PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AFTER THE BOOK OF KNOWLEDGE. CONTAINS SOME INFO THAT MIGHT CLEAR UP CONFUSION.

Hana

Chanyeol shifts, looking away from me, and I sniff while getting up from the chair. The unease on his face is clear, and it clenches at my heart.

This is why I didn’t want him getting involved. He would get caught up in the crossfire, and now his legs were the cost he had to pay on my behalf. And because of that, my guilt got worse with every heartbeat.

“They’re going to try therapy,” Chanyeol mutters under his breath. “They said it might work.”

And as much as I didn’t want to ask, I knew I had to, “What did Yoongi say about your time in the hospital?”

At that question, Chanyeol looks a lot brighter. “He says he’ll get someone to take over for it, but that means that you don’t have an ear on the inside.”

“What matters is that you’re okay.”

Chanyeol falls silent again. For someone who was good at putting off a good vibe, it meant that he had a way of dealing with people without the focus on him. Now that I was staring him down at his bedside, he couldn’t say the same. And regardless, he had known me long enough to drop the cover.

“You should contact Kyungsoo,” His eyes flicker to mine. “Usually he reported to me, but Kyungsoo is reliable.”

“We’ve met.” I twist my mouth. I didn’t want to risk anyone else getting hurt, and as usual, Chanyeol picked up on that.

“Kyungsoo is more careful than me, and he doesn’t have a target on his back since Kim Taehyung’s security is so high,” Chanyeol urges. “You need an inside eye without me there.”

He pats my hand out of reassurance, and my shoulders slump because I knew Chanyeol was right. But to be honest, having an ear in Yoongi’s company held a higher significance, but Chanyeol and his health come before that.

“You look frustrated,” Chanyeol hums.

“It’s not you, I promise,” I sigh with a wry smile. “Jungkook only gave me a few minutes before we have to meet up with our parents.”

“Is he good for you, Hana?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that,” Chanyeol arches an eyebrow, his lips lifting up in his signature smile. “Is he good for you?”

I should say yes, because Jungkook looks after me and I think he genuinely does care as a friend, but I couldn’t necessarily say I was happy. I would say yes to Chanyeol’s question, but this was Chanyeol so I wouldn’t lie, “I don’t know.”

He just nods before checking the time, “Think about that. And your time is almost up.”

His words make my nose twitch with displeasure, “You make it sound like Jungkook is my keeper.”

“Your words, not mine,” He winks as I get up. “Stay safe.”

I turn in the doorway, voice soft, “You too, Chanyeol.”

His smile vanishes behind the closed door, and I scan the hallway to make sure that no one saw me come out of the hospital room. My feet trace the way outside as I dial Kyungsoo’s number, sighing as he doesn’t pick up.

I really didn’t want to rely on him. It was safer not to. But I would just have to see for myself how capable Kyungsoo was.

A car rolls up, and I get in, slamming the door behind me. Before I can say anything, Jungkook grips the wheel tightly, “You’re late.”

“By a few minutes,” I frown at him. He seems irritated for some reason, and I couldn’t tell why.

He sighs, switching the gears to drive, “My mother likes punctuality.”

“Me checking up on Chanyeol’s health matters more to me than your mother’s feelings, Jungkook.” As harsh as that sounded, it was true. If I had someone to impress, Jungkook’s mother wasn’t the person of choice. “I still can’t tell if she likes me, and it’s been years.”

“Why do you care?” His brusque tone rubs me the wrong way.

“She’s my senior.”

“Then why weren’t you on time?”

My eyes narrow. Despite him watching me while I was injured, I almost felt like I was being talked down to, which was something that I really didn’t appreciate. And I was nearing the end of my rope. “Because Chanyeol got injured and nearly died on my behalf.”

“He put himself in that position.”

I snarl back, “You think he knew that his legs and his own life would have been at stake? Since when have you been so heartless to our own side?”

“He chose to be our spy!”

“He didn’t choose to nearly die!”

“He did it for you!” Jungkook yells back, furious. “Don’t you get it? You naturally inspire loyalty because people love you!”

I fall quiet, and I can’t help it, but tears prick at my eyes, “I didn’t want him to get hurt for me.”

“Hana?” His voice softens, “Are you crying?”

“No.” I lie as I wipe the corner of my eyes, but I can’t help it. I had been thinking that it was my fault for Chanyeol getting hurt for so long, that the dam finally burst. The car brakes at the stoplight, and Jungkook turns toward me.

“Hana, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’ve been carrying the guilt of what happened to Chanyeol for weeks,” I sniffle, curling away from Jungkook’s hand that’s trying reach my cheek in an attempt that I can only guess is to wipe my tears. He gives up, his face darkening, as the embarrassment of crying gets worse. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t want to talk about it,” He repeats slowly, gripping the wheel harder. “You never want to talk about it. I’m supposed to be your fiancé and all you do is run around by yourself.”

“But you’re not. And if you expected anything else from someone as independent as me, then Jungkook, I don’t think you ever knew me.” The words are heavy and I can tell it makes him even more mad. He clenches his jaw as he steers toward the restaurant that his parents picked out. It looked fancy, and my ankle cast made me feel out of place, even though I was wearing a dress and a long peacoat.

Jungkook attempts to curl an arm around me, to show what a happy couple we are, but I’m not in the mood. I sidestep, shaking off his arm and I walk into the restaurant with him just a step behind. Our parents smile at us, and I fall back into my role of a business woman, face brightening and my lips curving into a smile.

It was a stupid act.

“Good to see my daughter finally showed up,” My dad says, looking a little unamused. “She was probably running late.”

“She was,” Jungkook breezily replies, and to add insult to injury, he grins, eyes crinkling up in the corners.

“Oh, you know how I hate it when people are late,” Jungkook’s mother adds, looking through the menus that were already set at our table while sipping her white wine.

“I was working.” As much as I would like to snap at the elders in front of me, I know better. So my tone stays dismissive and airy as I flip through the menu myself, uninterested in staying on topic.

“When you two are married, you’re going to have to drag her away from work all the time,” Jungkook’s dad smiles warmly. Jungkook’s dad was the opposite of the business man you’d expect. He was warm, amicable, and Jungkook did get some of his manipulation techniques from his dad.

But why did he say, ‘When we were married?’ Our table is alone and away, and even though there could be bugs put on the table, it was highly unlikely since we didn’t come to the restaurant on a regular basis.

“I’m already getting used to it,” Jungkook covers my hand and squeezes it, and then retracts it immediately as if he knows that I was not in the mood. “She’ll learn to balance it, eventually.”

I say nothing, more interested in the menu. The waiter comes by, asking for orders, and I’m about to say duck over a medley of vegetables, and Jungkook cuts in.

“And she’ll take the ahi tuna salad.”

The waiter smiles with a light bow, and out of shock, I don’t say anything. I don’t even bother looking at Jungkook, and I just take a long, long sip of water. I could speak for myself, read for myself, and order for myself. I had just snapped at Jungkook about how independent I was, and he didn’t seem to get it.

But I won’t make a scene about it, especially not in front of his parents.

“It’s her favorite,” Jungkook smiles at me, making me lift an eyebrow. It just happened that I got tuna often at the restaurant that we frequented, but that was mainly because they didn’t have duck. Although considerate that he was trying, something about the situation unsettled me.

Since when did Jungkook like having so much control over other people? Maybe I had noticed too late, but ushering me everywhere, pointing out the time in the car, wanting to know where I was all the time, and even ordering for me? I’d understand for a client, but I wasn’t his client. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to be caring and failing, or something else was going on.

That wasn’t the Jungkook that I knew.

“A good, healthy choice. Goodness knows that we both could probably use it,” Jungkook’s mother hums with a smile that suddenly felt a little double-edged.

“I’m glad you finally started eating healthier,” My dad jumps in. “If you ate the way you did in college, you would be fat by now.”

But I could hear what was behind his words. I had to stay at peak attractiveness in order to be successful in business. I had heard those same words over and over and over as a teenager before Jimin had redone my entire closet.

I murmur, tipping my water glass slightly in acknowledgement, “I appreciate everyone’s concern for my health.”

Maybe I was being a little more defensive than usual, so I breathe, letting some of the strain roll off my shoulders. It was no secret that Jimin and I ate like trash in college, mainly because that was the first time we could. We had been sheltered and our parents only fed us healthy food. Our metabolism was also at an all-time high, so none of it stuck to our bodies, and although Jimin’s parents had laughed it off, my dad had been furious. Not because I was ruining my health, but because I wouldn’t look as good.

It took me a long time to understand that I wasn’t his object. Maybe after Mom had died, I was the one part of his life that he had control over. He loved her with all of his heart, and things had changed after she died. He grew sterner, more con