Chapter 7:-A Cracked Mask
503 Words
"You should stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like this isn't temporary."
The storm didn’t let up until well after midnight. Thunder rolled in the distance, low and constant, as if the sky itself was holding back something it didn’t want to say. Jungkook had been uncharacteristically quiet since the moment we returned from dinner. No teasing smirks. No dry sarcasm. Just long glances and half-swallowed words.
I sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, towel-drying my hair after a late shower. The air in the villa was thick with humidity and something heavier—unspoken tension.
He stood by the window, arms folded, staring out into the dark rain-slicked horizon like he was at war with it. Or maybe with himself.
"You okay?" I asked, surprising even myself.
He glanced over his shoulder. "Fine."
But his voice was tight. Distant. The kind of fine that was anything but.
I moved to the mini bar and poured two glasses of wine. Maybe not smart. But necessary.
"Here," I said, holding one out to him. "Consider it a peace offering."
He took it slowly, our fingers brushing—his touch too warm, too familiar. My pulse jumped.
We both sat on opposite ends of the couch, wine in hand, silence pooling between us.
"What’s going on in that steel-trap mind of yours?" I asked.
He didn’t answer right away. Swirled his wine. Sighed.
"You ever wonder if we’ve gone too far with this?"
I blinked. "Too far with what?"
His eyes met mine. Intense. Exposed.
"Pretending."
A laugh, too sharp, escaped me. "You were the one who said to play the part."
"I know," he said quickly. "But it’s not just pretending anymore, is it?"
My heart thudded. Loud.
"Isn’t that the whole point?" I whispered. "To make it look real?"
He set his glass down and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"I don’t mean to the cameras. I mean to us."
The rain pelted the windows like a warning. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Jungkook—so usually composed, unreadable—was showing cracks in his armor. And I wasn’t ready for what lay beneath.
"This was supposed to be simple," I murmured.
"You were never simple," he said.
Our eyes locked. His gaze flicked to my lips and back again. The space between us vanished as he leaned forward—slowly, hesitantly, like crossing a minefield.
He stopped just inches away.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered.
But I couldn’t. I didn’t.
So he did.
He backed away, jaw tight, eyes stormy. "This is why I shouldn’t drink."
I swallowed hard, the taste of almost still burning on my tongue.
"Maybe we should set some ground rules," I managed.
He nodded once. "No feelings. No blurring lines."
I nodded too, heart screaming against the rules we just created.
Because feelings? They were already here.
The next morning, Jungkook was gone when I woke. No note. No text.
Just a single espresso cup sitting by the window.
Still warm.
- Writer
