Jungkook wiped his hands on an apron that had seen better days. The tiny food stall he owned sat at a bustling corner of the city, but the faces of his customers blurred in the background. He mechanically prepared the noodles, a dish once savored by his wife during their happy moments, and the thought twisted like a knife in his heart. At 25, he felt aged by grief, each passing day a reminder of the family he had lost

Three months had passed since the accident—an ordinary morning turned catastrophic. The memory replayed endlessly in Jungkook’s mind like a haunting film: the sound of metal crunching, the shrieks of tires skidding, and then, silence—an unbearable silence that swallowed everything whole. The world had continued to spin, but he remained stuck in that moment, craving the light of the lives that had once filled his own

The familiar quirk of his lips, once reserved for laughter, had been etched away. Now, he forced smiles for the customers who frequented his stall, washing away the loneliness with every bowl of steaming noodles he served. Yet, there lingered an oppressive darkness that shadowed him, a looming presence that he could never shake off

Jungkook: he is standing on his food stall cooking food for customers he notice some babies with their parents he holding his tears