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Jimin blinked when the door to the restroom swung open again, revealing a sharply dressed man in a black suit, earpiece tucked neatly against his temple.

“Sir,” the man said, slightly confused as he caught sight of Jungkook standing close to a hotel cleaner. “Everyone’s waiting for you in the ballroom. The host just announced the dance—you need to make an appearance.”

Jungkook stood tall, calm and composed. “I’ll be there.”

The man hesitated, glancing at Jimin with a flicker of curiosity. “Should I tell them you’re with someone or...?”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened—but not in anger. With quiet pride, he gently turned to face his manager, hand still lightly brushing against Jimin’s sleeve.

“He’s my fiancé,” Jungkook said, clearly, confidently.

The manager's eyes widened ever so slightly before bowing politely. “Understood, sir. I’ll let them know.”

As the door closed again, leaving the two of them in the dim hallway, Jimin was frozen—his eyes wide with disbelief, heart thudding so loud he could barely hear anything else.

“Why did you say that… in front of him?” he asked softly. “Everyone will know now.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “Because it’s the truth.”

Jimin looked away shyly, biting his lip. “I… I shouldn’t be seen like this, Jungkook. You’re in a suit, they’re all dressed up, and I’m just—”

“Come with me,” Jungkook said suddenly, holding his hand out.

Jimin looked at it, startled. “W-What?”

“To the ballroom. Let’s dance.”

Jimin shook his head instantly. “I can’t—Jungkook, look at me. I’m not dressed for that. I’m literally working right now. It’s not suitable. They’ll laugh or—”

“I don’t care,” Jungkook said, stepping forward and taking his hand anyway. “Let them say what they want. You’ve been hiding yourself for far too long.”

Before Jimin could object again, Jungkook gently pulled him through the corridor. Jimin stumbled slightly, heart racing.

The ballroom doors opened wide.

Music was playing, couples already waltzing under the soft lights. As Jungkook stepped onto the floor holding Jimin’s hand, a hush fell over the crowd. Heads turned. Some guests whispered. Others blinked in surprise.

Jimin froze on the edge of the dance floor, cheeks burning, but Jungkook didn’t let go.

Instead, he turned, slid a hand around Jimin’s waist, and said with the warmest smile—

“Just follow me.”

The music swelled, and they moved.

Jimin’s steps were awkward at first—he wasn’t used to dancing, and especially not in front of rich investors and socialites while wearing an apron and dusty shoes.

But Jungkook held him firmly, leading him slowly across the floor. One-two. One-two.

The whispers stopped.

Then, someone clapped.

Another followed.

Soon, the ballroom erupted in cheers and applause, smiles lighting up the room as if they all finally saw what Jungkook had seen from the beginning—a boy full of heart, strength, and quiet grace.

Jimin looked up, his eyes wide, lips parted in awe as he stared at Jungkook’s warm gaze.

“You…” he whispered, trembling, “You’re really not embarrassed?”

Jungkook leaned down slightly, just enough so only Jimin could hear—

“Embarrassed?” he murmured. “You make me proud.”

And just like that… Jimin smiled.

The kind of smile that starts slow, as if he didn’t think he was allowed to feel it—until now.

___

The day of their wedding has finally arrived.

The hall was bathed in golden light, soft instrumental music floating through the air. Flowers adorned every pillar, and a delicate scent of white roses lingered like a blessing.

Jungkook stood tall at the altar, dressed in an elegant ivory suit embroidered with gold thread. His gaze was fixed ahead—but not out of nervousness. He was calm. Grounded. Waiting.

Then, the doors opened.

Gasps echoed through the room as Jimin stepped in.

Draped in an off-white suit with pastel blue accents, a soft glow followed him. His hair was neatly styled, his lips trembling slightly, eyes darting over the faces staring at him—but when they landed on Jungkook, his shoulders relaxed just a little.

Each step was small and hesitant, but steady.

And when he reached the altar, Jungkook extended his hand. Jimin placed his own in it, soft and slightly cold from nerves.

“Ready?” Jungkook asked gently, voice so low only Jimin could hear.

Jimin nodded slowly. “Mm.”

The officiant smiled and began.

They exchanged garlands. Then came the vows.

“I, Jeon Jungkook,” he began, his voice unwavering, “promise to protect, respect, and care for you. Even in silence, even in storm. I will not force your heart. I’ll wait for it.”

Jimin blinked rapidly. A tear nearly escaped.

Then his turn.

“I, Park Jimin,” he said softly, “promise to honor you, trust you… and try every day to make this bond beautiful… even if I don’t fully understand it yet.”

The hall fell silent.

The officiant beamed. “And now, you may seal your vows with a kiss.”

Jimin’s eyes widened. His fingers slightly tightened around Jungkook’s. He wasn’t ready—not for that, not with all these people watching, not with so many emotions fluttering inside him.

And Jungkook saw it. Felt it.

He smiled gently.

Instead of leaning in to kiss Jimin’s lips, Jungkook stepped forward and placed a warm, lingering kiss on his forehead.

A collective sigh rose from the crowd—soft gasps, fond smiles, misty eyes.

Jimin stared at him, eyes round, lips parted. Jungkook smiled again, brushing his thumb gently along Jimin’s hand.

“I told you,” he whispered, “I’ll wait.”

Jimin lowered his eyes, a soft blush rising to his cheeks.

And in that moment—without lips touching, without a single dramatic confession—something quiet and beautiful bloomed.

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