Page 75 of June
When she finally fell asleep, utterly spent and trembling in my arms, her ring caught the moonlight, glinting like a distant satellite, a tiny piece of the universe now hers. I stroked her hair, tracing her celestial curves, and felt the quiet afterglow of a supernova of passion, love, and devotion.
And now, the morning after, I hold my love in my arms, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against mine, as ifthe universe itself had folded into this single perfect moment. Every worry, every shadow of the past, fell away, leaving only the warmth of her, the certainty of us. I imagine a life ahead painted in starlight—dancing in the quiet of our living room, chasing sunsets, whispering secrets under endless skies, loving each other fiercely and tenderly, every single day.
My wife. My love. My forever. The center of my story, the brightest star in my sky.
Epilogue 2
My name is June. I am one of the odd ones. The dancer, the blonde, the girl who could lose herself in music until the world blurred at the edges. I've known pain in ways that still echo in my bones, crying on my mother's grave, clinging to my father's arms, moving away just to find myself again. I learned to stand tall, even when my knees were trembling, and then, somehow, as if the universe was finally done testing me, I met the love of my life.
Liam—my man of stars and galaxies. Sweet, endlessly kind, a dreamer who could talk about constellations for hours., and yet, when it's just the two of us, when the door closes and the world fades, he becomes fire itself—fierce, dominant, utterly consuming. I love every side of him. I love how he loves me: tenderly in the morning light, playfully in the afternoons, andwith a passion that steals my breath at night. With him, I've never had to question if I am cherished.
Almost three years into our marriage, we're finally awaiting the greatest gift—the tiny life we created together. Our moonbaby, due in just two weeks, and I'm in these final days of being spoiled by Liam, my dad, and—surprisingly—my dad's wife. Yes, wife. Who would have thought that at my wedding, my father would find his second chance at love? With one of the odd ones, no less. They've weathered storms—grief, mistakes, choices that nearly broke them. My father, especially, stumbled through darkness of his own making: words that cut too deep, actions that left scars, shame and guilt that weighed on him like chains. None of it can ever be excused. And yet, somehow, they didn't let it be the end of them. They are not the only ones who are no longer alone.
A few months after my wedding, I went back to the city. Alice was celebrating her engagement, and of course I wouldn't miss it. What I didn't expect was to see Aaron again. It had been almost three years since we'd last spoken. Seeing him there, across the room, was strange. He looked... good. Happy.
He came over, smiling a little nervously.
"Hi, June."
"Hi, Aaron," I said, feeling oddly calm. "It's been a long time."
"Yeah," he nodded, eyes soft. "How've you been?"
I lifted my hand, showing him the ring that glittered under the lights. "I got married."
For a moment his face was still, and then it broke into the warmest, most genuine smile. "That's... amazing, June. I'm so happy for you."
"What about you?" I asked gently.
His eyes brightened, and to my surprise, he looked almost shy. "Well... I'm a dad now. To a beautiful little girl."
"Oh my God." I couldn't help but beam.
"Yeah," he chuckled softly, shaking his head at the memory, as if still amused by his own fate. "It was... unexpected. After we parted, I buried myself in work and family, stayed single for nearly a year. I thought maybe that was it for me, that I'd just settle into routine and keep my heart locked up. Then one night, in the most random café, I ended up arguing with this gorgeous woman about coffee beans."
His eyes lit up, a boyish grin breaking across his face, the kind that softened the lines of grief etched there. "We couldn't agree on anything—she swore dark roast was the only roast worth drinking, and I told her she was basically sipping burnt ash. She told me I had no taste buds. We laughed until our sides hurt, until the barista had to tell us to quiet down. That laughter... it stuck with me. It was like I hadn't laughed like that in years, maybe since..." He stopped, clearing his throat before the sentence could finish.
"We started dating—casually, at first. Nothing serious. Just dinners, walks, those stupid debates about everything from movies to which side of the bed was better. But then, well..." He rubbed the back of his neck, half-embarrassed, half-proud."The first night we were together, she got pregnant."
I gasped softly, but his voice softened, turned reverent.
"It wasn't easy. We thought we'd just co-parent, keep things practical. I moved in to help—with the bills, the endless chores, her difficult pregnancy. At first it was duty, responsibility. But then..." He paused, eyes distant, as if replaying every small moment. "I'd find myself watching her sleep on the couch, her hand resting over her belly, and feel this ache I couldn't name. I started noticing how she'd wrinkle her nose when she laughed, or how she'd sing to the baby even when she was exhausted. Slowly, I realized I wasn't just staying for her, or even for the baby. I wantedher. Her joy became mine. Her struggles became mine. Every day I wanted to see her smile, to make life easier, brighter for her. That's when I knew."
His voice thickened slightly, and he smiled through it.
"I never thought I'd feel something like that again. That deep, steady kind of love that sneaks up on you, not with fireworks, but with a thousand quiet moments. I wanted to build a life with her—not because I had to, but because I couldn't imagine life without her."
He paused, rubbing the back of his neck, grinning almost boyishly, like the weight of the memory still warmed him. "We gave dating a real chance, and it just... felt right. Natural. Like I'd been walking in the dark and suddenly someone turned the lights on. When our little girl took her first steps, I was already carrying the ring in my pocket. I knew then that I wanted every step of my life to be with them. That same night, I asked her to marry me." His grin widened, his eyes shining. "And she said yes. We're engaged now. And honestly? I'm overwhelmed with joy. Sometimes I look at them—her holding our daughter—and I wonder how I got so lucky. I don't take a second of it for granted."
My heart softened, truly and deeply, melting at the honesty in his voice. "Aaron... I'm so happy for you. I really am." The words felt easy, natural, because I meant them.
He nodded, his throat bobbing as if he, too, was holding back something tender. For a long moment, silence wrapped around us, not heavy but gentle, filled with everything unspoken.
We both knew what lingered beneath the surface: once, there had been something between us. A chapter—fleeting, fiery, imperfect, but real. It mattered then. But life had carried us forward, shaping us, stretching us, softening us until we'd grown into the people we were always meant to become and in that growth, we had found our true callings—not in each other, but in the ones who became our soulmates. Different paths, but both leading to where love had finally taken root.
And that, I thought as I watched him laugh across the room later, was its own kind of miracle. The man I once knew in fragments—messy, searching, restless—was now standing in the glow of a different life. He was on FaceTime, angled toward the back of the room, speaking to a beautiful woman holding a baby. His laughter carried across the space, warm and unguarded.
When the call ended, he tucked his phone into his pocket and caught me smiling. "What?" he teased.
