Chapter 4

The air in their new apartment was thick with a silence that pressed down on Jungkook, far heavier than any sound of the city outside. The opulent living room, still adorned with untouched floral arrangements from the wedding, felt cold and impersonal. Taehyung had disappeared into one of the bedrooms almost immediately upon their arrival, leaving Jungkook alone to shed the burdensome finery of his wedding suit. He changed into comfortable clothes, his movements slow, his mind replaying the day's strained interactions, the blankness in Taehyung's eyes.

He paced the empty hallway, a growing dread churning in his stomach. This wasn't how it was supposed to feel. Not after a wedding. He'd imagined gentle conversations, shared smiles, a quiet understanding blossoming between them. Instead, there was this suffocating void.

Taking a deep breath, he approached the door to what he assumed was Taehyung's chosen room. He knocked softly. "Taehyung-ssi? Are you... okay?"

There was a long pause, then a muffled "Come in."

Jungkook pushed the door open to find Taehyung sitting on the edge of the bed, still in his wedding attire, his head bowed. The elegant fabric seemed to swallow him, making him appear smaller, more fragile. The veil lay discarded on the floor like a forgotten promise. The faint scent of paint, which Jungkook now recognized as Taehyung's signature, mingled with the lingering floral notes of the ceremony, creating a bittersweet perfume in the air.

"Taehyung-ssi," Jungkook began, his voice gentle, trying to bridge the chasm between them. "Are you alright? You seem... upset."

Taehyung slowly lifted his head, and Jungkook finally saw it – the raw anguish that had been hidden behind the serene facade all day. Taehyung's eyes were glistening, a lone tear tracing a path down his cheek. His lips trembled as he struggled to speak.

"Jungkook-ssi," Taehyung whispered, his voice hoarse, barely audible. He looked up, his gaze meeting Jungkook's, and this time there was no blankness, only a profound, desperate misery. "I... I have to tell you something."

Jungkook's heart clenched, anticipating the blow. He sat carefully on the edge of a nearby armchair, bracing himself. "Go on," he urged, his voice steady despite the tremor in his own hands.

"My parents... they forced me into this," Taehyung confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush, each one a fresh stab to Jungkook's heart. "I never wanted this marriage. I told them... I told them my heart belongs to someone else."

Jungkook's breath hitched. The air seemed to leave his lungs. He felt a sudden, dizzying lurch, as if the entire room had tilted. He knew, intellectually, that this was a possibility, but hearing it, so stark and raw, was a different kind of pain. His vision blurred for a moment, the shimmering chandeliers above turning into hazy constellations.

"Who?" Jungkook managed to ask, the word a mere whisper.

Taehyung choked back a sob. "Hoseok. Jung Hoseok. He... he was my everything. My first love. And I still... I still love him." His voice broke, cracking with the weight of his despair. "They wouldn't listen. They said it was for the family, for stability. They gave me no choice. I'm so sorry, Jungkook-ssi. You deserve better. You deserve someone who can love you wholly."

The confession hung in the air, a devastating silence filling the grand, empty apartment. Jungkook felt a profound chill seep into his bones, colder than any winter wind. His dreams, so carefully nurtured, so optimistically embraced, shattered into a million tiny fragments around him. The vision of a shared life, of gentle smiles and blossoming affection, evaporated in an instant.

Taehyung's misery was palpable, a raw wound laid bare. And in that moment, Jungkook saw not a new husband, but a fellow captive, equally bruised by the relentless march of expectation. The pain was sharp, almost unbearable, but underneath it, a strange sense of empathy began to stir. He looked at the man across from him, whose beautiful face was now contorted in sorrow, and felt a complex mix of heartbreak for himself, and pity for the stranger who had been forced to inflict it. The illusion of their perfect union had vanished, leaving behind only the stark, desolate landscape of two broken hearts.

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