By morning, I was at her door.
The sky hadn't even warmed yet—just that bleak pre-dawn gray that sits heavy on the world, like the day itself wasn't sure it wanted to begin. I stood there with my heart pounding like it was trying to punch through my ribs. I don't even remember the drive. Just the sound of tires on pavement and the way her name echoed in my head over and over like a plea, a prayer, a punishment.
When she opened the door, it wasn't a moment from a movie. There was no gasp. No shock. No flicker of hope lighting her eyes.
She looked like she'd been expecting me. Hair pulled into a loose knot, face washed clean of sleep or softness, wrapped in one of those oversized sweatshirts I used to steal just to breathe her in. Her expression wasn't cold—it was colder.Tired. Like grief had hollowed her out and left only walls behind.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice flat, arms folded across her chest like armor.
Before I could speak, her father appeared behind her—again. Always there. Like some silent sentinel guarding her from the man who broke her heart.
"June," he said, low and steady, "remember what we talked about."
She didn't look at him. Didn't look at me either. But after a long beat, she stepped aside.
"You've got five minutes," she said, voice clipped. "I have a class at ten."
Her father stared me down as I passed, and his words carved themselves straight into my spine.
"If she tells you to leave," he said, "you leave. Immediately."
"I will," I managed. He didn't answer. Just turned and walked away like he couldn't bear to look at me another second.
And then it was just me and June but the distance between us felt like entire continents had cracked open. .
But she didn't offer me a seat. Didn't offer me anything.
"So?" she said, folding her arms tighter. "Go ahead. Say what you came to say."
I took a shaky breath. My throat burned. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. But I'd come this far.
"June, this isn't something we can rush. This is... this is our future."
Her eyes went wide—then narrowed like knives. And she laughed. A bitter, jagged sound that cut through me like glass.
"You really are the most arrogant, delusional man I've ever known," she snapped. "Ourfuture? What future? The one we built together—and you shattered without blinking?"
"I know how that sounds. That was arrogant. But I'm desperate, okay? Just—just give me a second. Please."
She didn't answer. Didn't blink. Just stared. Waiting. Daring me to dig the grave deeper.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I was wrong. Completely wrong. I think—I know I did cheat. Emotionally. I let something start with Selene. But it was over months ago. It only lasted a month."
She smiled. It was the saddest thing I'd ever seen on her face.
"Congratulations," she said quietly. "Do you want a medal?"
"I didn't sleep with her."
"Oh, fantastic," she snapped, her voice rising, trembling. "Should I order you a trophy? A fucking parade?"
"I know how much it hurts. Iknow. I don't blame you for being furious—I deserve every ounce of it. But I need you to understand. I wasn't chasing her. I was chasing some version of myself I thought I'd lost."
The silence was louder than any scream.
"But I love you Junie," I whispered. "More than anything. I just didn't know how to be the man you deserved. But I want to be. I'm trying to be."
She said nothing.
