Inside her own silent house, she collapsed against the locked door. Shame curdled in her stomach, sharp and acidic. Yet… beneath it, a treacherous warmth lingered in her core—a raw, physical satisfaction she couldn't deny. She replayed the brutal force, the vulgar commands… her own traitorous cries. Tears stung her eyes. She hated him. She hated herself more.

Hours crawled by. The afternoon sun cast long shadows. A soft knock startled her. She opened the door. Jungkook stood there, backpack slung over one shoulder, cheeks flushed from rushing. His eyes lit up seeing her in his hoodie. Without a word, he stepped inside, kicked the door shut, and pulled her fiercely into his arms. His kiss was deep and hungry, pouring days worth of shy longing into it. Tae melted instantly, clinging to him, the scent of his skin washing over her—clean soap, warm boy. A balm against the filth.