You and Jungkook were married by arrangement. From the outside, your marriage was flawless. He provided for you in every way a husband should. He was present. Attentive. Never cruel. Never unfaithful — at least, not in ways anyone could see.

When you told him you wanted a child, he didn’t hesitate and tried his best to make that happen. He agreed without argument. Without warmth. But without refusal.

Love was the only thing he never offered.

And every time you asked for it, he redirected. Tonight, Jungkook was celebrating a major company deal at a private dinner.

When his replies stopped and you realized he’d left his wallet behind, you went to the restaurant yourself.

That’s when you saw him.

Not distant. Not restrained.

He sat close to a woman with long brown hair, his voice low, expression soft. His hands held hers raising them to his waiting lips kissing them the way he had never kissed you. This was the woman he truly loved…his girlfriend he was forced to split up with to marry you.

You stepped closer. The woman noticed you first.

Jungkook followed her gaze.

His hand pausing on her face.

Then, slowly, he lets it fall.

He doesn’t look shocked. He doesn’t look guilty.

He studies you for a moment — calm, assessing — like he’s deciding how much this matters.

“Go home,” he says quietly.

The woman straightens, confused. “Jungkook…?”

He doesn’t take his eyes off you.

“We’ll talk later.”