A car horn blared behind Y/N as her velocity increased out of a woolgathering. She corrected her focus to the road, and she took the gas, whizzing through the light which turned green at some indeterminable point in time. It has been four weeks since Jungkook found out who she was, and three weeks since she came back to Seoul.

 It was another day of spacing out at the worst possible times, her mind hostage to thoughts of him: how they had met in his pub, how fierce the passion between them had been, and, finally, how he had inflicted this cruel end. And she played back the memory of their lovemaking like reruns of her favorite TV series. But with every playback, it always ended up on the very same brutal scene—his fury, then with such confusion, anger, and agony in his voice as he slammed the door behind him.