Chapter 61 - The Noise That Wasn't There

A week later, Jungkook went out for his first short walk. He still couldn't perform basic tasks, but the doctors allowed him to breathe the cool air without supervision. Jimin stayed home with Yuna, who was trying to build a snowman on the balcony with a bowl full of snow. Instead of carrots, she stuck a crayon in it and proudly named it “Mr. Mruk.”

Everything looked normal on the street. People were rushing, rolling their eyes at traffic jams, carrying groceries. No one looked at him. No one knew how much he was hurting inside. In his chest, there was an emptiness smoldering—not so much painful as tired. It had frozen after the battle, as if his body didn't know yet that the war was over.

A boy about Jimin's age stopped in front of the bakery. He was wearing a black jacket and a cap, and he was holding a poster in his hands.

“Mr. Jeon?” he asked uncertainly.

Jungkook nodded, surprised.

“I work for one of the platforms that collaborates with Mr. Park. We're producing a documentary about independent music. He... didn't say it was about you too.”

“About us?”

“It shows what love looks like off stage. No filters. No sugarcoating.”

Jungkook didn't know what to say. The boy smiled slightly and walked away, leaving him his business card. He didn't try to explain anything else. He didn't make excuses. He just left a trace. It was nothing, but it was enough to set Jungkook's mind racing for the rest of the day.

When he returned to the apartment, Yuna snuggled up to him, and Jimin handed him some tea.

“You know someone's making a movie about you, right?” Jungkook asked quietly.

Jimin stopped in his tracks. ”I wanted to tell you, but... I didn't know how.”

“Tell me now.”

“I wanted the world to see that love doesn't have to be loud to be real.”

Jungkook looked at him intently. There was no anger in his eyes. There was something much more moving—relief. Maybe the world was finally starting to listen.

That evening, after Yuna had gone to bed, Jungkook asked Jimin to play him something from his new material. The song was raw, simple, with a single piano and a quiet voice that seemed to whisper. The words didn't speak directly about them, but they were there. Each line was a mirror—unpolished, but real.

“This is us,” Jungkook said. ‘No matter who listens to it.”

Jimin nodded. ’But if even one child who is also afraid to love differently hears this... it will mean it was worth it.”

After a moment, Jimin sat down next to him and rested his head on his shoulder. Jungkook closed his eyes. They didn't need to say anything. Their silence was full of meaning, memories, and a shared burden that wasn't so hard to bear when they shared it together.

Outside the window, Seoul was beginning to fade, the streetlights melting in the rain, and in the middle of this quiet, simple evening, there was a moment that tasted like peace.

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Chapter 62 - Unspoken

Jimin sat at his desk, staring at the computer screen. He played the same track over and over again on his headphones - an unfinished song that was supposed to be part of his latest project. Each note sounded like an echo of something lost, yet familiar. Whispered words of trust, of uncertainty, of being home—they were too personal to reveal publicly, but too true to ignore.

Yuna was sleeping behind the wall. Jungkook also fell asleep, tired from the pain, but calmer than usual. The last few weeks had been difficult for them, full of emotions, quiet conversations, and even quieter gestures. Everything seemed fragile—like porcelain balancing on the edge of a table.

Jimin turned off the computer and walked through the apartment. He sat down on the edge of the couch where Jungkook was sleeping, nestled in a pillow, his cast still heavy and stiff. For a moment, he just watched—his calm breathing, his trembling eyelids. Jungkook was dreaming. Jimin didn't want to wake him, but he couldn't go back to his empty desk.

“Sometimes I feel like I'm going to lose you,” he said quietly, even though Jungkook couldn't hear him. ”Not because you're going to leave. Just because the world will decide that we can't be together.”

Jungkook stirred slightly. His hand, unwrapped from the cast, fell to his side, almost touching Jimin's hand.

Jimin took it.

“But I can't let you go anymore.”

He didn't record anything else that evening. He lay down next to him. He held his hand. He breathed in time with him. And for the first time in a long time, he wasn't afraid of tomorrow.

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Chapter 63 - Shadows of the Past

The morning was peaceful, but only outside. Inside, Jungkook and Jimin were smoldering with tension that even the most tender gestures couldn't drown out. When the phone rang and Jungkook saw the unknown number, he knew it wasn't going to be good news.

“Mr. Jeon, this is Curator Lee. There have been new developments in the case of Yuna's custody. Your late wife's sister has filed a petition to take her into her care. A meeting has been scheduled for tomorrow.”

Jungkook's ears rang. The curator's voice faded away, and he had only one thought in his head: I won't let them take her away.

Jimin, seeing how pale he was, took the phone and finished the call. Then he sat down next to him.

“Don't worry. We're family. No one can take that away from us.”

But there was something uncertain in his voice too. Fear. Not for himself, but for what might happen if the system decided to tear them apart.

In the evening, Yuna drew a picture of her family—herself, her dad, and Jimin. Underneath the picture, she wrote, “We are together.”

Jungkook looked at the drawing and felt that whatever happened, they couldn't give up.

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Chapter 64 - In a room full of stares

The courtroom was not a place Jungkook ever wanted to be. Certainly not as a father whose paternity was being questioned. The room was cold, wooden, too formal. Haneul's sister sat on the other side, her face drained of emotion. As if everything had already been decided.

Jimin was next to him. They didn't need to talk—his presence was enough. The curator looked at them, then at the judge. And the hearing began.

“Mr. Jeon, please tell us what life is like with your daughter.”

Jungkook spoke. About morning cocoa. About fear of the dark. About laughter during fairy tales. About Jimin's piano and evening conversations about the sky. Every sentence was a picture. Every word was a prayer that someone in that room would hear more than just the facts.

When asked about Jimin, he said:

“Yuna doesn't need a 'traditional family'. She needs people who love her. Who will be there for her even when everything falls apart.”

Jimin was called as a witness. He spoke calmly, quietly. But when he talked about Yuna, his voice trembled.

“She chose me,” he said. ”And I choose her every day. And him.” Because this is my home.

The judge wrote something down in her notes. The courtroom fell silent, the silence so thick you could cut it with a knife.

After it was over, they went outside. Jungkook grabbed Jimin's hand and squeezed it tightly.

“I don't know what's going to happen. But I know I'm not going through this without you.”

Jimin just nodded.