Page 37 of My Only

She shook her head, her locs swaying side to side. “You just missed a whole Jerry Springer segment.”

My brows shot up. “What?”

Just then, loud commotion echoed from inside the school.

I turned toward the door. “Is it safe to go in there?”

Another teacher, Charlese, giggled. “It’s safe now. Come on.”

“Some woman showed up here less than an hour ago,” Valerie started as we stepped inside, “claiming to be Janae’s husband’s girlfriend.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “Excuse me?”

As soon as we stepped in, the air felt different.

Hushed whispers. Tension.

Hysterical crying echoed down the hallway.

It was like I had walked into an alternate universe—like someone had ripped the heart out of Park Avenue Prep.

Janae and her husband had been married for over a decade.

Their love was the kind we all admired.

She always came to work glowing and smiling, talking about him like he hung the damn moon.

She spoke highly of him—about everything he did for her and their three children.

They even had a social media presence, celebrating their marriage online.

Just last month, we all double-tapped her anniversary post, her husband, beaming, holding her hand over a candlelit dinner.

The caption?

“Still my best friend. Still my forever.”

And now?

This.

Janae’s husband regularly sent her flowers, each with tiny love notes attached.

Whenever we saw a delivery, we didn’t even have to ask who they were for.

They were always for Janae.

Always from him.

But now, as I looked up the hall, I saw her collapsed into a chair, surrounded by teachers, her shoulders trembling. Her makeup smudged. Her hair slightly disheveled. She looked shattered.

I walked over, not to ask what happened.

Just to be there for her.

Because Janae was always there for everyone else.

She was everyone’s happy place.

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