The sound of tires crunching against gravel filled the driveway as the taxi came to a stop in front of Siwon’s neat two-story home. It was a quiet neighborhood — families, trimmed lawns, the occasional child’s bicycle left by the curb. But inside that car was a man carrying both memories and fractures of a life long gone.

Jungkook stepped out slowly, a small suitcase in hand. He was still tall, broad-shouldered, but age and illness had softened him. His dark eyes darted about, searching for familiarity in a world that often felt foreign now. His once jet-black hair was peppered with gray, his jaw still stubbornly sharp even though time had stolen much of his vitality.

The front door swung open before he even rang the bell.

“Dad,” Siwon greeted warmly, stepping forward to take the suitcase. “Welcome home.”

“Home?” Jungkook repeated, voice distant. His brows furrowed as he looked past Siwon’s shoulder.

A little boy came barreling forward.

“Grandpa!” Minho shouted, wrapping his little arms around Jungkook’s waist.

The older man chuckled and patted his head gently. “Minho… my little soldier. You’ve grown so much.” His eyes softened, recognition clear.

So he remembered. Siwon sighed with relief — at least his son and he weren’t forgotten.

Then… she appeared.

Bare feet padded softly on the wooden floor as Taehyung came down the stairs. Her white tank top clung to her, the thin straps barely holding against the swell of her breasts. A pair of tiny shorts revealed the curve of her thighs and ass with every step. She looked more like a sin than a daughter waiting to greet her father.

Jungkook’s breath caught. His eyes widened, trembling on the edge of disbelief.

“…Taeri?” he whispered.

Tae froze at the foot of the stairs. She had expected this — Siwon warned her on the phone that her father often confused her with her mother. Still, hearing it firsthand sent a strange chill through her body.

“No, Dad,” she said softly, though her tone wasn’t firm. “It’s me… Taehyung. Your daughter.”

But Jungkook shook his head, staring at her as if he’d seen a ghost. “Taeri. My wife. My Tae.” His voice broke, raw with longing. “You… you look the same. The same as the night you wore that shirt…”

Siwon cleared his throat uncomfortably, stepping between them. “Dad, this is Taehyung, not Taeri. Remember?”

Jungkook’s eyes flickered with confusion. For a moment, clarity seemed to return — but then Tae tucked her hair behind her ear, and the way the light caught her pink lips and pale skin made his chest ache with old memories.

“She… she dressed like this too,” Jungkook murmured, voice shaking. “Always teasing me… never letting me rest.”

“Dad,” Tae said again, gently. But this time her cheeks flushed pink. She glanced at Siwon, who looked strained, then down at Minho, who was tugging at her leg, oblivious.

Dinner that night was strange. Jungkook remembered Siwon’s favorite dishes, even helped Minho with his rice, telling him little stories from when he was young. But every time his gaze drifted to Tae, his fork would pause. His lips would part as though he were about to call her something forbidden.

“Taeri…” he whispered once, under his breath, when she bent over the table to pour him soup.

Siwon clenched his jaw. He wanted to correct him again, but Tae simply smiled awkwardly and kept serving.

And later, when she stood in the hallway in her silk nightgown — thin straps, deep neckline, the fabric nearly see-through — Jungkook stopped in his tracks, suitcase in hand.

“You’re… even more beautiful than before,” he whispered hoarsely.

Tae’s heart skipped. She should’ve corrected him, should’ve reminded him who she was. But instead she froze, heat crawling up her neck. Her mother had always been called the most beautiful woman in any room. And Tae… had inherited everything.

Behind her, Siwon called, “Dad, your room’s this way.”

But Jungkook didn’t move. His eyes lingered on her body like a man staring at his long-lost love. And Tae, biting her lip, suddenly wondered — if he couldn’t tell the difference, if he saw her only as Taeri… was it wrong that a part of her didn’t mind?