Page 2 of June

"You need to stop letting Aaron decorate."

December grinned as she plucked one of the little sunflower napkin rings off the table.

"This is aggressively cheerful."

I laughed, smoothing the matching table runner.

"What can I say? He calls me his sunshine. I think he takes it a bit too literally."

My house was bathed in golden yellows and soft creams—sunflowers everywhere. It was sweet, really. Over the years, Aaron had taken my nickname and built a little world around it. My friends teased me about it constantly, but I loved it.

December had dropped by with a list in one hand and a protein bar in the other.

"I came to check if you need anything for the wedding. May and Jan are handling the invites, and I'm on cake-tasting duty, which, frankly, I think I won."

I smiled, touched.

"You're all amazing. I honestly don't know what I'd do without you guys."

We were only a few weeks away now. Everything was falling into place. I had the man I loved, a home we built together, a dance studio he had practically made with his bare hands, and a future that felt golden—just like my living room.

The front door opened. Aaron's voice rang out.

"I brought coffee!"

December stood up quickly.

"And that's my cue to go."

She winked.

"Enjoy your caffeinated fiancé."

She left just as Aaron walked in, grinning with a coffee tray in hand. He kissed the top of my head, handed me my cup—extra cinnamon, just how I liked it—and then sat beside me, suddenly... quiet.

"Everything okay?"

I asked, studying his face.

"Yeah. Yeah, just—something weird happened."

He ran a hand through his hair, then looked at me with that sheepish, guilty look he only wore when he thought he might upset me.

"I got a message today. From Selene."

I blinked. "Selene?"

"My high school girlfriend. You remember—I told you about her once. We were together for a few years. She left for college. I haven't heard from her in, like, forever."

He paused, waiting for my reaction. I gave him nothing. Just listened.

"She wants to catch up. Just... talk. See how life's been."

My stomach clenched. There was no logical reason for it. But something felt off. Heavy.

"You want to go?"

I asked softly.

"I thought about it. I don't know. I was going to say no. But it's just coffee, right? Nothing weird. I just thought it might be nice to close that chapter or... whatever."

I couldn't speak at first. My mouth had gone dry.

He leaned in, brushing his fingers along my jaw.

"But if you don't want me to, I won't go. I promise. You say the word."

I looked at him, at the man I'd loved for years. The man who'd supported every dream I had, who'd made me feel safe and adored. I couldn't let one message make me insecure. That wasn't who I was. That wasn't who we were.

So I smiled and shook my head.

"No, it's okay. It would be ridiculous of me to say no. You should go."

He smiled, pulled me into his arms, and kissed my forehead.

But as he held me, I couldn't shake the weight pressing down on my chest.

That night, he went to see her.

And I went to the studio he built for me—walls covered in mirrors and lined with tiny ballet shoes.

I taught kids how to leap, how to spin, how to hold their heads high.

My studio always smelled like wood polish and lavender.

The mirrors gleamed, and sunlight poured through the windows, bouncing off the polished floors like warm little halos.

Kids had just finished their class—giggling, still in their tutus and sneakers, waving goodbye to Miss June.

I cleaned up the ribbons and glitter like I always did, humming under my breath, trying to keep my mind blank.

I didn't want to think about Aaron and Selene. I didn't want to give that voice in my head another inch of space.

"Earth to Sunshine."

I looked up to see Leo leaning against the doorway to the main studio, sipping from his water bottle.

He was tall, dark-haired, charming in that disarming, playful way. We'd danced together for years—partner showcases, recitals, some small competitions—and he was good. Ridiculously good. The kind of partner that made you feel lighter, stronger, better.

"Sorry,"

I said, grabbing a towel and tossing it at him.

"Zoned out."

He caught it with a grin.

"Zoning out during a samba rehearsal? Wow. I'm hurt."

I rolled my eyes.

"We're not rehearsing today, Leo. You just showed up because you're addicted to the sound of your own heels on my floors."

He laughed.

"I show up because you're here. You make this place worth the noise."

I paused, slightly thrown, but brushed it off with a playful nudge.

"Flattery gets you nowhere, Reyes."

He looked at me then—really looked.

"Maybe not. But it's true."

The silence lingered for a second too long. I busied myself by fixing the strap on one of the practice heels left behind, feeling heat creep into my cheeks. Leo took a step forward, then hesitated.

"If you ever need anything—anything at all—you know I'm around, right?"

I nodded, smiling faintly.

"Thanks. I know."

He left after that, with a lingering glance that I still didn't fully understand. Or maybe I just didn't want to. Leo was... kind. Safe. But Aaron was home. Aaron was mine.

I stayed back longer than I needed to, pretending to work on choreography I didn't even write down. Just trying to push down the unease. By the time I got home, the sky was turning the color of old peaches, streaked with gold and bruised pinks. The house was quiet. Too quiet.

Aaron still wasn't back.

I checked my phone. No messages. I tried calling. Straight to voicemail.

A strange ache bloomed in my chest. I shook it off, blaming poor reception or a dead battery. I kicked off my shoes, made tea, and sat at the kitchen island with my phone in hand, staring at the empty space where his keys usually sat.

He was just catching up, I told myself. Just talking. I was being ridiculous.

But the voice was louder now. Stronger. Meaner.

What if she reminded him of who he used to be?

What if he missed that? Missed her?

I shut my eyes, hating how fast my heart was racing. Then I heard the keys in the lock.

I stood too quickly, nearly knocking over my tea. The door opened. Aaron stepped inside.

He looked... normal. Too normal.

"Hey, baby,"

he said, dropping his keys into the dish and reaching for me. But something in my belly turned to ice. Something about the way he kissed my cheek like he hadn't vanished for hours. Something about the scent on his jacket that didn't belong to me.

"Sorry I didn't answer,"

he added casually.

"Lost track of time."

I smiled. But it didn't reach my eyes.

And something inside me—something quiet and knowing—curled into a ball and braced for impact.