The apartment smelled like vanilla candles and the roses you’d arranged on the dining table. Fairy lights twinkled around the living room, and the framed photos from your wedding day sat polished on the shelf. Two years. Two years of Jungkook’s sleepy smiles, his off-key singing in the shower, the way he’d leave little notes in your bag before work. Today was supposed to be special.

But the clock on the wall had already passed nine, and your messages remained on delivered.

You’d texted him again from the supermarket parking lot, juggling a bag of his favorite snacks and a bottle of wine. Then your phone buzzed.

That was it. No pet name. No “sorry, baby.” Just two cold words.

And then you saw it. His car. Parked a few rows away under the flickering streetlight. The windows were tinted, but not enough to hide the two silhouettes inside. Jungkook, in the suit you’d picked out for him last week. And beside him, a woman—well-dressed, dark hair falling over her shoulders, leaning just a little too close.

Your bag of groceries felt heavier. The wine bottle knocked gently against your leg.

The car door opened. Jungkook stepped out first, adjusting his jacket, his expression unreadable. The woman followed, smoothing her dress, a small smile on her lips. Neither of them had noticed you yet.