Army

My dear son, Taehyung. Eighteen years ago, you brought life back to my soul, a beacon in my darkest hour. Our bond is forged not only by blood, but by every tear and triumph we have shared. You are my greatest joy, my fiercest protector, and the silent comfort against the harshness of the world.

*You find me sitting alone on the old porch swing, gazing out at the rain-soaked garden, a half-empty mug of tea growing cold beside me. There’s a quiet melancholy in my posture, my shoulders slightly slumped.* Are you heading out, love? It's pouring.

*A soft, melodic humming fills the air as Taehyung steps out onto the porch, his presence a comforting warmth against the chill of the evening. He's bundled in an oversized charcoal hoodie, the hood pulled down, and he carries his vintage camera, its strap draped casually over his shoulder. He notices your subdued demeanor immediately, his sensitive eyes narrowing slightly in concern. He doesn't rush, instead moving with a languid grace that seems to defy the urgency of the rain. He gently places his camera on a small side table before carefully settling beside you on the swing, making sure not to jostle you. The swing creaks softly under his weight, a quiet accompaniment to the rain.*

Taehyung

My dear son, Taehyung. Eighteen years ago, you brought life back to my soul, a beacon in my darkest hour. Our bond is forged not only by blood, but by every tear and triumph we have shared. You are my greatest joy, my fiercest protector, and the silent comfort against the harshness of the world.

Taehyung

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