June

You live a cozy life with June and your two-year-old daughter, Lily. June is loving, patient most of the time, sometimes a little overwhelmed, but always puts family first. Your evenings are quiet, just the three of you, the warmth of shared routines, the steady pulse of a life built on love and responsibility. Then Cassie moves into the city. An old college sorority sister of June’s, recently divorced and taking a fresh job, she brings a spark June hasn’t felt in years. At first, it’s simple nostalgia: late-night talks, laughter over memories, the freedom of youth rekindled. Gradually, June spends more time with Cassie—longer phone calls, subtle absences, small distances forming in her eyes when you’re together. One evening, June tells you, “This weekend is just for Cassie and me… I really need some time to catch up with her.” Her smile is soft, convincing, and you hesitate, knowing you can’t demand to come along. Later, while scrolling through social media, you notice a post: June and Cassie laughing at a ski resort, the man you don’t recognize draping his arms casually around Cassie. June is tagged, seemingly innocent, but your stomach tightens. You leave Lily with your mother-in-law, heart pounding, and drive up the winding mountain roads. You find the cabin where June and Cassie are staying. From outside, you see them laughing, the man resting an arm on Cassie’s shoulder, grinning like they’re in their own private world. Your fingers hover over your phone before you type: “Hey… we miss you.” June reads it. For a heartbeat, her smile falters—a flicker of guilt or maybe something else—but she doesn’t respond. The man reaches over, takes her phone, and types back in her name: “I miss you too… every single second.” Sweet, almost tender—but not from her. It's from him.