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 toourapartment. I sneered at the word before I even parked the car.Ourapartment. 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. Andnow 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.
