AUTHOR'S POV

A week later—

The war was finally over.

Rika was sent to the prison.

For the first time in months, the gunfire had fallen silent, and the night didn’t smell like smoke or blood, only rain and whiskey.

The small bar just outside the base was dimly lit, its walls covered in old military posters and bullet holes that had stories of their own.

The soldiers laughed, cheered, and raised their glasses, their relief echoing louder than any victory march.

At a corner table sat Major Jeon Jungkook and Commander Jung Hoseok.

Two men who had seen hell.... and dragged their men back from it.

Hoseok was grinning ear to ear, his glass half-empty already.“You know, if it wasn’t for you, Major, we’d be drinking this in the afterlife. You saved our necks. Again.”

Jungkook didn’t smile. He just swirled the amber liquid in his glass, his reflection flickering in the whiskey like a ghost.“I didn’t save anyone, Commander. We just… finished what they started.”

Hoseok snorts “You’re too damn modest for someone who walked straight into the North’s den with a spy at his side. You realize what you did? That was suicide.... smart suicide.”

Hoseok raised his glass high.“To Major Jeon Jungkook, the brain behind the victory!”

The soldiers nearby cheered his name, the sound echoing through the bar.

But Jungkook just gave a faint nod, finishing his drink in silence.“It wasn’t just me.”

“Ah right, your little asset — Rika. I heard the President himself wants to meet you for this. Medal of Honour, maybe?”

For the first time, Jungkook’s lips twitched, a shadow of a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Medals don’t erase blood. They just make it look prettier.”

The bar fell quieter for a moment. Even Hoseok’s grin softened as he watched the man beside him, the soldier who never celebrated his wins, only carried their cost.

Outside, rain began to fall, tapping lightly against the windows.

------

The crowd had thinned out. The loud cheers faded into soft murmurs, and the jukebox hummed a slow, nostalgic tune in the background.

The air still carried the faint buzz of alcohol and victory, but between Jungkook and Hoseok, it was peaceful now.

Hoseok leaned back in his chair, his uniform slightly undone, exhaustion written all over his face but his grin still alive.“So… what now, Major? War’s over. No more explosions, no more spies. What’s next for the great Jeon Jungkook?”

Jungkook looked at his half-empty glass, then at the reflection of the warm light bouncing off it.

For the first time in weeks, his voice softened.“Home.”

Hoseok blinked, surprised.“Home?”

Offcourse he was surprised because ever since Jungkook joined the military academy, though his mother keeps visiting him from time to time but he never visited his home.

Jungkook nods faintly“Yeah… I haven’t seen my mother in months. She keeps sending me letters… says she’s proud, but I can tell she’s scared every time she writes. I think it’s time I go home. Just for a while.”

Hoseok chuckled, taking another sip of his drink.“That’s rare — the mighty Major Jeon actually taking a break. Good for you.”

Then he sighed dramatically.“Guess that means I’ll be the only one dragging myself back to headquarters. And after that, straight to the academy. New cadets are joining next month…”

Hoseok groaned, rubbing his temples like a man already tired of the future.“God help me, these kids are hopeless. Half of them can’t even march straight, the other half think war’s like a video game. Lord have mercy, this new generation’s going to make me go bald before retirement.....fuck the retirement I'm not even married yet.”

Jungkook laughed quietly, the sound deep and rare. He raised his glass slightly, eyes gleaming.“Be strong, Commander. You survived the North, I’m sure you can handle a few cocky recruits.”

Hoseok pointed at him with his glass, smirking.“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one dealing with their tantrums.”

Jungkook leaned back, exhaling softly.“I’ll join you soon. Just need a few days at home… then I’ll report to the academy. Promise.”

Hoseok said grinning“I’ll hold you to that. Don’t make me come drag you out of your mom’s kitchen.”

For the first time in days, Jungkook’s face broke into a genuine smile.“You wouldn’t dare.”

Hoseok wiggle his brows“Oh, I would. You know me.”

They clinked their glasses one last time, not just for victory, but for survival. For peace, however temporary it was.

Outside, the night stretched calm and endless.

And for the first time in a long while, Jungkook allowed himself to believe he’d earned a little rest.

★★★

Busan—

The train screeched to a halt, the whistle echoing through the calm morning air. When Jungkook stepped down onto the platform, the first thing that hit him was the smell of the sea — salt, wind, and memory.

Busan.

His hometown.

His beginning.

He stood still for a moment, eyes closed, letting the breeze brush against his face. It felt foreign and familiar all at once, like touching a dream you’d long forgotten.

Six years.

Six long, merciless years since he’d left.

Six years of training, orders, gunfire, blood, and survival.

The city had changed.

New buildings rose where old shops once stood, neon lights replaced warm street lamps, and the sound of laughter felt almost unreal to him now.

Friends had visited him over the years, his mom and dad too, letters, phone calls, the occasional short visit, but none of it ever pulled him back.

Not until now.

He adjusted the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder and started walking through the familiar streets. Kids ran past him, chasing each other with popsicles, couples laughed under the soft morning sun.

Busan felt too calm, almost unreal after years of living in chaos, bombs, gunfire, orders shouted across blood and sand.

And all he could think was, this world doesn’t know chaos anymore.

Lucky them, he thought, a faint smirk crossing his lips.

On his way he came across the old street he used to roam around with his friends, side by side , laughing chatting about their day, not caring about what future held for them.

That time they were young....wild and free.

And oh not to forget the cafe he used to spend his evening at....but never mind those were just memories.... memories he tried so hard to bury inside his heart but failed to do so.

He reached for his phone, scrolling through the old messages from his mother. Every one of them started the same way

“I’m proud of you, my son.”

And every time he’d read those words, he’d felt the same sharp sting, pride always came with fear.

He remembered his father's words.....how she used to open his letters.

Never in one go.

Always with trembling hands, a deep breath, a sip of water, preparing herself for the worst before she could read the best. Because being the mother of a soldier isn’t about waiting, it’s about surviving every heartbeat in between.

He could still hear her voice from those years ago, sharp and unyielding, when he was just a young candidate....she’d stood in front of the academy’s board and demanded to see her son.

“You can’t keep a mother from her child, no matter how high your ranks are!”

And eventually ended up living in the base with him for almost a week , to ensure he was doing good.

That fire, that’s where he got his strength from.

------

When Jungkook stood at the doorstep of his house, he paused for a second.

The familiar wooden door, the flowerpots his mother stubbornly watered every morning—it all looked exactly the same. He took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell.

Seconds later, a familiar voice came muffled from inside.

“Who the hell keeps pressing the doorbell like it’s free electricity?! Yah! Can’t you wait for one second? I swear, if it’s that grocery store guy again—”

But her words froze.

The moment she opened the door, her eyes widened, lips parting in disbelief. For a heartbeat, she couldn’t move.

“Mom,” Jungkook said softly, his voice low but trembling just enough.

That’s when the dam broke. Her already glassy eyes overflowed as she dropped the handkerchief she was holding.

“Oh my God… Jungkook-ah…”

“Hey, Mom. Don’t cry,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “Look, I’m here.”

“You son of a lizard!” she scolded between sobs, smacking his shoulder. “Can’t you visit us once before running off to the border again? Do you know how worried I’ve been?!”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mom, are you really going to interrogate me on the doorstep?”

She blinked, realizing they were still standing outside, and gasped.

“Oh—oh my God, look at me! My son just came home after years and I’m yelling at him like a madwoman! What’s wrong with me?!”

Before he could say another word, she grabbed his arm and dragged him inside.

“Mom, mom—chill!” Jungkook laughed, half-amused and half-scared, nearly stumbling as she tugged him through the hallway.

------

The moment Jungkook stepped into the house, the smell hit him—spicy kimchi stew, freshly steamed rice, and that familiar scent of soy-marinated bulgogi his mom only made when she was really happy.

“Oh, you must be starving,” she said, already rushing toward the kitchen. “You didn’t even tell me you were coming today! I would’ve made your favorites in the morning!”

“Mom, it’s fine. I just—”

“Sit!” she ordered, pointing at the dining chair like a commander on a battlefield.

Jungkook raised his hands in defeat and sat, watching her bustle around. In less than a minute, the table was covered with food—bowls after bowls appearing like magic.

“Mom, this could feed a whole squad,” he said, laughing as she piled rice into his bowl.

“You are my whole squad,” she shot back, wiping her hands on her apron. “Eat. You look thinner.”

“I literally gained muscle,” he protested, flexing his arm slightly.

His mom rolled her eyes. “That’s not muscle, that’s stubbornness.”

From the living room, his father finally spoke up, chuckling as he leaned back on the sofa with his newspaper. “He’s still getting scolded even after coming home a hero, huh?”

Jungkook turned his head toward him and grinned. “Appa, I missed that dry humor.”

His father smirked. “You missed your mother’s cooking more.”

“Guilty,” Jungkook said, shoving a spoonful of stew into his mouth and letting out a quiet hum. “God, I forgot how good this tastes.”

His mother’s eyes softened at that sound. “Eat as much as you want, baby. You’ve fought enough; now let me fight the hunger for you.”

“Mom,” Jungkook groaned, a playful smile tugging at his lips, “you’re going to make me soft in front of Dad.”

His father folded his newspaper, shaking his head with an amused sigh. “Too late for that, soldier. You’re already melting.”

The three of them laughed quietly. For the first time in years, the Jeon household felt whole again—no gunfire, no coded messages, no fear of the next battle. Just family, food, and the comfort of being home.

★★★

Later that night, the house was silent. His parents had gone to bed, the dishes washed and the faint smell of dinner still hanging in the air.

Jungkook stood in the hallway, staring at a door he hadn’t opened in years, his old room.

He turned the knob slowly.

The faint creak echoed softly as he stepped inside. the moonlight slipping through the curtains.....the room looked clean , dust free... of course mom would have done this !

Everything was just as he’d left it, the small desk by the window, the punching bag hanging in the corner, the faded posters of fighter jets and training maps on the wall.

He exhaled deeply, running a hand over the wooden shelf lined with medals and certificates. Each one had a story, blood, sweat, and a piece of himself he could never get back.

On the desk sat a framed photo. His mother, father, and him, back when he was just a university student, smiling like the world hadn’t yet hardened him.

He picked it up, thumb brushing over his younger self’s face.

“You had no idea what was waiting for you, huh?”

His voice was low, almost like he was talking to a ghost.

He set the frame down and looked around. His uniform jacket hung over the chair, the scent of gunpowder still faintly clinging to it. The silence pressed against his chest, so different from the rhythmic chaos of the battlefield.

He sat on the edge of his bed, running his hand through his hair, feeling the ache settle in his bones now that the adrenaline was gone.

For the first time in months, he let himself breathe. Really breathe. No orders. No screams. No loss.

Only the faint hum of the city outside, the distant sound of a train passing, and home.

His phone buzzed. A message from Hoseok."Enjoying the peace, Major? Try not to miss us too much."

Jungkook chuckled softly, typing back with a faint smirk."Peace feels strange. Might need a war to sleep properly."

He tossed the phone aside and leaned back, eyes tracing the ceiling. The quiet wrapped around him like a blanket he wasn’t sure he deserved.

But tonight… he allowed himself to rest.

No weapons.

No uniform.

Just Jeon Jungkook.

The room was still. The faint hum of the ceiling fan was the only sound as Jungkook reached for the glass of water on his nightstand.

But the moment his hand brushed the edge, something toppled over and hit the floor with a soft thud.

He frowned, leaning down and froze.

A photo frame lay face down on the wooden floor, its glass catching the dim moonlight.

He picked it up, fingers tracing the familiar cracks on the frame. Slowly, he turned it over.

And everything inside him went still.

It was a photograph — an old one.

Him, years younger....around 20, grinning wide.

And beside him....a girl. Round cheeks, warm eyes, her laughter almost frozen mid-motion. She was clinging to his arm, face half-buried against his shoulder.

Across the bottom, written in messy handwriting with a black marker....

“My Girl!”

The air left his lungs.

For a moment, it wasn’t Busan anymore.

It wasn’t his childhood room or the quiet hum of safety.

It was the echo of that day.....her laughter, the scent of the rain, the promise of forever whispered in the chaos of youth.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched as he ran his thumb over her face.

The girl he’d buried deep beneath layers of discipline, duty, and distance.

He didn’t say her name at first.

The sound lodged in his throat, heavy and raw, a thing that belonged to another lifetime.

----

“Are you going to keep pretending I’m invisible,” he finally said, “or should I fake fainting so you’ll notice me?”

She sighed, closing her book halfway. “You already faked fainting last week because you didn’t want to attend P.E.”

He grinned, unashamed. “Worked though, didn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “What do you want this time, Jeon Jungkook?”

He pulled out a chair, sitting right across from her. “Help. Assignment. History. You know, the thing due tomorrow morning that I just remembered existed.”

Her pen paused midair. “You forgot again?”

“Not forgot. Selective memory,” he said, tilting his head playfully. “Come on, YN. You can’t say no to a soldier in training. It’s bad for morale.”

She bit her lip, trying not to laugh. “You’re not even enlisted yet.”

“Details,” he said, leaning closer, eyes glinting with mischief. “Please?”

She sighed, dramatic, exasperated, yet fond. “Fine. Pass me your notebook.”

He slid it across the table instantly, smile blooming. “You always give in so easily. Why is that?”

YN didn’t look up from the notebook as she began to write. “Because if I don’t help you, I know no one will.”

“Mm, that’s the reason?” he teased, leaning forward.

She nodded, pretending to focus, her voice steady. “Because no one can understand your doubts like I do.”

But her fingers had gone still, and she didn’t meet his eyes.And Jungkook saw it, the flicker of truth she tried to bury under her calm tone.

He smiled quietly, eyes softening as he whispered, almost to himself,“No, Sweetheart. It’s because you can’t say no to me.”

She froze, cheeks warming upon hearing that nickname again, finally looking up.“Don’t get too full of yourself,” she said, but her lips curved despite her best effort.

He grinned, satisfied.“Too late.”

-----

He sat on the edge of the bed, the photo of her still in his hand, thumb brushing over the curve of her smile.

“You said no one can understand me like you do…”His voice cracked into the quiet, low and bitter.

“Still you left me… without clearing the doubts I’m having about myself.”

He let out a shaky breath, eyes glinting under the dim lamp light.

“Why?”He whispered, the word barely leaving his lips.

“Why did you disappear like that… without a word, without a trace?”

A soft, humorless chuckle escaped him, one that hurt more than tears ever could.

The memories flooded back in vivid pieces.

The night before his enlistment...his heart pounding as he waited near the window, glancing at his watch every few minutes, waiting for her text.

He’d even told his mother that “someone special is coming tonight...for dinner!”

But YN never came.

The messages he sent went unread. The calls went unanswered.

And still, he’d waited...all through the night.

Even the next morning, at the railway station, his eyes kept searching the crowd.

Every girl who walked by made his chest tighten, every passing shadow a hope he refused to kill.

She never showed up.

And so, when the train started moving, he lo

oked out the window....one last time, praying she’d come running, like in those dramatic movies she always mocked.

But there was no YN. No explanation. No goodbye.

Only silence.

Now, years later, that silence still felt deafening.

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head as he muttered,

“Guess I was the only fool who believed we were forever.”

★★★