***UNEDITED***

"And did you think twice before you shook hands with Namjoon and made him shed my blood just to make a point, father?"

Taehyung's voice sounded composed despite the seriousness of the words he uttered. It was rid of disappointment, rid of emotion, as if he wasn't talking about his father spilling his blood. He sat leisurely on the couch, his legs crossed and one arm draped over the headrest of the sofa, while his father stood a few meters away, his face lined with anger like the wrinkles that told of the years he had spent in this world.

When things in life are on the right track, they continue to flourish. Just as money calls for money, success calls for success, one victory calls for another, too. And Taehyung began to win, and ever since, the taste of defeat has been a memory from the past. Something he didn't want to recall. He preferred to forget it.

This confrontation had been long awaited. Taehyung's recurring dream and his most fervent wish. A moment of liberation. Of celebration. A moment to harvest what he sought in the long fall followed by an even longer winter that left no room for the seeds to grow into grains. He raved about it. Expected people to point their fingers at him and call him ungrateful. But that didn't matter, because no one lived what he did. No one walked through the bumpy streets with bare feet like he did. No one rubbed balm on them so they could heal, and no one gave him a pair of shoes, so they might as well kiss his ass.

"I told you to sit tight and watch me take care of it. Since when do you have the balls to take matters into your own hands, Taehyung, huh? Stupid bastard. Look where your plans have gotten us. Now I'm entangled in this shit too."

Taehyung lit a cigarette and watched his father's sclerotic moment with amusement. His voice sounded questioning, but what he said next wasn't a question at all.

"Why do I get the feeling that you keep ignoring the point here, father? Is it a lack of understanding due to your advanced age?" He stood up and walked towards his father. Gaze lacked interest as he looked at the old man and continued: "You never compensated me for the scar you caused. Father, my wife cut open my chest to get the bullet out, and guess what? It took her no less than fifteen stitches to sew me back up. That shit left a horrible scar that scares her every time we -uh-you know, try to conceive your heir. Might as well be why you don't have one yet. Needless to say, you haven't paid her fee. That bill is still pending, too. So, I'm sorry to break it down for you, but I'm not stupid. I'm a calculating businessman, and I owe you that. Nothing is free in business. Your words, not mine."

The way Taehyung held up his hands as if to say, "Your turn," made old Kim's anger skyrocket. He wished he had put an end to his son instead of just scaring him with a glancing bullet. After all, his son never thought of him as a father. Never showed him the affection that a son would show his parents. Never appreciated his presence. Instead, he always felt like he was swarming in his absence. He always appreciated his mother a little more. Fucking mama's boy.

It had been almost two hours since Taehyung had been called by his father to this unrequited meeting. The police had subpoenaed old man Kim two days ago under the allegations of murder conspiracy. He wasn't going alone; no need to worry. Your father was hand in glove with him in the demise. Two reptiles with the same skin shed it together.

See, Taehyung was not a person who sought violence or felt powerful through it. He preferred peace. The beauty that comes with it. The serendipity. He never wanted to live the life he was living now. But he had gotten used to it. Became one of the reptiles, too. A poisonous viper. Still, he seldom bit. But when he had to, he gladly bared his fangs and spat venom. He had given his father chances. So many, to be precise. He would have forgotten the bullet if his father dignified him in the slightest and confronted him with what he had done. But old man Kim had never cared to that point. The nonsense surrounding his son was of lesser importance. His son as a whole wasn't important at all. He was just a successor. The legacy upholder. A replacement when the time called for it.

He was not violent, but he was smart. Cunning. A wolf in the guise of a lamb. Taehyung never told you how he found the tape he used to send Namjon to jail and revoke Yoongi's law license. Or maybe you just didn't ask with insistence. Maybe the fact that you've been avoiding him since that night was the reason. Or maybe the reason was that he did the exact same thing. Namely the avoidance. It's not as if you haven't spoken to each other. You did. It was just that your conversation consisted of good mornings and good afternoons and rarely good nights.

That night, when the high wore off, and your bodies found relief, the reality of your condition was abrasive in its scent. Intrusive. It settled around you like a heavy cloud. Made you search your dress and cover yourself with it without actually pulling it over your body. Made him do the same with his boxers and move to the bar area where he poured himself a glass and asked you if you wanted some, which you refused. He lit a cigarette, sat down on the couch, and said, "Don't sweat it. I can read what you want in your face, Doctor."

And you gulped. Heavily. A lump moved laboriously down your gullet. You raised an eyebrow and said, "And what's that?"

"You want us to forget what happened. I'm not going to disagree. Let's do it your way."

At that moment, you wanted to tell him that the memory was already burned into your brain and that ink is hard to remove. Wanted to tell him that it would haunt you in your dreams and daydreams too. Wanted to tell him that you didn't want to pretend that nothing ever happened because everything that happened meant so much to you. That it was your heart's choice when it finally found a way to express a desire you didn't know you had. Wanted to share with him what was on your mind, lay it on the table and dust it off so you could have a clear view.

"It's better this way." But that's what you said instead. "Good night." And that was the last time you saw him at night. He came home less and less often. But you saw him at work, though. Would take a coffee while you studied a deal. Sometimes, you'd have lunch together while he signed files that were blocking your work. And you would wish him a good afternoon before you went home while he stayed late at work.

That's why you never knew that the tape had been stolen from Namjoon. The man never trusted the people of the law. He always felt the need to protect himself from them. He knew he had an arrangement with Yoongi, but that didn't mean he considered him a friend. And certainly not that he trusted him. So, he decided on a means of protection. The sole one available to him which was to record a meeting that was supposed to remain secret.

It wasn't difficult. But it wasn't a sure thing either. Taehyung had no way of knowing that Namjoon had recorded anything, but Namjoon's driver-in-secretary had a big mouth that opened wide when he saw money. So when the doubt was confirmed and Taehyung knew for sure that Namjoon wasn't operating alone but with Yoongi, your favorite fuckboy turned enemy, he figured he could take a small risk. A hacker intern in the IT department did the job quite dutifully when Jungkook flashed a bundle of ten grand. The whole thing took him almost an hour to find the video in Namjoon's gallery along with some of his nudes.

And whoops, that's how the domino began to collapse. Taehyung was almost certain that Namjoon would mention his father's involvement. After all, Namjoon used to be a friend whom he knew very well. The man doesn't like to fall alone. So there was only one thing left to complete the scenario: A proof to sustain Namjoon's claims.

When he parked in front of Yoongi's villa, he was overcome with a feeling reminiscent of a phlegm that refused to come out with a good cough. It keeps tormenting the chest and blocking the normal flow of air. The glass wall reminded him of your feat with his ex-lawyer and made him actually cough and spit on the ground near the fountain, which was a few steps away from the glass wall.

"Listen, Yoongi. I have your best interest at heart; that's why I'm here. It's very simple. You testify, and I'll get you your law license back. It's as easy as that."

"If you think I have the means or the will to go against your father, Taehyung, you're dead wrong."

"Oh, but did my father help you when your license puf, disappeared? Yoongi, you should start believing in innovation. I'm promising you a future here, and in return for what? A few little words. That's all. Be smart."

And Yoongi became a small bird with a delicate voice, singing what Taehyung requested in the dimly lit prosecutor's office. This earned his father a subpoena and the urgent need for a lawyer. Because Yoongi didn't hold back. He explained how your father planned Jimin's return to the country by employing his sister in the state. The girl had found a job as a part-time model for an online boutique until she ended up being photographed in undignified poses by cameras paid for by no one but your father. This was used as leverage to get Jimin back into the country. And when he made it to the airport, old man Kim made sure he couldn't spend one night in it alive.

A payback for what you had done to him. And if you ask about your father's reasons, well, old man Kim was his well of money that he wished would never dry up.

Old Man Kim lost the last vestige of compusore he had promised to maintain for the sake of image perservation. With unbridled zeal, he walked up to his son, grabbed him by the collar, and hissed, "If you keep this up, Taehyungie, I'll make sure you don't see a scar next time. I'll make that bitch a widow at a young age. Be smart and come to your senses. You are no match for me, son."

Taehyung took his hands off his collar, straightened his suit, and smiled. A set of pearly whites shining. A smile that could be mistaken for genuine, and maybe it was. "I'd like to see you try, Father."

Yeah, he didn't tell you all those details, but you had Jungkook to impersonate a mailman. If your husband couldn't show a genuine smile, you made up for it. Yours was infectious. Heartfelt. One with realistic emotions. Jungkook realized he'd never seen you smile like that before. Wondered if that was a common occurrence before he and his friend came into your life. Reckoned that with the type of parents you had, the chances weren't that great.

That night, you prepared dinner. You also opened a bottle of champagne. You hoped he'd be in a good mood when he got home. Wished he would at least come home. Wondered if it would be better to eat first or to tell him that couldn't forget that night. On second thought, you didn't think the order mattered. You would tell him that there was a feeling in your heart that you were still trying to understand. Would tell him that you wanted to learn its meaning with him. You would tell him that you want to discover every definition and antonym together. Would tell him that you weren't sure about its nature, but that you had a tiny idea of what it might be. You'd tell him, if he asked, that you were almost sure, that you just needed a hand to hold yours while you discovered new paths. You'd ask for his hand because you liked the way it felt around your palm, fingers intertwined.

"Hey!" You greeted as he made it past the threshold.

"Doctor!" And he wished he could say more to greet you. Do more.

"I made dinner," you began. Walked towards him, closing the distance that separated you. It was unbearable. Fucking shitty. Jesus, just a few weeks ago, you were shagging in this living room. How could you pretend to be strangers? Just how?

"Seems like the news travels fast." He exclaimed when he saw the champagne. The food was good. Simple. A steak with some roasted vegetables. He appreciated it. Appreciated having you in his house even more.

"Good news does." You grinned. Pretty, he decided, "Let's dig in." You poured the champagne and took a seat across from him. "I also have something I want to talk to you about."

"Me too." He sipped his glass. Eyes so pretty as he looked at you with a look that you could certainly classify as appreciation. So you decided to let him shoot first. He had done many things and had many topics to discuss. Yours could wait.

Yours needed liquid courage to be discussed. You were still completely sober. It wouldn't work like that.

"It's about our marriage." And you tensed up. Wished you had spoken first. You didn't know why, but you didn't like the approach. Seemed cold. Devoid of feelings, you concluded. "It wasn't about what your parents told you. It was about politics from our side, in the counterpart, your side received monetary compensation."

See, you already hated your father, but now? Now, you felt elated that the prosecution and the media were attacking him. Wished he would go to jail soon to pay for what he did to you. To Jimin. Hell, to Taehyung, too.

"Here," and before you could digest what he'd served you. Before you could swallow it down with alcohol and maybe some nicotine, he continued, as if the bomb he'd dropped wasn't destructive enough. As if everything you've been through in this year and a half wasn't dramatic enough. A manila envelope was handed to you. Sealed, still. Seemed thick. Heavy. It definitely contained something you wouldn't like because it came from the Court of Appeal. The family division.

"This contains your freedom, Doctor. True, I can't give you back the days that were taken from you. I can't turn back the past. But I sure can help you find the future you've always wanted. Help you find the normality you lost because of me is the least I can do. I signed the papers. Made sure you got ownership of this house and gave you the leeway to ask for anything you want. The only thing needed is your signature, and my lawyer will take care of the rest."

What?

But he wasn't finished yet. And you weren't ready to hear more, but you listened. "I'm sorry for what I put you through. I really hope you can forgive me one day."

"Right. Well, um - thank you, I guess?" After a deafening silence and intense eye contact, you added: "Now it's my turn to hold your olive branch. I forgive You, Taehyng."

That evening, you were unable to give an answer, let alone sign any documents. You told him you needed time to process all the news and excused yourself to your room without eating what you had prepared. Appetite was gone. In its place came the urgent need to smoke and breathe fresh air uncontaminated by his perfume and the different notes it carried. You didn't cry. You didn't laugh, either. You didn't do anything, full stop. You sat on your bed and didn't know how the night passed. Nor did you know how the nights after that passed, either.

The days that followed were not much different. You went to work. Your actual work at the clinic. Followed your schedule, and sometimes you slept in instead of going home. You weren't sure if you could call it home, even though he had signed it under your name. It just didn't feel like home anymore.

He came by your clinic once, asked your secretary to meet you, but you told her you had to have an urgent operation and she passed on the message.

You were afraid that he would ask for your signature now that some time had passed. Didn't had the courage to tell him about your feelings anymore now that it seemed clear he didn't have any for you. So, you figured that avoidance was the key in such cases.

You convinced yourself you'd forget the way your heartbeat had been screaming his name ever since he transferred his essence into you. Ever since he fucked you like he meant it. Made love to you. It was an insult to your intelligence that you saw feelings in his eyes as he touched you, hugged you, kissed you, when if you'd looked closely, you would have figured out it was just a carnal desire. A physical attraction. He just felt the need to fuck, and you were the only woman he had within reach at that moment. But in time, the disappointment would fade. The feelings would subside. It will hurt for a while, but it will go away, just like grief eventually comes to an end. That's how life works. The parameters of the brain are fascinating, you learned this lately.

For the love of god, though, how could you always misjudge people? So stupid.

But days turned into weeks, and you couldn't spend your whole life on the run. So you resigned yourself to your decision. You took off the scrubs and put on your clothes. It was rainy. A stormy night that made the drive from Seoul Gangnam to the outskirts a little complicated, and you assumed fate was sending you a message. An obstacle to stop you. Shortly after, you realized that fate would never support a coward. So you drove through the rain and the complicated feelings until you reached your house. Felt your heart beat faster when you saw his car parked in the driveway, but you continued on your way. Steps calculated. Face neutral.

When you entered the house, he wasn't far from the living room, where he'd fucked you senseless. A tumbler of bourbon in his hand and a cigarette between his fingers.

It's such a shame that one can't read the other's mind. If it had been possible, you would have seen that he couldn't sleep for a second in your absence. That the waiting time you imposed on him was killing him from the inside out. If you could have taken a look into his heart, you would have seen how much it hurt him that you didn't give him a chance, that everything that happened between you meant nothing to you. That you never managed to see him as your forever after while he was sure that he wouldn't feel what he felt for you for anyone else. He didn't want to feel anything for anyone anymore, period.

He wasn't disappointed. He was hurt, that is.

See, Taehyung was convinced that he was in love with Katarina. Thought he knew what that feeling meant. But when his mind and heart decided that the way he desired you was completely different, he found out that love was what he felt for you, and it drove him crazy because he couldn't understand when his heart started beating for you. Couldn't understand why you, of all the people who could have reciprocated his feelings. It was a curse; he was sure of it. A beautiful curse that he was set to cherish so his heart could keep functioning, even if his brain stopped working.

You walked up to him with a scrutinizing look. The ashtray was full. The place seemed unkempt. Many things were out of place, but you wouldn't go so far as to say it was dirty.

"Where are the helpers?"

"Doctor! What brought you here? I mean, it's your house, so you can come whenever you want; I just thought you were busy at the clinic."

"I came to give you an answer, Kim. My final answer, whether you like it or not. I have no intention of accepting this divorce, nor do I want to accept your alimony. If you want to divorce so badly, let's settle this in court."