me. I had no need for a personal secretary at first, but after being promoted to having my own personal quarter, he insisted that I would need the help. I would have welcomed the good intention if only she didn't make me feel uncomfortable every time she was around.
There was something about her that made me uneasy when she was in the same room as I was. Perhaps it was the way she looked at me, with her eyes that were always wide and round as she followed all my movements, stalking me with her gaze whenever I was close by then looked at me with something that semblance of hope when I returned her attention. Or perhaps the way she would always become flustered when I talked to her, and how her skin would blush when she talked to me. Maybe it was the way she dressed, with her hair always put up in a bun and her blouse that seemed too tight on her or the way her buttons would hang too low. Or probably the skirt that she wore, one that screamed a classic librarian look yet snugged her curves just enough to make other males look over when she passed.
My close coworkers could not understand when I talked about this with them. Although I could not exactly explain to them the reason for my discomfort to her presence. They could never understand that when they saw a meek, small woman who was capable to do her work for me, all I saw was trouble.
Looking at her silently slipping through the door, I could sense that trouble coming closer. And it was the last thing I needed at a time like this. I said nothing to her until she looked up, looking like a deer in the headlights when she met my gaze.
"Is everything alright, Sir?" she suddenly asked me out of nowhere.
Why do people keep asking me these things?
I had grown tired of it. Tired of people trying to meddle with my life, trying to look into my mind. Tired of people looking at me and wondering what was wrong with me. Because nothing was wrong and yet everything was completely wrong at the same time. And no matter what I said, I could never truly feel that everything was going to be alright.
And why her, of all people?
"You haven't left the room all day, Sir. And I was wondering—"
"Everything's fine," I intentionally snapped. What was her deal anyway? What was she after by sneaking into my office and asking me things about what she had no relevance to? "Is there anything you need, Miss Song?"
I looked straight into her eyes until she grew uncomfortable and avoided my gaze. Surprising, to say the least, when normally her gaze would be plastered all over me.
"If there's anything else you need—"
"What I need to do is finish my work for the day so I could go back to my wife," I cut her off, wanting her to just leave already. "What I need you to do is let me be in my peace and make sure that there will be no more distractions coming my way. Hold all calls and move any appointment I might have for the rest of the afternoon. I will handle them all once I get back on Monday. No more interruption until I leave the office."
Especially from you.
"Yes, Sir," she muttered softly, bowing slightly before she scurried out of the room.
Tossing down the rest of my drink, I returned to my desk, swallowing the bitterness down my throat. I left because I needed to find peace. Yet it turned out that even my office could no longer bring me the solace I was looking for. Having no work to do, I gathered all my things and prepared to leave, to look for another place where I could cure my sorrow before I could go home to my wife.
A blood-curdling scream filled my head.
And then blood filled my vision. Lots of blood.
I could hear myself screaming, along with my ragged breath, but everything seemed so far away. Even the noises I was making seemed like none of it was coming from me.
But I could still hear myself screaming, pleading—
No. No, please!
As if I already knew what was about to happen, my hands were clutched to my sides and my body was hard and ready. Although I truly had no idea what I was getting ready for.
And then I saw her.
She was standing so beautifully in the distance, right at the center of the room. I had no recollection of where we were but nothing of it mattered. All that mattered was that every light in the room seemed to fall on her. Her presence pulled me in, urging me to reach her, to come closer so I could hold her.
And I did.
I started walking towards her, legs moving on firm footsteps and determination to reach to her side. Yet for some reason, she seemed too far for me to reach. And no matter how far I have walked, I was still getting nowhere closer.
"____?" I called her, my voice sounded muffled when it came out, as if the air had been taken out of my body. She kept her face looking down the whole time, her hands clutching to one another. I called her again as I kept moving closer. Once, twice, then shouted her name louder for her to hear me. "_____!"
That was when she finally raised her face. And all I saw was tears.
"Why, Jungkook?" I heard her say. "I thought you said you loved me."
I do, I do love you, I tried to speak but nothing came out.
"Why, Jungkook?" She asked me again and her sadness slowly turned to rage. "You liar!"
My heart stopped when she turned away. Wait, I wanted to scream when she started running away from me. No, please don't go. Please don't run from me. I heard myself begging her, but still, no sound would come out of my mouth. My legs felt heavy like lead the more I tried to move faster as I came after her, while she kept getting further and further away.
"Please stop, why are you running away from me?"
Then she suddenly stopped and turned to face me. Her tears kept on flowing down like a river on her beautiful face and all I wanted to do was to pull her closer and hold her tight to make it stop. To make this pain in my chest to stop.
"I'm so sorry, ______. I'm so sorry," I heard myself speak. Why am I asking for forgiveness? What did I do?
She started shaking her head and said to me with soft sobs, "It's your fault, Jungkook. It's all your fault."
Then everything that came next happened so fast. The ground beneath her collapsed and there was nothing I could do to stop it when I watched her fall down towards the darkness, as if the ground itself had pulled her with its fall. All I could do was cry for her name as I watched her fall out of my reach, and felt my knees buckling beneath me as I heard it. The sound of blood-curdling scream echoing around me, the sound of broken glasses and metals filled my head that I cringed and had to cover my head and ears, then I opened my eyes to see the ground turning red with blood.
"No, stop," my whole body started shaking as I pushed away from there. "No, please stop."
I was completely shaking when I was pulled awake. My chest felt tight and I found it hard to breathe. Sweat covered my whole body that my shirt, the covers on top of me and the sheets beneath me were all plastered on my skin. My heart was racing inside my chest with the image from my dream still vivid in my head as I opened my eyes to the darkness of my room. I had to blink my eyes many times before I could look around without fearing that the images would return to me.
"Baby, what's wrong?"
I nearly jumped when I heard my wife's sleepy voice coming from beside me, but slightly relaxed when her hand rested on my chest. My breath still felt heavy and my throat felt so dry that I found it hard to answer. But as I turned to her, looking down to see her wide eyes staring up with a deeply concerned look in them, I finally started to calm down. Reaching out to hold her hand that was pressing on my chest, I took in her beautiful sight. She was right here. She was alright. Then I could finally breathe.
"It's nothing," I told her, kissing her forehead to feel her presence.
"Are you sure?"
Exhaling a breath, I could only whisper without looking into her eyes. "Yeah, it's just—probably stress because I had been really tired today. Let me just get a glass of drink and come back, alright?"
She said nothing and only nodded, and I gave her a smile before stepping out of the bed.
The house was dark when I went down the stairs. Turning up only the lights in the kitchen, I went straight to the fridge for the needed cold drink. And then I just sat there, right at the kitchen island, looking out towards the darkness that I could see around me.
The house was quiet, with only the two of us present at night. But it seemed even more hollow as I sat there, wallowing on the weight that was still present in my chest as I started to picture everything we had imagined when we first got married.
We had huge plans when we first bought this house. With lots of children growing around us, with joy and laughter filling our lives. But years later, and here we were, here I was, questioning myself if there was any way to change the silence that felt so thick in the air with our dreams dying. If there was anything I could do to make things better.
How long would this pain be a part of our lives?
How long was I going to feel this guilt and to have these dreams haunt my sleep?
How long was I going to have to face all this punishment?
I looked down, closing my eyes as I pulled on my messy hair. If only I could change the past, then I would, I thought to myself, admitting defeat. If only I could return to that day and change it all, perhaps our lives would be much different now.
I have given everything to change and try to make that change in our lives ever since I was given a second chance with her. But there would always be one thing that I could not change, no matter what I did. And I was going to live with it forever.
I could not remember exactly when I started to drink so often.
I knew that drinking would never solve my problems or ease the sorrow I was feeling inside me, but at least it was able to help me sleep better. The more I drank, the less I dreamt. And that was enough for me. I have had enough of the nightmares, the cryptic images I saw in my dreams.
I had grown restless with the lack of peaceful sleep and it was starting to take a toll on me. I could not work properly and I kept getting too emotional too easily. It did not help that looking at my wife would remind me of the images I saw in those dreams that sometimes I became angry at her. We had fights and arguments, none of them was ever big enough but was still irritating for me to deal with after spending long hours at work.
That was when I started to look for any means of escape.
It all started by drinking on my own at home. But then when my wife started questioning me of my new habit and I started seeing the concerned look in her eyes when she did, so I started to find a way to drink away from home to avoid them every Friday night. Then what had started as once a week of habit became twice, then it became even more often as my friends started asking me out to join them on different occasions.
The more time I spent being out, the more I came home too drunk and too tired to talk, the more we fought.
She hated seeing me that way. She would always wait for me until I returned home, no matter how late I would be. She would never talk about it as she helped me get to bed, nor when she nursed my terrible hangovers the next morning, but she would never be silent when the time was right for her to talk about it. And each time the intervention started, the conversation would only lead to another verbal fight. Until one day, she just grew tired of it and I kept finding ways to dodge the confrontation that she stopped trying, then we just stopped talking altogether.
The distance that was growing between us was hard to ignore, but I just let it happen. She would never understand anyway, I kept telling myself whenever I saw the pain in her eyes when she saw me at my lowest. Nobody could.
It was on a Wednesday night when I went to a bar downtown. It was a fancy new place that I was not too familiar with, located further away from the one I frequently went to. But I was invited by an old friend, someone who was there before my life became what it was, someone who knew me in a much different light.
I had agreed to meet him there when I was reluctant to come home early, after having a small argument with my wife the night before. Hoping that perhaps a little time away and a few drinks might help loosen the tension in my body before coming home to her. A part of me also hoped that meeting up with him would help remind me of the good times and help me forget about everything that was unpleasant back home.
"Remember back then, when everything seemed so easy?" Eunwoo asked me after a few rounds of drink and an hour long of catching up with our lives. "All we did then was party every night, tossed drinks here and there and woke up with hangovers that we had to hide them with sunglasses during those morning classes with Professor Lim."
I could not help but laugh at the memories. "Everything was so simple then," I muttered. So simple, yet it all turned so complicated the moment you looked away.
"Yeah," Eunwoo sighed, drinking his booze down to the last drop, looking so deep in his thoughts as he placed the glass down. "I wonder where things got so wrong."
I let out a scoff. "Too many things at the same time. We got older, we made bad decisions, forgetting how to have fun when we're busy chasing for wealth and careers instead of the things we dreamed about having back in college. Then we start creating more problems to fix all the problems we have created along the way."
My rant was welcomed by silence at first, then I turned to see Eunwoo gawking at me before he laughed. "How drunk are you, man?" he snickered and patted my back. "Why are you turning into the one sulking and being so deep and mellow for?" He suddenly became bitter and turned to his drink. "You've had your chance of wallowing in sorrow for months already. I'm the one who had just gotten a divorce today, so it's now my chance to dwell on my sorrow. You're only here to listen to me sulk while drowning myself in alcohol."
Shaking my head, I took my turn to pat him on his back. "No, man. I'm here to make sure you come out of this place in one piece."
That sure drew a smile on his face. He glanced at me and shook his head. "Let's see who's going to do a better job at it by the end of the night, shall we?" he challenged me then, before waving at the bartender to refill our drinks.
We fell into another round of drink and a long aimless talk before Eunwoo looked bored and glanced around, his eyes falling to another table just across the room which was occupied by two unfamiliar ladies. We must have been so engrossed in our talk that I had not been paying much attention to our surroundings, the place had grown more crowded now that it was getting late, but Eunwoo's eyes seemed to unable to look away once they fell on that certain table.
I followed his eyes after noticing that he had his full attention on them, suddenly getting more interested to know how they managed to catch my intoxicated companion's eyes. The first one I noticed was the one sitting facing us. Even while sitting down, I could tell that she had the body height of a model. She was wearing a crop top and something that looked like a mini skirt from the angle I was seeing her in. And it was clear that my friend's eyes were plastered completely on her when he spoke with a grin,
"Do you think they would welcome us to join them if we buy them a drink?"
There was a feeling and also a thought nagging me at the back of my head, something that kept telling me that I may not like where this was headed. But I pushed them aside and asked anyway, "What are you thinking?"
Eunwoo took another glance at the woman before turning to me. "Remember back then when we went to those frat parties? You always did a good job of being my wingman. I probably wouldn't have had any chance with the girls I hooked up with if it wasn't for you," he said with glassy wide eyes. I had no idea whether the look in his eyes came from reminiscing the old time we spent together or that he was already so drunk. "As this is the first night I am officially back into the market, don't you think I should start practising on my skills with single ladies?"
I could not resist the urge to scoff. "What makes you think they are single?"
He only shrugged and glanced their way again. "I don't know. I've been watching them and pretty sure I haven't seen any dudes joining their table," he said with conviction, then looked deep into my eyes with his signature pleading gaze. The look that had me agreeing to him so many times before when we were back in college. "The tall one seems nice. She looks exactly my type, don't you think?"
Shaking my head, I only chuckled at him. "You mean looking like your ex?"
"Shove it," he scowled, yet the wicked smile on his face remained. "The other one reminds me of that red haired chick who kept following you around and clinging onto your arm the whole time before you met your wife. What was her name?"
I looked over to the pair, finally noticing the other woman who was sitting there with her back on us. I never paid her much attention when I glanced their way before. But even as I looked at her now, all I saw was her long, wavy hair and her fair skin. My mind flew to the past instead of taking the sight of the one I was looking at, suddenly reminded of the girl he was talking about. It took me a moment before I finally remembered her name. "Minhee?" I asked him with a grimace. None of the memory I had with her was pleasing enough to remember.
My reaction drew a chuckle from my friend. "Yeah, that one. That was one weird chick," he said, snickering a little before hiding his own grimace by downing his drink. He placed his empty glass with a loud tap on the table and said, "You can take the small one while I go for the tall friend."
"I'm not taking anyone, you wuss. Unlike you, I am still very much a married man," I goaded with a grin while wiggling my fingers on his face, forcing him to look at my shiny wedding ring.
"Pfft—I'm not insinuating anything, you prick," he scoffed as he pushed me away. "Just talk to her so I could get closer with her friend." Patting my back a few times, he took the bottle of scotch we managed to get from the bar and his empty glass with him and started walking towards their table, looking over his shoulder briefly to make sure I was coming. "Come on already so we can get you home to your wife once I'm done."
Reluctantly, I finally pushed myself off the bar and followed behind him with my drink in hand. I never noticed how tipsy I was getting until I started staggering on my feet right as I began to walk. I truly had no idea why Eunwoo compared this woman with that annoying ex-fling of mine back in college. Perhaps it was the colour of her hair, that look fiery red under the warm lights, or the way she was swaying left to right on her seat to enjoy the music coming from the speakers. But as I finally had gotten closer, waiting for Eunwoo to make his move of getting the invitation he so desperately wanted, I finally took a better look at her and understood why.
I recognised her before she even noticed me standing right by her side. The usual carelessly buttoned-up blouse and the librarian skirt had been replaced with a tight strapless dress wrapping her small body. Her hair that was usually pulled up in a bun had been let loose on her back, looking thick and wavy against her skin. The black kitten heels she normally wore had been replaced by a pair of stilettos that made her legs curve differently.
As Eunwoo took his place next to her friend, she finally looked up to me with no expectation whatsoever. Until her eyes turned wide as she took me in.
"M-Mr. Jeon," she gasped, definitely never expecting to see me there, trying to take the empty seat beside her.
All I did was nod, then forced myself to smile as I greeted her timidly. "Evening, Miss Song Lena."
I had no idea if it was because I was too drunk to notice, or if being in this place made such a difference, but I found myself not minding my secretary's presence at all. In fact, we seemed to have been having such a pleasant time talking and laughing, and cheering with our drinks.
After some point, once I could even barely ignore the way everything around me was turning blurry and started spinning, Eunwoo and his new lady friend had already been gone from our table and Lena started to move much closer. Too close for comfort perhaps, if only it had happened while I was sober. But I could no longer care about it. After such a long time of living in darkness, I was finally having fun. And the woman now clinging to my arm with her chest pressed against my skin was the least of my concern. I was no longer reminded of the pain and was starting to forget the reason why I was here in the first place.
Reaching for the bottle Eunwoo had left behind with only a small amount of drink left in it, I started to refill my glass, wanting to wash away the bitterness that suddenly started to creep in. But before I could have my fill, a small hand reached for mine to stop me.
"Mr. Jeon, I really think—"
Placing my other hand to cover her small one, I looked down on her face. The wide grin on my own face seemed to refuse to go away as I spoke to her. "Please, don't call me that. We're not at the office now, are we? Call me Jungkook."
"Jungkook," she tried it out, smiling just as wide and looking just as drunk as myself. "I really think you've had enough drink, Jungkook. You're really drunk. Perhaps you should tone it down a little or perhaps we should get you home."
Home.
My heart jumped for a brief moment at the mention of my home. My smile instantly faded and I felt terribly bitter as I was reminded of what was waiting for me if I should come home now. My memory was filled with the arguments my wife and I had the night before, the one that had me avoiding to see her tonight for regretting everything I had said to her. I had started to forget it all; all the pain that refused to recede from my chest no matter how hard I kept trying to replace it with anger, the hurt I felt when I saw the hurt in her eyes. I just wanted to erase everything from my memory and erase this pain.
"No, I don't need to stop," I muttered, shaking my head intently while I tried to push away the storm in my head, the overflowing emotion rising in my chest when I thought of her. "I need to forget."
"About what?" Lena asked me. I could not remember how we had gotten so much closer that I could not only see the frown on her face, but also the freckles on her skin. I just wanted to drown myself in her warmth that had been enveloping me—mostly my arm that had been in her clutched hold for the past hour—and in her scent that was much different to the sweetness of my wife's that I had grown used to for years.
I had no idea how I had gotten so close to her until I felt the tip of her nose grazing mine. And I felt her warm breath fanning my lips as I descended even much closer to her.
"Everything," I murmured, keeping my eyes looking at her lips as I pleaded, "Please help me forget."
She said nothing more as I covered her lips in mine, erasing every thought in my head with a searing kiss on her red lips.