Dad stood without a word, crossed the space between us, and pulled me into his arms. His hug was immediate and strong, no hesitation. The moment I felt his hand cradle the back of my head and the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest against mine, I broke completely.
I sobbed into his shoulder like I was ten years old again, like I had scraped my knees and needed someone to tell me the pain would pass.
"I feel like I'm caught between two lives," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "Like I'm standing with one foot in the past and one in the present, but I don't fully belong in either place."
The words tumbled out, heavier than I expected. I looked down at my hands, twisting them in my lap, ashamed of the truth I was finally voicing. "I wake up next to Liam and it feels warm, safe, right. He makes me feel seen in a way I didn't know I needed. And then... there are these moments when I am alone, when the past just rushes in like a tide I can't stop."
I took a shaky breath, blinking through the sting in my eyes. "I keep thinking about the life I had with Aaron. About everything we built, even if it broke. It was still real and it's not that I want to go back to it, not really... but I also can't pretend it didn't shape me."
I looked up, my eyes meeting my dad's. "So I'm stuck, Dad. In this awful limbo. Feeling guilty when I'm happy with Liam, like I'm not allowed to be. Feeling guilty when I miss Aaron, like I'm betraying someone. Constantly questioning if I've moved on too fast or if I've even moved on at all."
I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to stop the spinning in my head. "It's like no matter what I do, I'm doing something wrong. And I don't know how to fix it. I don't know how to move forward when part of me keeps looking over my shoulder."
"You're allowed to have those feelings, June," Dad murmured into my hair, his arms still wrapped around me like a harbor. His voice was low, steady—anchoring me, tethering me tothe present when my emotions felt like they were scattering in a thousand directions. "You're grieving. And not just the relationship, not just Aaron. You're grieving the version of yourself that existed in that life. The girl who loved him. The girl who thought forever looked one particular way."
He gently pulled back to look at me, brushing a tear away with the side of his thumb. "That kind of grief is quiet and complicated. It sneaks in when you're laughing with someone new. When you're happy. Especially then and it makes you question everything—your heart, your future, even your right to move on."
I bit my lip to keep it from trembling, but it was no use. The tears kept slipping down my cheeks. His voice softened further.
"But youdohave the right, Junebug. You've earned it. You're not dishonoring your past by finding something beautiful in your present. You're not betraying Aaron by caring for Liam. And you're not betraying Liam by needing time to understand the mess inside you."
He gave my hand a small squeeze. "You loved deeply once. That doesn't just vanish overnight and it doesn't mean you can't love again—maybe even deeper this time, because now you know what's at stake. What matters."
I nodded through the tears, the ache in my chest loosening just enough for his words to slip through.
"Be gentle with yourself," he said, holding my gaze. "And talk to him, June. Liam's not going to run just because you're scared. He's not Aaron. Let him see your doubt. Let him hold it with you. That's what love is."
******
Later that day, I found myself standing in front of Liam's apartment, my heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and dread. As I rang the doorbell, the familiar warmth of his presence enveloped me the moment he opened the door, his smile as radiant as ever.
"Hey," he said, stepping aside so I could slip in. The scent of something warm and sweet wrapped around me immediately.
"Come on in. I was just baking. Trying a new recipe; it's basically astronomy in an apron. You've got your constants, like flour and sugar, your fixed stars. But then the variables sneak in—the way the butter melts, the dough rises kind of like how a supernova scatters elements into something entirely new."
I laughed, the tight knot in my chest loosening. "Only you could compare cookies to the death of a star."
He shot me a mock-offended look as he closed the oven door. "Hey, every dessert has its own solar system. This one's got a dense molten core, some sugary spiral arms, and—if I've got the timing right—a golden crust that could give Saturn's rings an inferiority complex."
As I stepped inside, the comforting scent of freshly baked goods filled the air. But despite the cozy atmosphere, I couldn't shake the heaviness in my heart.
Liam turned to face me, his expression shifting to one of concern. "Junie," he said gently, "I've been waiting for you to tell me what's been going on. I know you've been carrying something, something you haven't shared yet and I think it's time."
I swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. He had always been perceptive, always attuned to the subtle shifts in my mood.
"Let me guess," he continued, his voice soft but knowing. "You're starting to feel something for me, and that's messing with you. You're wondering if it's too soon, if you're betraying someone else. Am I right?"
Tears welled up in my eyes as I nodded. "Yes," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I feel so happy with you, but I can't shake the guilt. "I have to go back anyway for the studio and my job but I am scared of what would happen."
Then I told him about all those feelings of guilt and fear, Liam stepped closer, his presence grounding me. He took my hands in his, leading me to the living room where we sat down together. His touch was warm, reassuring.
"First of all," he said, his voice steady, "I want you to stop feeling guilty for having these feelings. You were with Aaron for six years. That's a significant part of your life. What you're feeling now doesn't erase that."
I nodded, grateful for his understanding.
"Second," he continued, "you've been through something traumatic. Healing isn't linear. It's okay to still have moments where the past feels close. But that doesn't mean you're stuck in it."
He paused, his gaze meeting mine with unwavering sincerity.
