Page 32 of June

My name is June.

I am one of the odd ones.

The dancer, the blonde, the girl who could lose herself in music until the world blurred at the edges.

I've known pain in ways that still echo in my bones, crying on my mother's grave, clinging to my father's arms, moving away just to find myself again.

I learned to stand tall, even when my knees were trembling, and then, somehow, as if the universe was finally done testing me, I met the love of my life.

Liam—my man of stars and galaxies.

Sweet, endlessly kind, a dreamer who could talk about constellations for hours., and yet, when it's just the two of us, when the door closes and the world fades, he becomes fire itself—fierce, dominant, utterly consuming.

I love every side of him.

I love how he loves me: tenderly in the morning light, playfully in the afternoons, and with a passion that steals my breath at night.

With him, I've never had to question if I am cherished.

Almost three years into our marriage, we're finally awaiting the greatest gift—the tiny life we created together.

Our moonbaby, due in just two weeks, and I'm in these final days of being spoiled by Liam, my dad, and—surprisingly—my dad's wife.

Yes, wife.

Who would have thought that at my wedding, my father would find his second chance at love? With one of the odd ones, no less.

They've weathered storms—grief, mistakes, choices that nearly broke them.

My father, especially, stumbled through darkness of his own making: words that cut too deep, actions that left scars, shame and guilt that weighed on him like chains.

None of it can ever be excused.

And yet, somehow, they didn't let it be the end of them. They are not the only ones who are no longer alone.

A few months after my wedding, I went back to the city.

Alice was celebrating her engagement, and of course I wouldn't miss it.

What I didn't expect was to see Aaron again.

It had been almost three years since we'd last spoken.

Seeing him there, across the room, was strange.

He looked...

good. Happy.

He came over, smiling a little nervously.

"Hi, June."

"Hi, Aaron,"

I said, feeling oddly calm.

"It's been a long time."

"Yeah,"

he nodded, eyes soft.

"How've you been?"

I lifted my hand, showing him the ring that glittered under the lights.

"I got married."

For a moment his face was still, and then it broke into the warmest, most genuine smile.

"That's... amazing, June. I'm so happy for you."

"What about you?"

I asked gently.

His eyes brightened, and to my surprise, he looked almost shy.

"Well... I'm a dad now. To a beautiful little girl."

"Oh my God."

I couldn't help but beam.

"Yeah,"

he chuckled softly, shaking his head at the memory, as if still amused by his own fate.

"It was... unexpected. After we parted, I buried myself in work and family, stayed single for nearly a year. I thought maybe that was it for me, that I'd just settle into routine and keep my heart locked up. Then one night, in the most random café, I ended up arguing with this gorgeous woman about coffee beans."

His eyes lit up, a boyish grin breaking across his face, the kind that softened the lines of grief etched there.

"We couldn't agree on anything—she swore dark roast was the only roast worth drinking, and I told her she was basically sipping burnt ash. She told me I had no taste buds. We laughed until our sides hurt, until the barista had to tell us to quiet down. That laughter... it stuck with me. It was like I hadn't laughed like that in years, maybe since..."

He stopped, clearing his throat before the sentence could finish.

"We started dating—casually, at first. Nothing serious. Just dinners, walks, those stupid debates about everything from movies to which side of the bed was better. But then, well..."

He rubbed the back of his neck, half-embarrassed, half-proud.

"The first night we were together, she got pregnant."

I gasped softly, but his voice softened, turned reverent.

"It wasn't easy. We thought we'd just co-parent, keep things practical. I moved in to help—with the bills, the endless chores, her difficult pregnancy. At first it was duty, responsibility. But then..."

He paused, eyes distant, as if replaying every small moment.

"I'd find myself watching her sleep on the couch, her hand resting over her belly, and feel this ache I couldn't name. I started noticing how she'd wrinkle her nose when she laughed, or how she'd sing to the baby even when she was exhausted. Slowly, I realized I wasn't just staying for her, or even for the baby. I wanted her. Her joy became mine. Her struggles became mine. Every day I wanted to see her smile, to make life easier, brighter for her. That's when I knew."

His voice thickened slightly, and he smiled through it.

"I never thought I'd feel something like that again. That deep, steady kind of love that sneaks up on you, not with fireworks, but with a thousand quiet moments. I wanted to build a life with her—not because I had to, but because I couldn't imagine life without her."

He paused, rubbing the back of his neck, grinning almost boyishly, like the weight of the memory still warmed him.

"We gave dating a real chance, and it just...

felt right.

Natural.

Like I'd been walking in the dark and suddenly someone turned the lights on.

When our little girl took her first steps, I was already carrying the ring in my pocket.

I knew then that I wanted every step of my life to be with them. That same night, I asked her to marry me."

His grin widened, his eyes shining.

"And she said yes. We're engaged now. And honestly? I'm overwhelmed with joy. Sometimes I look at them—her holding our daughter—and I wonder how I got so lucky. I don't take a second of it for granted."

My heart softened, truly and deeply, melting at the honesty in his voice.

"Aaron... I'm so happy for you. I really am."

The words felt easy, natural, because I meant them.

He nodded, his throat bobbing as if he, too, was holding back something tender.

For a long moment, silence wrapped around us, not heavy but gentle, filled with everything unspoken.

We both knew what lingered beneath the surface: once, there had been something between us.

A chapter—fleeting, fiery, imperfect, but real.

It mattered then.

But life had carried us forward, shaping us, stretching us, softening us until we'd grown into the people we were always meant to become and in that growth, we had found our true callings—not in each other, but in the ones who became our soulmates.

Different paths, but both leading to where love had finally taken root.

And that, I thought as I watched him laugh across the room later, was its own kind of miracle.

The man I once knew in fragments—messy, searching, restless—was now standing in the glow of a different life.

He was on FaceTime, angled toward the back of the room, speaking to a beautiful woman holding a baby.

His laughter carried across the space, warm and unguarded.

When the call ended, he tucked his phone into his pocket and caught me smiling. "What?"

he teased.

"Nothing,"

I said, shaking my head softly. Then curiosity tugged at me.

"Actually... can I see a picture of your baby?"

"Of course."

His whole face lit up as he pulled out his phone again, swiping quickly before holding the screen toward me. A tiny girl filled the frame—round cheeks, dark eyes shining, a bow in her hair. She was beautiful.

"She's adorable,"

I said, meaning every word.

His pride was undeniable, his eyes glowing as he looked at the photo.

"Yeah... she's my everything."

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck with a little laugh.

"I was just FaceTiming them. I, uh... thought I should tell her I ran into my ex-fiancée tonight. You know, for honesty and respect."

"Good,"

I said warmly, touched by his candor.

"And... she was okay with it?"

He grinned.

"She laughed, actually. Said, 'yeah, yeah, anyway, bring me that delicious apple pie on your way home.'"

His chuckle was boyish, infectious, and I found myself laughing with him.

"Sounds like she knows she has nothing to worry about," I teased.

"Exactly."

He nodded, his expression softening.

"She knows I'm crazy about her and, truthfully... I never stopped therapy. Even when it was hard. We went to couple's therapy too, at first—back when we thought we'd only co-parent. It helped us figure out what we really wanted, helped us learn how to love without fear and somewhere in the middle of all that work... we realized we wanted to be a family."

"It's crazy,"

I said softly.

"we both ended up meeting our soulmates eventually."

Aaron's smile was gentle, a little wistful.

"Yeah. I really want to thank you, June. You were always a good partner, and a good person to me. I'm sorry for all the pain I caused, but... I'm glad it led us both here, to the people we're meant for."

He tilted his head, eyes sincere.

"Is he treating you right?"

I laughed, light and unrestrained, almost like a goddess laughing at the sky.

"Liam? Like a goddess."

"Good."

His relief was genuine.

"You deserve it."

"You too, Aaron."

We hugged goodbye—warm, final, —and I left. In the car, as the city lights blurred past the window, I dialed Liam.

He picked up on the first ring.

"Hey, love."

"I... met Aaron tonight,"

I said carefully.

A pause, then his voice was steady, curious.

"Oh? How's he doing?"

"Great, actually."

I exhaled, letting the truth roll out.

"We caught up on our lives. He's a dad now. He's engaged. And I—"

My voice faltered.

"You can cry, Celestia,"

Liam murmured, his tone soft as velvet.

"I know when you're holding it in."

My throat tightened, and the sting of tears gathered before I could stop them. I gave a shaky laugh, wiping at my eyes.

"I hate that you always know when I'm about to cry,"

I whispered, voice breaking.

"And I don't even know why I am. It's not sadness—it's... too many feelings at once."

I took a breath, heart pounding as I met his gaze.

"I love you—no discussion, no doubt about that. I'm really, truly happy with you. Happier than I've ever been. But I'm also... happy for Aaron. I want him to be okay, to find joy too. It was so sweet seeing him again and realizing he is happy. And..."

my voice faltered, almost afraid of the answer.

"are you mad at me for feeling that?"

"No, never,"

Liam said, his voice calm, steady, like an anchor in the storm of my emotions.

"You're crying because it's happiness layered on happiness. Because you know that choosing me didn't make him miserable. And you're glad—truly glad—because it means both of you get to live the love you were meant to find. That's what makes your heart ache in this sweet way—it's joy, not sorrow."

He paused, letting the words sink in.

"You're safe with me, Celestia, and you're allowed to feel all of this at once."

I pressed my forehead to the steering wheel, tears spilling but a smile breaking through.

"God, I love you."

"I know,"

he whispered back.

"And I love you more."

On the drive home, Liam kept talking to me through the speaker, his voice all warmth and humor.

"You know,"

I sniffed.

"you're too good at this. Always knowing what to say."

"Well,"

he said, mock-serious.

"I have to make up for my culinary shortcomings somehow."

I laughed.

"Shortcomings? You mean the fact that you can't cook an actual meal to save your life?"

"Excuse me,"

he protested.

"I am excellent at baking. My cookies are practically written in the stars. My brownies? Constellations of perfection. My cinnamon rolls? Milky Way material."

I giggled.

"Yeah, but try making pasta and suddenly it's a black hole of despair."

"Hey,"

he shot back with a grin I could hear.

"I was born to make desserts, not dinners. You want stardust sugar highs? I'm your man. You want chicken parmesan? Call literally anyone else."

"Good thing I love you," I teased.

"Good thing you do,"

he said softly.

"Otherwise, I'd starve."

We laughed until my cheeks ached, and the sound lingered like an orbit around us...

The memory pulled me gently back into our present, in the living room, resting my hands on the swell of my huge bump when Liam came through the door, his arms loaded with yet more baby gear.

"Liam,"

I groaned, half amused, half exasperated.

"We have enough. You've already bought so much for the baby."

He kissed my cheek, eyes twinkling.

"There's no such thing as too much when it's for my boy—or girl. And..."

He pulled something from the bag, holding it out with a flourish.

"For you. This should help ease the pressure on your legs."

My throat tightened as I took it. He wrapped me carefully in his arms, pressing his lips to my temple.

"I'm so proud of you,"

he whispered.

"I'm huge,"

I muttered against his chest.

"Excuse you,"

he countered immediately, tipping my chin up with his finger.

"My Celestia is a gorgeous, beautiful, brave woman who's about to be a stellar mother."

"How do you know?"

My voice cracked.

"I don't have mine to help me. I don't know what I'm doing."

He kissed me slowly, tenderly, as if every word had to be pressed into me with patience. His forehead rested against mine when he spoke, his voice steady but reverent.

"There are millions of incredible mothers out there who either never had a mom, or had the wrong kind, and you know what? most of them turn out to be the best ones."

He brushed his thumb over my cheek, catching a tear before it could fall.

"Because being a mother isn't about repeating what you saw. It's about instinct, about love, about choosing every single day to give what you never got, and you, my love, already have that in you."

My lips trembled, and I shook my head slightly.

"But what if I don't know how?"

He smiled, soft but unshakable.

"You do. Maybe it's because you know what life without a mom feels like, that you'll never let our child feel that emptiness. You'll fill their world with so much safety, so much warmth, so much laughter, they'll never even know what's missing. You'll be the kind of mother who turns her pain into light for her children. And that,"

he kissed me again.

"is why you're going to be one of the very best."

I closed my eyes, the tears finally spilling, but they felt different now—not heavy, but freeing.

"Thank you,"

I whispered, my voice breaking.

He held me tighter, his hand spread wide across my bump.

"Don't thank me. Just believe me. Our little one already has the best mom in the universe."

I smiled through my tears, pressing my face into his shoulder.

"I love you"

Two weeks later, our sweet miracle arrived: a little moonboy, swaddled in starlight.

We named him Orion North—our eternal compass, the constellation that will always lead us home.

He is the soft glow in the midnight of our lives, the proof that love can stitch galaxies together.

In his tiny hands rests the sky itself, and in his first breath, I felt the whole universe lean closer, whispering.

"Here is your forever light."

The End