The Gift

Chapter 1: It's Not A Mannequin

Dragging your cold body through the snow is a usual occurrence, but it doesn't make walking through the cold January night any easier. You need to sell your father's farm, you know that, but you're having a hard time letting go of the old place because it feels like letting go of the memories. It's sad, sometimes debilitating, but Dad would want you to move on and make new memories. Not the easiest thing to do when you're in the middle of nowhere on the acres of land you inherited when the old man died. Not like available men fall from the sky to fall in love with you.

You're on the way back from the stables and feeding the horses when you see it... a mannequin. How did it get here? In the middle of your property when there is nothing and no one around. Moving closer to it, you hear Ashley and Britt from your favorite podcast CRIME JUNKIE warn, "it's never a mannequin." And it's not. It's a body!

"Holy shit, Holy shit," you say to yourself looking around for clues that you and the body are alone, or... not alone. There's only one set of footsteps in the snow and they end at the body, so he seemingly dragged himself onto your property.

You let out a sigh of relief when you're sure you're alone. Then you remember it... him... The dead body. Pulling off your gloves, you go into your pocket to grab your phone and call 911 when you hear it... the body groans. Looking down in surprise you see that the groans come from the man who is very much alive.

Rushing over to help, you drop to your knees and feel his pulse. It's strong, thrumming against his neck with the evidence that he's more alive than you realized. Not dead and maybe not even dying.

"Sir--" the words die in your throat as you recognize him...but it can't be... he looks like Kim Taehyung from BTS.

The man groans again and without much thought, you spring into action. Lifting the man's unconscious body from the snow, you pull him onto your back and lift with all your might, wrapping his arms around your neck and carrying him to your farmhouse. It's insane, but you don't want to question this... gift. Fate, or God or something left the thing you've always wanted most at your front door.

Walking through feet of snow with the man's dead weight on your back is hell, but you push through the pain and discomfort as you walk up the front porch to your house and kick open the front door, pleased that you didn't bother locking it. Your house is large but all one story, a ranch house with three guest rooms and a master bedroom on one level, so you walk right past the living room straight for your bedroom and dump your unconscious visitor on your bed.

It's now that you examine him; talking off his wet clothes and boots, searching his body for injuries, but finding only a six-pack of abs, a perfectly toned body, and a perfect face. It's impossible but... he does look like Taehyung with his dark hair, handsome features and toned body... like his body is the evidence of his life performing Dionysus dance breaks.

You wrap him in your covers, put a heating pad on beneath the sheets and hang his wet coat in your closet and throw his wet clothes in the dryer. When your tasks are done you start to hyperventilate. What are you doing? You're a woman alone on acres of land so you put a stranger in your bed? He's not a stranger. Not really. He's V! Who you watched grow up, gain confidence and take over the entire world.

But what's he doing here on your property? In your world. He didn't seem to have any injuries, his body wasn't frostbitten or malnourished. What could have led him here? To bumbafuck nowhere. He's an international superstar and somehow just walked on to your property? On his own? In layers of snow packed on snow?

You decide it's not all self-serving. Keeping Taehyung here with you and not calling 911. He's world famous! Calling the police will bring the media and god knows who else. You don't know what's going on but the idea he suddenly went on a walk in this weather is not possible. You were only out there because you have animals who rely on you for food. No one would just be out and about on an evening stroll. However he got here... there's probably an element of danger. You rush around the house, locking your windows and doors when you see that it's snowing again. The snow will probably cover your footsteps and perhaps any proof that Taehyung was ever there.

House as secure as it's going to be, you go back to check on your guest to find him awake. More than awake, he's sitting up, and looking around in confusion.

"You're up!" You say entering the room with a smile. "I was worried that I should call an ambulance but the roads are so messy, I'm not sure they'd get through."

"Ambulance?" He asks, his English heavily accented, announcing it as not his first language.

Another check toward the theory he's V.

"I found you knocked out on the front lawn," you tell him. "Don't you remember?"

He shakes his head no.

"The roads are bad, so unfortunately we'll have to stay locked up here for a few days," you tell him.

"Why?" He asks.

"Because we're in a bit of a blizzard, honestly."

He shakes his head, "no. Why are you helping me?"

"Why wouldn't I help you?"

"Because I'm a stranger," he says.

"Not to me you're not," and he isn't. He's Kim Taehyung from South Korea who has a cute dog named Tannie, a best friend named Jimin and the voice of a fallen Angel.

"Oh..." he says slowly, his mind is still struggling to catch up to his current circumstances and you get it, what a surreal situation. "Then maybe I'm just a stranger to myself."

"What?" you ask not following.

"I don't remember... anything," he says.

"But you're speaking English when Korean is your first language! You have to remember some stuff."

He shakes his head. And stares at you. "Who am I?" He asks.

"Kim Taehyung, a singer from South Korea," you tell him.

The name visibly hits him and you know that he must recognize it as right. That he knows his name is Taehyung and South Korea being his home must mean something to him.

"And who are you?" He asks.

You don't know why you say it. You know it's crazy. You know that it's impossible to prove, but you say it anyway...

"Your wife."