You open your eyes to find yourself alone again. Comeback day. You were going to get up early, and make a special breakfast in celebration, but you seemed to have slept through your alarm. He was right, you could never do anything correctly. You rolled out of bed and slipped into your comfortable loafers, making your way down to the kitchen. If you work fast enough, you can still make the boys a small snack for after their comeback stage. You contemplated what all the boys would agree to eat, and settled on a big pot of noodles. You set a pan over the stove and wait for it to begin boiling. You open the kitchen cabinets, but the ingredients you need are too high up. You jump a couple of times before growing frustrated. You are too short to even function on your own. A big fat burden. You jumped again, missing and taking down a small box of raisins with you. The anger built inside you, and you began tearing item after item off the shelves in a desperate attempt for the noodles. After the cabinet is nearly empty, you finally manage to grasp onto the plastic packaging you so desperately desired. You place the food in the water and leave it to boil. You turn back to the mess you had made. The counter was covered in a mix of unknown powders. All you did was make a pack of instant noodles, and you destroyed the kitchen. You sigh and turn back to the boiling liquid in front of you deciding to clean later. After a few minutes you move to remove the pan from the flame. The burning hot metal touches your skin for only a moment, and you scream out in pain. Your hands jerk at the handles and the pot goes crashing to the floor. You were stupid to do that. You are always so stupid. You are too stupid and short and fat and ugly. You don’t deserve Yoongi.
Your hand was throbbing with the fresh burn, and you remembered the small first aid kit you kept in the living room. You swept out of the kitchen searching for the tiny red box. It lay hidden under a framed photo of you and Yoongi. You tossed aside the picture and wrapped your wound. The photograph lay face down on the carpet below you, and you turned to pick it up. It had been taken a week after your marriage. He didn’t like the photo, but you still had it framed. His smile was so sweet, and you seemed like a dark hideous mark on the page. You rip the photo from its frame tearing yourself to shreds. You continued to stare at Yoongi’s face. He used to be happy. You threw his picture to the floor, and moved on to the next photo you had. After your face was removed from each image you moved on to the letters. The beautiful love poems that he had wrote you all those years ago. You had kept them for when you felt sad, when you needed his words. But now you didn’t deserve the sweet rhymes that lay in front of you. You ripped at the papers rabidly, and soon all of the letters lay shredded on the floor. You began to weep, sinking to the floor in the middle of the scraps of the life that you wanted. If Yoongi came home now… You wiped the tears from your face with the harsh fabric of your sleeve before heading to the bathroom. That room was a glaring reminder of your body. A giant mirror took up all of the left wall.
Little post it stuck to the glass reminding you to take your prenatals. To take your meds. You needed those notes because you were too stupid to remember. Your reflection stared back at you, so you turned to the side and traced your finger over the outline of your belly. You were so big. Your tear stained face was the next thing to be evaluated. Ugly. That’s all you could see. You were a burden. A weight tied to Yoongi’s ankles as he tries to swim to the surface. You and the baby. This is the life you had always dreamed of having, married to the one and only Min Yoongi, but by chasing your dreams you were killing his. Did you really have the right to be that selfish? What could you do? If you left, Yoongi would be left with a massive scandal. No, that would ruin him. That would be selfish. Just drown yourself. That’s it. But you were a coward. Your hands just hovered over the faucets, you couldn’t pull them open. No, no think of the baby and take your meds. Get some fresh air, that’s what you need. Fresh air. You stand and shove through your front door. The outside world is cold, but you didn’t have a jacket big enough to fit over your oversized belly. The traffic whirred past in the street nearby. You could hear the booming motors as each vehicle whipped by the tall trees. Your feet had a mind of their own now. They just stepped. One step at a time. Then you were at the edge of the road. One more step and you won’t be a burden. One more step and it will all be over. Just one more step. Credit to official4nr @DestinaByrd @Valerie816