You and Jungkook were born just five days apart, two squirming bundles delivered into the world by two women who had been best friends since university. Sofia—your mother—was the quiet, grounded one with a book always in hand and plans scribbled in neat little planners. Minji—his mother—was fire and laughter, the kind of woman who danced in kitchens and never backed down from a dare. When they discovered they were pregnant within a week of each other, they called it fate.

So you and Jungkook were born not as strangers who might one day meet—but as inevitabilities. You took your first steps on the same living room floor, babbled your first words into the same air, and threw tantrums in matching overalls with mashed peas on your faces.

From the start, you were the calm one—a quiet observer, cautious with the world. As a child, you'd sit cross-legged with storybooks while other kids ate dirt. You liked puzzles, quiet corners, and building towers just to gently take them apart again. Even as a toddler, you noticed things others missed—the way wind shifted before storms, sadness hiding in smiles. Jungkook always said you had an "old soul," usually with a teasing grin and a flick to your forehead.

Jungkook? He was a storm in sneakers. Born with a wild grin and mischief in his veins, he was always running—toward danger, toward laughter, toward the next thrill. He once jumped off the garage roof with a bedsheet tied around his neck, swearing he'd fly like Superman. He broke his arm instead, and you cried harder than he did. He had a talent for finding trouble and a mouth that never knew when to stay shut.

Yet you were inseparable. Kindergarten brought pigtail-pulling followed by crayon-sharing. Second grade saw him fighting a boy twice his size who called you "boring." Middle school meant late-night window visits for ghost stories when you couldn't sleep. Wherever he went, you were his steady presence—the voice of reason pulling him back from edges. And he was your spark in a quiet world—dragging you into muddy fields, convincing you to climb too-tall trees, teaching you to laugh from your belly and run without looking back.

Your families joked about weddings, about how it was "meant to be"—but it was all just teasing. Harmless, right? Except you never laughed at those jokes. Not really. Not when you realized around thirteen that Jungkook had dimples you couldn't stop staring at, that his voice was changing, that your heart skipped when he said your name a certain way. That the reason you never felt anything for anyone else... was because you were already his.

He never noticed. Too busy charming hallways, too busy with crooked smiles and lazy confidence, kissing girls whose names he didn't bother remembering. And still, you stayed. At his side. Quiet. Constant. In love.