"The Love That Waited"
1
The morning sun poured like warm honey over the Kim Kingdom, gilding the castle spires and the rooftops of the capital in gold. Spring had arrived, not just in season, but in spirit. A year had passed since Queen Tae had taken the throne. A year since she had looked Jungkook in the eyes and asked for freedom not from him, but from the past they once shared.
She had not seen him since that night.
But he had never truly left.
The kingdom flourished beneath her rule.
Wounds were healed, homes rebuilt, and where fear had once lived, hope had taken root. The people no longer whispered of rebellion or survival - they spoke of growth, of the future.
Tae had become not just a ruler, but a symbol. A woman who had clawed her way from exile to empire, whose quiet strength commanded nations without raising her voice.
But even as the world bloomed under her reign - her heart, sometimes, felt like winter still lingered.
Outside Tae's chamber stood the small blossoming tree - the one Jungkook had planted in silence the night they ended their love. That tree, once a bare sprig in a cracked ceramic pot, now stood taller, its branches stretched toward the sky, covered in pale petals that trembled in the wind like breath.
It was the first thing Tae saw every morning.
The petals reminded her of memories – of the softest kind of love, the kind that doesn't burn but lingers. She didn't water the tree. She didn't have to.
It had grown on its own or perhaps someone else had been tending to it all along.
The royal court pulsed with life. Yoongi and Jimin had married beneath the olive trees in the palace garden, their hands bound with gold-threaded ribbon, eyes soft and full of peace.
Yoona and Hoseok would be wed next month, their names already etched into the hearts of the people. Hoseok's clinic, once a single-room haven, now stretched across three buildings a sanctuary for the ill, the broken, and the lost. Yoona trained women in the old barracks, teaching them to fight and speak, to lead and listen.
Tae had made sure their names would be remembered not just in palace records, but in the stones of the streets, in the lives they changed.
And yet... with every celebration, a piece of her heart remained still.
There was one name never spoken aloud.
Tae fell sick that winter a fever that stole her strength and left her drifting in and out of sleep for three nights. But when she awoke, someone had always been there.
Not a guard. Not a healer.
Someone else.
Her blankets would be tucked higher. The basin beside her would be fresh, the water still cool. Her medicine measured just right – the exact way she preferred it.
And though she tried to stay awake, to catch whoever cared for her so silently, her eyes would always fail her.
But the scent lingered.
That familiar blend of sandalwood and storm Jungkook's scent. It filled the corners of her room at night, as if he had just been there. As if he had never left.
She tried to convince herself it was imagination. Memory playing tricks. But deep down, she knew.
He was still watching. Still protecting. Always just beyond the edge of light.
The blossom tree outside her window bloomed again that spring - fuller than ever before.
Tae stood before it one morning, hair loose over her shoulders, her royal robes traded for something simpler. The petals danced like snowflakes in the breeze. One floated through the window and landed in her hand, soft and trembling.
She closed her fingers gently around it.
So much had changed. And yet... not everything.
A whisper escaped her lips, too quiet for anyone else to hear.
kim taehyung ( tae)
Jungkook...
Her voice didn't crack. It didn't tremble. But it ached.
She hadn't seen him in a year not truly. And yet, her body still remembered him. Her heart still knew his shape. But she also knew what she had asked of him. What she had chosen.
And so had he.
But as the wind kissed her face and stirred the curtains, Tae swore she felt something in the silence.
A promise still kept.
A love still living - quietly. Patiently. And as she turned back to her room, the blossom tree trembled gently... as if it, too, had been waiting.
should I continue it delete it
2
The night cloaked the Kim Kingdom in stillness, but for Jungkook, sleep had long since become a stranger.
He sat in the same spot he always did — a quiet chair in the far corner of Tae’s chamber, half-shielded by the curtains. The moonlight spilled through the window, casting a soft glow over her resting form. She slept deeply, her face finally at peace after days of tireless ruling. The slight rise and fall of her chest, the way her fingers curled gently near her face — he memorized it all every night.
She never saw him there
But he was always watching, always guarding, always loving — from a distance.
Tae had been sick again. The stress, the late nights, the kingdom's endless demands… they wore her down, even if she never showed it to the world. But Jungkook saw. He always saw.
He had been the one to wipe the sweat from her brow, to change the cold cloth on her forehead when the fever had risen. He had held her hand as she trembled in her sleep, whispering silent promises even though she couldn’t hear them.
jungkook
I’m here. You’re never alone.
And when the morning came, before the light returned to the sky, he would be gone — slipping away before she woke, leaving only a lingering trace of sandalwood and spring blossoms in the air.
---
Jungkook didn’t need the title of husband anymore. He didn’t need a label or a crown. He didn’t even need her love in return.
All he needed was to protect her.
That was enough.
---
When word reached him that someone had tried to undermine her authority in court — a noble who spread lies, whispered threats — Jungkook didn’t hesitate. In the shadows of the alley behind the palace, that noble learned why Tae Kim didn’t need an army at her back.
She had him.
Jungkook never told her. She never asked. But somehow, he knew she suspected. Tae always had that quiet awareness about her, that knowing look in her eyes. Still, she never brought it up. And he never asked for thanks.
He spent his days among the people now — walking the markets, fixing broken walls, helping farmers lift their heavy loads. To them, he was just a nameless guardian, a shadow of the Queen’s former past. But to Tae, he hoped… he was still something more.
The blossoming tree he had planted beneath her window had bloomed again this spring. He’d seen it, the pink petals dancing in the wind, and felt something twist in his chest.
A quiet hope.
A stubborn ache.
A love that refused to die.
---
He didn’t regret letting her go. She had made her choice, and he had respected it. That was what love looked like now — not holding, not possessing… just being there, silently.
Even if she never looked at him again.
Even if she loved someone else one day.
Even if she forgot what they once had.
He would still be there.
---
That night, as she stirred in her sleep, her lips barely parted. And through the quiet, like a prayer half-lost in the wind, he heard it.
kim taehyung ( tae)
Jungkook…
His name. Soft. Uncertain. But real.
He didn’t move. Didn’t answer. Just sat there, hand clenched to keep from reaching out.
Because sometimes love wasn’t about being seen.
Sometimes, it was about staying when no one asked you to.
About keeping a vow you never said aloud.
---
And Jungkook did.
Every night.
Every hour.
Every breath.
Still hers.
Always hers.
---
3
The streets of Kim Kingdom buzzed under the soft golden light of lanterns, their glow swaying with the night breeze. Tae had covered her face with a sheer scarf, her royal robes replaced with a plain linen tunic and deep brown cloak. She moved through the market alone, silently, unnoticed — just the way she wanted it.
She needed to see.
Not from a throne, not through reports or polished words, but through her people’s laughter, their voices, their lives. She wanted to know if they were happy. If she was truly building a kingdom worth the price they had all paid.
The scent of roasted chestnuts, fresh herbs, and night blossoms mixed in the air. Children ran past her feet. Couples shared warm food and soft glances. Laughter rose like music.
kim taehyung ( tae)
💭this is what I fought for.
But then—
A crowd burst from one of the nearby taverns, spilling into the market street with drunken joy and chaos. Tae tried to step back, but the sudden motion of bodies caught her in a wave she couldn’t control.
She stumbled.
Feet tangled, balance lost—until her hands collided with a warm, solid chest.
Her breath caught.
A hand reached out instantly, steadying her, fingers brushing her face gently. Her scarf had slipped just enough to expose the edge of her cheek, and a lock of hair had fallen forward.
The man’s fingers — calloused but careful — tucked it behind her ear with a gentleness that froze her.
And then... she smelled it.
That familiar scent.
Sandalwood. Ink. Blossoms. The scent that lived in her chambers long after someone had left.
Her heart stilled.
kim taehyung ( tae)
💭Jungkook.
Her eyes darted up, wide and searching — but the man was already gone.
Gone like mist.
She turned frantically, eyes scanning every shadow, every alley, every lantern-lit corner. But he wasn’t there. As if he had never been.
Only the echo of his touch remained. And that scent. That aching, lingering scent.
He didn’t expect to see her.
He had just returned from the eastern village, where he’d helped rebuild a crumbled wall and left quietly before anyone could thank him. That had become his routine. Serve. Protect. Leave. Stay in the background.
But fate had a cruel sense of timing.
He turned the corner of the lantern-lit street and suddenly—there she was.
Disguised, cloaked, moving like a shadow through her own kingdom. He knew it instantly — the shape of her shoulders, the weight in her steps, the quiet grace in her stillness. Even in the crowd, he could feel her like a pull in his chest.
He barely had time to move before the crowd surged, shoving her into him.
And then—
She was in his arms.
Even if just for seconds.
He didn’t say a word. He didn’t dare.
But his fingers lifted, almost without thought, brushing the hair from her face like he had done so many times before. And when he saw her eyes—those eyes that once looked at him like he was her world—it nearly broke him.
He let the moment pass. He let it die.
Because he couldn’t stay.
He slipped into the crowd before she could speak, before she could look closer. But his heart—
His heart was still there.
Still in her hands.
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