Page 25 of What the Leos Burned (BLP Signs of Love #6)

The End of The Road

The house was quiet. There was no usual buzz of music or the sound of the TV to fill the silence of the background. No laughter echoed through the halls. Just silence throughout Love’s home.

She and Juwon had agreed on the time and the day to have the conversation they avoided for so long. Now, it was finally here.

Love sat at the island in her kitchen with her arms folded above the countertop.

Her legs crossed tightly at the ankles like she was bracing herself for a storm.

She turned her head toward the doorway where Yana sat in the living room, on the edge of the couch with her fingers knotted together in her lap.

She had spent the entire morning mentally rehearsing what she might say, then scrapped every version. Nothing ever seemed right.

She flinched as the doorbell rang and pulled her from her thoughts. He never used the bell. He always walked in like he still lived there because, for so long, he had. But today, he rang the bell. A small act of respect. A boundary finally recognized.

Love inhaled and stood slowly. She exited the kitchen and walked into the foyer. She took a deep breath before opening the front door. When it swung open, Juwon was there, hands buried in the pockets of a black bomber jacket, his expression flat but polite.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” She stepped aside, and he entered without another word.

Yana was still waiting in the living room.

When they both walked into the room, she looked at them, took a deep breath, and then moved to the far end of the couch.

She tucked her legs underneath her and grabbed the throw blanket, which was folded across the back of the couch, across her lap like armor.

Her eyes were alert and guarded. She didn’t look like their little girl anymore.

She looked like she knew something life-altering was about to be said.

Love walked in and sat across from her, shoulders tight, hands clasped.

Juwon followed behind her and sat beside her, opposite Yana.

No one spoke for a moment, letting the weight of it all shift through the air.

Love’s mouth opened to begin the conversation, but nothing came out. Her tongue was dry, her heart loud.

She saw how Juwon noticed her hesitation from her peripheral vision. Of course he did. He knew her. He always had. With a soft sigh, he stepped in to speak first.

“Yana,” he began softly. “When I met your mom, she was already pregnant with you. We were kids.” He paused and swallowed a lump in his throat.

“She was eighteen, just a few months into her first semester of college. The story of us meeting in the library was true. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.”

He smiled at Love before he continued. “It’s true that she blew me off.

It’s true that I chased her and didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

I liked her. When she finally let me take her to dinner, she admitted to me then that she was fully prepared to raise her baby alone.

She made it clear that she wasn’t looking for pity or a handout.

I admired her strength. So, I stuck around when she’d let me. ”

He looked at Yana and continued.

“We developed a friendship from there. I would go with her sometimes to doctors’ appointments and come over to help her study.

The pictures you see of me at the hospital when you were born was a choice I had made to be there for your mom.

By your first birthday, I knew I wanted to be your dad.

Not just the guy who showed up sometimes.

Not just her boyfriend. I wanted to be your father.

And I’ve never regretted that choice. Never. ”

He glanced at Love who gave a small, knowing smile at the nostalgic thought of the past. Yana stared at their exchange, first into Juwon’s eyes and then into her mother’s. Juwon then shifted his gaze to Yana and continued.

“So I stepped in. And I never saw you as anything less than my child. I raised you. I chose you.”

Yana’s lips parted, but she stayed silent.

“But,” Juwon added gently, “I do regret how long we waited to tell you. That part, . . . we failed you on.”

There was a pause. Love turned her head from the floor, up to Yana. Juwon’s gaze shifted from Yana to the ringless finger on his left hand. He rubbed the spot where the ring was once placed, massaging the imprinted lines that were almost faded.

Yana’s voice was quiet but firm. “So . . . you both lied to me?”

Juwon winced. He looked back into her eyes. “I didn’t think of it that way. I thought I was protecting you. Giving you the love and stability I felt you deserved. I didn’t want you to feel like you were missing anything.”

Yana’s face folded for a moment as the emotion caught up to her body. She shifted in her seat, uncrossed her legs from under her, and bit her bottom lip. “I don’t know how to feel.”

“You don’t have to know, baby,” Juwon said gently. “You get to feel all of it, confused, hurt, angry. Whatever you need.”

Yana stared at her mother now. “Does Westside Zay know?”

Love leaned forward and reached for her daughter’s hand. Yana pulled it back, and the movement hit Love like a slap. Her hand hovered in the space between them for a second before falling to her lap.

“He knows now,” Love whispered. “I told him a few days ago. Right after you found out. I wanted to tell you both so many times, . . . but the right moment never came. I was scared. And young. I was wrong.”

Tears blurred her eyes, but she blinked them back.

“I just kept waiting for the right time. And it kept slipping by.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Juwon looked drained. His jaw clenched like he was holding back emotion. Love glanced at Yana, whose face had softened slightly, but her brows were still drawn tight. No one spoke a word for what seemed like hours.

“I want to meet him,” Yana said suddenly, cutting through the silence.

Love’s chest clenched. “You do?”

Yana nodded. “I don’t want to replace you,” she said, turning to Juwon. “I just want to know where I come from.”

Juwon’s face cracked into a pained, bittersweet smile. He cleared his throat and then responded. “I want that for you too.”

For another long moment, none of them spoke again.

They sat in a quiet triangle, tethered by the truth, trying to untangle grief, forgiveness, and years of buried emotion.

Love reached for Yana’s hand again, and this time, she didn’t pull away.

Their fingers intertwined. Juwon leaned in next and wrapped his arms around both of them.

The embrace was hesitant at first, but when Yana’s head lowered onto his shoulder, and Love exhaled shakily, it became something else.

It became tentative healing. A silent understanding.

When he pulled back from the embrace, Juwon cleared his throat. “You two hungry?” he asked, attempting a smile. “I could eat.”

Yana nodded, her voice warm. “Can we order from that Thai place?”

Love looked between them and gave a small nod. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

They all stood and moved into the kitchen together, each step a little lighter than before.

While Love placed the order, Juwon pulled down plates and cups out of habit.

Yana leaned against the counter, still quiet but present.

They didn’t speak much, just small, safe talk while they waited for dinner.

There was no tension, just a fragile peace that slowly knit itself into the room.

When the food arrived, they ate and laughed between small jokes.

When they finished, they cleaned up, then gathered back into the living room like old times.

Snacks spread across the coffee table, and the TV played softly in the background.

They chose a movie they used to watch together when Yana was little.

It was something silly, familiar, and safe.

When a corny line came on, Yana let out a small giggle, but it echoed through the room like sunshine cracking through a storm.

Love caught Juwon looking at Yana with glassy eyes.

“She’s got your heart,” he whispered.

“No,” Love replied softly. “That’s all yours.”

The rest of the night unfolded gently. They didn’t revisit the heavy stuff.

Just shared space, warmth, and noodles eaten straight from the carton.

Yana eventually curled up against a throw pillow with her head resting on Love’s shoulder.

Juwon reclined in the armchair nearby, his eyes flicking between them and the screen.

It was quiet again, but not the aching kind. Just stillness.

As the credits rolled and Yana dozed lightly, Juwon stood. He walked over to the coat he’d hung on the back of the couch and reached into the inside pocket. When he turned around, there was a thin manila envelope in his hand.

He walked it over to Love, careful not to wake Yana, and held it out. She looked up at him, surprised.

“I signed them,” he said, his voice low. “The divorce papers.”

Love’s fingers closed around the envelope slowly as he released them from his grip. She stared at it for a second before lifting her gaze to him.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Juwon shrugged. “I think you’re an incredible woman, Love. Always have. We just . . . stopped loving each other the same way. But there’s no love lost. I still love you. I’ll always love Yana. I’ll still be here . . . if you’ll let me.”

Love’s eyes brimmed again. “I’m sorry. For everything I placed on you. For how I made you carry it all. I still love you too. And I’ll always be grateful.”

He leaned down and hugged her, careful not to wake Yana who was still resting on her shoulder. It was gentle, firm, and familiar.

“I’m going to head out now,” he whispered in her ear before standing up.

Love gently lifted Yana off her shoulder and rested her on the couch gently. “Let me walk you out.”

When the front door finally closed behind him, Love stood there for a moment, her hand still wrapped around the envelope.

She listened to the movie that was still playing faintly from the front door, though she wasn’t paying attention. She turned her back and leaned against the door. She tilted her head back and exhaled, slow and deep.

Tears slipped from her eyes. Love didn’t say anything; she just stood there in silence, wrapped in the kind of love that didn’t need fixing, only time.