Still in flashback:
The days passed in a blur. Jimin did his best to keep up appearances, attending school, completing his assignments, and pretending everything was fine when he was with his mom. But inside, everything was falling apart. His mother's health was slowly getting worse, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fix it.
At first, it was just little things. She was more tired than usual, a little quieter, but Jimin attributed it to the stress of everything going on. But over the past few days, it became clear: his mom was barely eating. Her appetite had diminished to nothing, and when she did try to eat, she'd push the food around her plate, as if she couldn't bring herself to swallow it.
One afternoon, Jimin sat next to her at the kitchen table, watching her absently stir her tea, her gaze distant. His mom had lost weight in the past week, and the sadness in her eyes was growing harder to ignore.
"Mom," Jimin said quietly, trying to sound casual, "you should eat something. You haven't had a proper meal in days."
She smiled softly but didn't meet his eyes. "I'm just not hungry, Jimin. I'm fine, really."
Jimin wasn't convinced. He watched her push her food around, her movements slower, more deliberate. He could see the weight of her thoughts, the worries clouding her once-vibrant eyes.
Trying to comfort her, he hesitated, then said, "The woman in the pictures… she must be some employee from Dad's company. Right? I mean… it could just be nothing."
His mother's face faltered for a second, a flicker of pain crossing her features, but then she smiled weakly, brushing the thought aside. "Yes, probably. Just someone from work."
That night, after she had gone to bed, Jimin sat by the window, staring out into the darkness. His mind raced. He couldn't keep lying to her. He couldn't pretend that everything was okay. He had to do something—he couldn't stand watching her wither away any longer.
§∆§
Tuesday afternoon, as Jimin was coming home from school, he noticed a package sitting on the front doorstep. He picked it up, recognizing the familiar handwriting on the label. It was from his father.
His heart pounded as he entered the house. His mother was sitting in the living room, flipping through a magazine, her face unreadable.
"Mom," Jimin said, his voice shaking. "There's a package for you."
His mother glanced up, a faint smile on her face. But it didn't reach her eyes. "A package? From who?"
"It's from Dad," Jimin said, his voice tight. "I think it's for you."
She froze at the mention of his father's name. Her hand, which had been holding the magazine, faltered, and she looked at the package in silence. Jimin could see the hesitance in her eyes, the unspoken dread of what might be inside.
She stood up slowly, her face pale, and took the package from him. She didn't say anything as she carefully opened it, pulling out a letter and a folded piece of paper.
Jimin watched her hands tremble as she unfolded the letter. She read the contents in silence, her face a mask of emotion. The letter was short, to the point. It was clear his father had no intention of trying to fix things. He didn't apologize. He didn't even try to explain himself.
The divorce papers lay there, a final blow to everything she had believed in. There were no explanations. Just a cold, legal document that ended twenty years of marriage.
Jimin felt like the ground beneath him was shaking. His mother didn't make a sound. She didn't cry. She just stared at the papers, her face drained of color, her expression frozen in a kind of shock that Jimin couldn't quite understand.
And then, without a word, she collapsed onto the couch, the papers falling from her hands. The letter fluttered to the floor.
Jimin's heart dropped into his stomach as he rushed to her side. "Mom? Are you okay?"
She didn't respond at first. She just stared ahead, her eyes distant. Jimin could feel the weight of her heartbreak in the air, thick and suffocating.
"Mom, please..." Jimin whispered, his voice trembling. "Talk to me."
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke, her voice barely audible. "It's over, Jimin. Everything's over."
Her words were a soft whisper, but they carried the weight of everything she had been hiding. Her tears fell silently as she let herself break for the first time in front of her son.
Her Breaking Point:
In the days that followed, Jimin's mother tried her best to hide her pain. She went through the motions, pretending that she could handle everything. But Jimin could see through the facade. Her health, which had started to improve, began to deteriorate again. She stopped eating properly. She stopped smiling. She stopped caring about anything at all.
Jimin did everything he could to take care of her. He made meals, kept the house clean, and tried to cheer her up with little jokes. But his attempts were futile. His mother was beyond his reach now. She was trapped in a prison of her own grief and despair, and nothing Jimin could do would free her from it.
The days turned into weeks, and the distance between them grew. One night, after a particularly quiet dinner, Jimin found his mother sitting in her room, staring out of the window.
"Mom, please... we can get through this," Jimin pleaded, standing in the doorway.
She didn't turn to face him. She didn't even acknowledge his presence.
"I'm sorry, Jimin," she whispered, her voice broken. "I've tried, but I can't anymore. I've lost everything. The man I loved... the family I tried so hard to build... it's all gone."
Her words hit Jimin like a punch to the gut. He didn't know what to say, how to make her feel better. He had never felt so powerless in his life.
§∆§
A few days later, Jimin woke up and go to his mom room, only to find his mother lying in her bed, motionless. Her breathing was shallow, her face pale. Panic surged through him as he rushed to her side, shaking her gently.
"Mom? Mom, wake up!" he shouted, his voice cracking.
But she didn't respond.
Jimin's hands trembled as he grabbed his phone and dialed emergency services, but deep down, he knew it was too late. His mother had already given up on life, unable to carry the weight of her broken heart any longer.
By the time the paramedics arrived, it was too late. Jimin's mother had passed away in her sleep, her heart finally giving out from the emotional pain and exhaustion.
Her death was a quiet one. She had slipped away, in the silence of the night, surrounded by her grief.
Jimin was left standing in the middle of the room, his world shattered. The mother he had always known was gone. The warmth of her love, the strength that had held their family together, had vanished, leaving nothing but emptiness in its place.
A Broken Family:
Jimin's life was never the same after that. His father remained absent, and the emptiness left behind by his mother's death was too much to bear. Jimin spent his days in a haze, trying to understand what had happened, but the questions remained unanswered. His mother had been his everything, and now she was gone.
But in the silence of his grief, Jimin understood one thing: sometimes, even the strongest hearts break, and there is no healing from that kind of loss.
The death of his mother marked the end of his childhood, the end of the life he had known, and the beginning of a new, lonely chapter of his life.