The breakfast table was unusually quiet despite the bustle of preparations in the house. Light streamed through the tall dining room windows, casting warm hues on the marble floor. Outside, gardeners pruned hedges and landscapers worked to perfect the grounds, but inside, a heavy silence lingered.

Yoongi sat near the end of the table, barely touching the eggs on his plate. Across from him, Taehyung scrolled absently through his phone, occasionally shooting glances at Seokjin, who was flipping through a thick binder of wedding schedules.

At the head of the table sat their father, reading the morning paper. Though he hadn’t said much, his presence filled the room like a thundercloud, heavy and impossible to ignore.

“You’ve been quiet,” their father said suddenly, lowering the paper just enough to peer at Yoongi. His voice was even, but there was a sharpness to it, a challenge hidden beneath the surface.

Yoongi stiffened. “I didn’t think anyone wanted to hear me talk.”

Taehyung stopped scrolling, his eyes darting nervously between Yoongi and their father. Seokjin tensed as well, though he kept his focus on the binder in front of him.

Their father folded the paper neatly and set it aside. “You’ve been gone for years, Yoongi. I expect you to contribute something while you’re here. Or did you come back just to sulk?”

Yoongi’s grip on his fork tightened, but he forced himself to keep his voice calm. “I’m here for Seokjin’s wedding. Isn’t that enough?”

Their father leaned back in his chair, his gaze cold and calculating. “Barely.”

“Father,” Seokjin interjected, his tone polite but firm. “Yoongi’s been helping in his own way. Let’s not turn this into something it doesn’t need to be.”

Their father glanced at Seokjin, his expression unreadable. “I trust you’ll keep him in line, then.”

Before Yoongi could respond, the door to the dining room opened, and their mother entered. Her presence immediately softened the tension in the room. Dressed in a light blue blouse and a flowing skirt, she carried an air of quiet grace that seemed to brighten the space.

“Good morning,” she said warmly, setting down a platter of freshly sliced fruit. “I hope I’m not too late.”

“You’re back,” Seokjin said, visibly relaxing. “How did everything go?”

“Busy as always,” she replied, pouring herself a cup of tea. “The caterers needed last-minute adjustments, and the florists couldn’t decide on a theme, but everything’s settled now.”

She turned her attention to Yoongi, her smile softening. “Yoongi, dear, it’s so good to have you back. Are you eating enough? You look tired.”

Yoongi hesitated, caught off guard by her concern. “I’m fine,” he muttered.

She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as she passed him, her touch light but grounding. “You’ve always been one to say you’re fine when you’re not,” she said softly. “If there’s anything you need, just let me know.”

Yoongi didn’t respond, but the sincerity in her voice stayed with him as she moved to sit beside their father.

Time skip

The house was alive with activity as the staff prepared for Namjoon’s family’s arrival. Decorators worked tirelessly in the foyer, stringing fairy lights along the staircase and arranging centerpieces on every available surface. The distant hum of vacuums filled the hallways, and outside, gardeners trimmed hedges to perfection.

Yoongi lingered in the library, leaning against the window as he watched a delivery truck pull into the driveway. His thoughts were distant, replaying the breakfast conversation with his father.

“You’ve been hiding in here all morning,” a familiar voice said from the doorway.

Yoongi turned to see his mother standing there, holding a tray with two cups of tea. She smiled softly, motioning for him to sit down.

“I thought we could talk,” she said, setting the tray on a small table near the window.

Yoongi hesitated but eventually sat across from her. He accepted the tea she offered, the warmth of the cup seeping into his hands.

“I’ve missed having you here,” she said after a moment, her voice gentle. “The house feels fuller when all three of you are together.”

Yoongi stared into his tea, unsure how to respond. “I’m only here for the wedding,” he said finally.

“I know,” she replied, her smile never faltering. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be happy to see you.”

Her words made his chest tighten, but he didn’t let it show.

“Why did you leave, Yoongi?” she asked softly, her tone careful.

The question caught him off guard. He had been waiting for someone to ask, but now that it was here, he didn’t know how to answer.

“I couldn’t stay,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t… pretend that everything was fine.”

Her eyes searched his face, and for a moment, Yoongi felt like she could see through him—through the walls he had built, the secrets he had buried.

“You’ve always carried more than you should,” she said gently. “But you don’t have to do that alone, Yoongi. Not anymore.”

Before he could respond, the sound of car doors slamming outside broke the moment. Taehyung’s voice echoed down the hallway, followed by Seokjin’s cheerful greeting. Namjoon’s family had arrived.

The arrival of Namjoon, Jimin, and Jungkook brought a burst of energy into the mansion. Seokjin greeted Namjoon at the door with a wide smile, pulling him into a hug.

“Welcome!” Seokjin said warmly. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Behind Namjoon, Jimin and Jungkook stepped inside, their expressions ranging from excitement to quiet curiosity.

Their mother appeared moments later, her smile bright as she approached the group. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you all,” she said warmly. “Namjoon has told us so much about you.”

“Thank you for having us,” Namjoon replied, his dimples deepening as he smiled.

As introductions continued, Yoongi stayed back, watching from the shadows of the hallway. He wasn’t sure what to make of Namjoon’s family—their easy laughter, the way they seemed to bring light into the house. It was so different from the tension that had hung over his own family for so long.

“Yoongi!” Seokjin called, motioning for him to join them. “Come say hello!”

Yoongi sighed but stepped forward, offering Namjoon a brief handshake and a polite nod.

Jimin’s mischievous grin widened as he extended a hand. “You must be Yoongi. You seem like the quiet type.”

“Do I?” Yoongi replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Definitely,” Jimin said with a laugh.

Despite himself, Yoongi found the corners of his mouth twitching upward. For the first time in years, the house felt alive.

...........................................