Page 8 of June

I woke up that morning with a hollow in my chest. Some mornings are easier than others—sunlight filtering in, warming my skin, fooling me into thinking I'm okay. But not today. Today I woke up and remembered everything. Like I always do, eventually.

The cold side of the bed. The silence. The ache that no sleep could soften.

A note lay on the nightstand in Jan's unmistakable scrawl:

"Call your dad. Take time off. Go home."

I stared at it, fingers curled around the paper like it might dissolve in my hand. She didn't sign it, didn't need to. I knew her handwriting, knew her blunt kindness. She never said the word "love"

but it leaked through the cracks of everything she did. For the first time in what felt like days, I let out a breath that didn't hurt. I knew what I had to do. But first, the studio.

Leo was already there, as usual—bright-eyed and wearing one of those sarcastic graphic tees I always teased him about. Today's said.

"I teach dance. What's your superpower?"

"Hey,"

I said quietly.

He looked up from the front desk and his expression softened instantly.

"Hey, June. You okay?"

I didn't lie, but I didn't fall apart either.

"I need to go away for a bit. Just for a while."

He nodded, stepping around the counter.

"I figured. You've been... kind of holding your breath since that night."

I smiled, faint and flickering.

"I haven't even had time to exhale."

He reached out and squeezed my arm.

"You're the boss, remember? You own this place. You built it. With your heart. Doesn't matter that he bought it or paid for the floors—you're the one who made it matter."

His words caught me off guard. "Leo..."

"I'm not just saying it. And I'm not going anywhere, okay? Take all the time you need. I'll keep things spinning. We'll find someone to sub your classes."

"Thank you,"

I whispered.

We spent the next hour emailing the parents, arranging the sub schedule, handing over the admin login. Every step felt like handing away a little piece of myself, but Leo's steady presence made it bearable. We sat down together and called up the substitute instructors. Ms. Talia from across town would take my advanced ballet classes. Nate could sub for contemporary, and we'd split some of the workload among the interns. I wrote everything down, like a goodbye letter no one would read.

I hugged Leo again before I left. He kissed the top of my head and said.

"Take care of your heart. The studio will still be here."

When everything was set, I stepped outside and finally made the call.

"Dad?"

His voice on the other end cracked like warm thunder.

"Junebug? Sweetheart?"

"I'm coming home,"

I said, voice thick.

"I just... I need to be somewhere... safe."

His silence said more than any words could. Then, softly.

"You always have a place here. Always."

And just like that, I wasn't alone.

Back at Jan's, I packed the last of my things. Tossing clothes into a duffel, toiletries into a tote. I called her as I zipped up the second bag.

"I'm going."

"'Bout damn time,"

she muttered.

"Check the top drawer in my bedroom."

I blinked. "Why?"

"Just do it."

I padded into her bedroom and opened the drawer. Everything was pristine, not a sock out of place. Nestled in the corner, a single silver key glinted up at me.

"That's the double key,"

she said, softer now.

"To this house. In case you forget who loves you. Come back anytime, June. No explanations needed."

I stood frozen, the key heavy in my palm. "Jan..."

"Don't start crying, June. I'm bad with that shit."

I laughed through the tears. "Okay."

"Now get your dramatic ass out of my house. Safe trip, sunshine."

I hung up, smiling through the ache, and drove to our apartment. I sneered at the word before I even parked the car. Our apartment. What a joke. When I walked in, the air felt different. Lighter, emptier. I scanned the living room. No keys on the hook. No shoes at the door. No hoodie draped on the back of the chair.

He wasn't staying here.

I moved through the apartment slowly, finding more absence than presence. A few drawers empty. A toothbrush gone. Most of his everyday stuff missing. I didn't need to ask where he was. His grandmother was furious. His mother, even more so. That left Selene. Of course it did.

I collapsed on the edge of the bed and let the tears come. Quiet, aching ones. The kind that didn't want to be heard, only released.

Eventually, I stood up and started packing the rest of my things. I made sure nothing of mine remained. No mugs, no hair ties, no forgotten socks behind the laundry machine. I would not be a ghost in his space. I moved through the apartment like a stranger moving through someone else's life—touching remnants that no longer belonged to me. My bag was full, but it was the invisible weight that bent my spine, not the things I carried.

The key had been in my pocket all day. I hadn't meant to bring it—I just hadn't known how to let it go. But now... I walked to the kitchen counter and placed it down with a soft click that echoed louder than it should have.

Then, slowly, I looked down at my hand.

The ring was still there.

Even after I'd canceled the wedding. Even after I'd cried myself to sleep more nights than I could count. I couldn't bring myself to take it off—until now. I had worn it like armor, like denial, like hope clinging to memory, but there was no armor left. No denial. Just the ache of reality.

I stared at it for a long moment. The yellow diamond glinted gently under the fading light—warm and soft like sunlight. Like me. He used to say I was his sunshine. That even on his worst days, I made the world bright. He had flown most of the Odd Ones in for the proposal—my friends, my sisters of the heart. He'd kept it a secret for weeks, coordinated flights and surprises, and proposed in the middle of that ridiculous garden café I loved so much. I'd felt so loved that day. So chosen.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted. The warmth dimmed. His eyes no longer looked at me like I was light. And now the ring no longer meant love. It was a relic of promises that unraveled. A symbol of how much effort he once gave... and how much he eventually stopped.

My fingers trembled as I slipped it off. It felt like peeling off a piece of my identity—of who I thought I was to him. I placed it beside the key. Two small objects, quietly devastating. They had once been tokens of a future. Now, they were just parting gifts for a life that wasn't mine anymore.

I took a breath. Deep. Shaky. And then I turned away. I didn't slam the door. I closed it gently. Softly. Like saying goodbye to someone you'll always love but can no longer stay with.

I left. Ringless. Keyless.

It was almost sunset when I veered off the main road that leads to my Dad's house. The cemetery gates stood open, the wind fluttering through the trees like whispers.

I hadn't been here in months. Maybe longer. But I went straight to her. Like I always did.

Her headstone was clean, fresh flowers resting in the vase. Someone had been visiting. My dad, probably.

"Hi, Mom,"

I whispered, tracing the grooves of her name like they could bring her back.

"I should've come sooner. I kept thinking I'd be okay, that I could handle everything. That if I just kept moving, I wouldn't fall apart."

A shaky breath left my lips.

"But I'm falling apart now."

I knelt down, fingers curling into the grass at the base of the headstone.

"I miss you so much it aches. Some days I wake up and for half a second I forget you're gone... and then I remember, and it feels like losing you all over again."

My voice cracked.

"I'd give anything to hear you call me sunshine again. To roll your eyes at my messes, to laugh at the way I cry during dance movies. I'd give anything to lay my head in your lap and feel your fingers in my hair."

My chest clenched like it couldn't hold the pain anymore.

"I thought I was loved. I really believed he loved me. And now it's all just—gone. Like I was the only one who meant it. And I don't know how to come back from that."

A breeze whispered past, but there was no comfort in it. Just emptiness. Just her absence.

"I'm tired, Mom. So, so tired. I'm tired of being the strong one. Of smiling when it hurts. I just wanted someone to choose me. The way I would've chosen them every single time."

I closed my eyes and let the tears fall.

And then—

"I'm not her,"

a voice said gently behind me.

"I'll never be her. But if you need someone to hold you while the world breaks... I'm here, JuneBug."

I turned around, and there he was—my dad, standing just a few feet away, his eyes wet and arms open like a harbor in a storm, and I didn't even think.

I ran. I ran like I used to when I scraped my knees and the world felt too big. I ran straight into his chest, and he caught me like he always had—like he always would.

I sobbed. Loud, ugly, heartbroken sobs that soaked through his shirt, and he held me like he'd hold me forever.

He didn't try to hush me. He didn't rush me. He just pressed his cheek to the top of my head and whispered.

"You don't have to be okay. Not here. Not with me."

I clutched him tighter, burying myself in the one place I still felt safe.

"I don't know how to do this anymore,"

I said between breaths.

"I feel like I'm disappearing."

"You're still here,"

he said, his voice rough with emotion.

"And as long as I'm breathing, you will never be alone. I'm not your mom, June... but I love you with everything I've got for the both of us."

I believed him because no matter how lost I was, my dad had always been the way back.