Broken Queen| KTH

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟭𝟴

Taehyung

"I don't think it's supposed to look like that."

I ignored Jungkook's words as I picked up the instructions, holding a single screw that I had missed somehow. It was late in the evening, past time for me to go to bed, but I was fucking trying to put this crib together so I could surprise Y/n in the morning.

Sure, I could have paid someone to do it, but I wanted her to know I cared enough to put it together myself.

Even if it was about to be an epic fucking failure. Hell, I could wield a gun, take a man down with a single blow to his throat, but put together a crib? Mark a big fat X on that skill set.

"I need to take a picture of this," Jungkook continued as I checked the pre-screwed holes for a missing screw. "A Mafia, bested by a fucking crib."

I glared at him. "Why don't you help me so we can be done with it already?"

He leaned back against the wall, smirking. "How can I help you since you screwed it up? Just buy one already."

I sighed and threw the screw at the crib, blowing out a breath. "Fuck, man, I just wanted to do something for her."

"She will appreciate it all the same if there's one that's not questionable to put your child in," he responded, pulling out his cell. "I'll have one delivered quietly. She will never know the difference."

Jungkook was right. I wouldn't dare put my kid in that deathtrap I had built. "Fine, whatever. We aren't going to speak of this ever again."

He chuckled and I stared at the crib, drawing one of my legs up to rest my arm on my knee. I had really fucked it up with Y/n, letting her find out about Eun Jun before I had a chance to tell her. Everything had been going so damn well that I had let down my guard.

Shit happened when I let down my guard, forgot to be in charge all the time, and now my wife wouldn't speak to me.

Hell, she had forced me to sleep alone for the last five nights, avoiding me like the plague whenever it was daylight outside. If I didn't have the shit going on with the club, then I would be stir crazy to get her to even acknowledge me.

I had gotten used to a lot of things about my wife, like the way she wrinkled her nose when she was trying to think about something or her small snores whenever she fell asleep watching TV in bed. I had gotten used to her small sighs as I kissed my way down her body and the way she cried my name as I was pounding into her.

I missed Y/n.

"Just go to her, man."

I glanced over at Jungkook. "What?"

He rolled his eyes. "It's written all over your face how much you miss her. Just go to her, say you're sorry, that you will do fucking better on the next go around, and quit moping. It's fucking depressing."

Snorting, I pushed myself off the floor. "Since when did you become my fucking therapist?"

Jungkook arched a brow. "Since no one else will deal with your fucking ass. Seriously, I like Y/n. She's giving you brats left and right. The least you can do is attempt to see her side of things. She's scared, Taehyung. This world is new for her."

I shoved a hand through my hair, thinking how I was far too old to be dealing with these emotions raging within me. I was fucking scared, too, scared that I was going to lose it all, that the life I was carefully building with Y/n and our children wasn't going to stand up to the world that knew me as a don.

Yet I couldn't give up either. Y/n had begged me to consider the future of our children, but what kind of fucking future were they going to have always on the run? I had some serious enemies, enemies that didn't give a fuck that they were kids, and the moment I left this comfortable life, this existence, they all would be targets.