Content Warning:
This chapter contains harsh words, family conflict, and physical discipline.If you are sensitive to such scenes, please skip this chapter.
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Jimin's POV
I took my bag and left the school quietly.I didn't understand the sudden change in me.Something inside my chest felt heavy… painful.
Why was I so upset?
Was it the kiss?
Was I in love with her?
Or… was I jealous of both of them?
I honestly didn't know.
I kept driving, lost in my thoughts, until....
Bang.
I hit someone.
I quickly stepped out of the car, my heart racing.
"I'm so sorry," I said, bowing again and again.
The man wore a suit. He looked rich… or maybe he really was.
He stared at me silently, then handed me an envelope.
"I'll be expecting you," he said calmly, then walked away.
I nodded without understanding and drove off.
Thank goodness he wasn't angry.
When I got home, I went straight to the bathroom.
I turned on the cold shower, hoping it would wash away whatever was wrong with me.
After bathing, I wrapped a towel around my waist and opened my bag.
That's when I saw the envelope.
My hands trembled as I opened it.
My heart stopped.
It was my dream.
The dream I had buried for years.
They wanted me to be a trainee.
To join a group called BTS… as a vocalist.
That evening, I waited for my father to come home.
My mom came downstairs and called everyone for dinner.
My sister went straight to her room and didn't come out.
Only my parents and I sat at the dining table.
"Jimin, come sit," my mom said.
That was why I hated eating with them.
My father suddenly spoke.
"What do you want?" he asked coldly.
I swallowed.
"Uhm… Dad, I want to become a trainee at BigHit Entertainment. I want to be a vocalist in BTS....."
Before I could finish
Slap.
My face burned.
"You stupid punk!" he shouted.
"We should never have given birth to you. The moment I saw you, I should have known you were useless. How can my only son want to be a singer? What about engineering? What about my company you're supposed to take over?"
My hands shook. I dropped my
chopsticks.
"You have a daughter," I said quietly.
Slap.
"Look at Yoongi!" he yelled, standing up.
"Do you see his academic record? Top of the class! And you? You score six and still dare say you want to be a singer? No K‑pop idol is allowed in my house!"
"You never let me choose," I said, my voice breaking.
"Choose?" he laughed bitterly.
"You have everything other kids beg for, and you still talk about being an idol? The moment you think of becoming one, you are no longer Park Jimin. You're just Jimin."
He walked away.s
"Darling…" my mom whispered softly, standing there helpless.
I sat frozen at the table, my dream still burning… and breaking inside me.
I