June stepped onto the stage, her heels clicking against the polished floor as applause erupted from the audience. Bright studio lights beamed down on her, but the heat she felt wasn't from them, it was from the rising tension in her chest.
She scanned the set, her gaze landing on the three guests seated before her. A mother. A daughter. A husband.
She exhaled slowly.
Deep breath, June. Deep breath. No matter what they say, don't take it personally.
She settled into her seat, crossing her legs gracefully as the cameras rolled. The familiar red light blinked, signaling that they were live.
She forced a smile and began, reading straight from the script:
"I'd like to start by apologizing for my reaction last session. I was dealing with some emotional sickness, like a cycle."
Her mouth twisted slightly as she said the words aloud. Who wrote this garbage? She flicked a subtle glance toward Liam, the show's scriptwriter, who was standing just off-camera. He gave her a thumbs-up, looking proud of himself.
June rolled her eyes.
It sounded unnatural, forced. But she had to move forward.
She turned to the guests, her focus sharpening.
"So, to continue from where we left off… Sarah, your husband mentioned that you were abandoned by your mother at a very young age. Can you tell us more about that?"
Sarah nodded, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her eyes softened as she turned to glance at her husband beside her, drawing strength from his presence.
"It's true," she said, her voice even. "My mother left me at the front gate of an orphanage when I was four. She never came back. Never looked for me. I was one of the children who outgrew the adoption window. I spent years watching other kids leave with families, but my name was never called."
A heavy pause.
She smiled faintly, a bittersweet expression.
"But then, my life took a turn. My husband came into my world and changed everything. He lifted me up when I had nothing. He gave me love, a home, a family. He made me feel wanted when no one else did."
Her husband reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
June felt a pang in her chest.
At least she found love somewhere.
Then, she turned to the mother.
"And Miss Stella," she said, her tone cooling. "After abandoning your daughter, did you ever think about coming back for her?"
Stella didn't flinch. Didn't shift in her seat. She met June's gaze with a blank, unreadable expression.
"I was young," she said, her voice completely void of emotion. "Immature. Broke. I couldn't take care of her, so I left her where she would be safe. The orphanage seemed like the best place."
Not a single blink.
Not a single trace of regret.
June's nails dug into her palm beneath the table. She could feel Liam off-camera, probably waving his arms wildly, urging her to stick to the script. But she was done with the script.
"You were twenty years old and employed," June said, her voice steady but pointed. "I don't see why you couldn't take care of your daughter. I've seen younger mothers fight through hell and back to protect their children. So what made you different?"
Stella exhaled sharply, irritation flashing across her face. "It's true that I abandoned my daughter at an orphanage." Then, she raised a brow and scoffed. "So what? I'm back now, aren't I?"
The audacity.
June's entire body felt like it had been set on fire. Her pulse hammered in her ears, her skin prickling with heat.
Oh, f**k the coaching. F**k the 'stay neutral' script.
Sarah turned to her, her expression knowing. "I can tell what you're thinking," she said quietly. "Your blood's boiling. Your hands are itching to slap some sense into her."
She wasn't wrong.
"I felt the same way," Sarah admitted, her tone surprisingly calm. "When she first came back, I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to throw her out. I knew why she returned, it wasn't for me. It was for a roof over her head, a comfortable life."
The audience murmured in agreement.
June's brows furrowed. "Then why let her stay?"
Sarah's lips pressed together. "Because I did it for myself."
June narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"
Sarah took a deep breath. "Holding onto hate, it was only hurting me. Every time I thought about what she did, I was the one who felt sick. I was the one losing sleep. I realized that I didn't want to spend the rest of my life bitter and angry. So, I let her in, not because she deserved it, but because I deserved peace."
Silence fell over the set.
The audience, the crew, even Liam, everyone was listening.
June stared at her, a mixture of admiration and disbelief swirling inside her.
Is she a saint? Or just foolish?
"Do you think your mother deserves your kindness?" June asked carefully.
Sarah hesitated, then shook her head. "No."
That one word sent a wave of shock through the room. Even Stella's composure faltered slightly.
"She doesn't deserve it," Sarah continued, her voice unwavering. "But I refuse to let her steal anything else from me, not my happiness, not my peace."
June leaned back slightly, absorbing her words.
She still didn't know if she agreed with Sarah's choice. She hated people like Stella, parents who walked away without a second thought. But looking at Sarah, at her strength, her resilience… June couldn't help but respect her.
By the end of the show, she did her job. She played the role of the host, guiding them toward some semblance of reconciliation. She talked Sarah's husband into accepting Stella, strengthening their marriage in the process.
And when the cameras finally cut, when the applause faded, June sat there, staring at Sarah.
She had patched up their broken family.
But deep inside, she still couldn't decide if it was the right thing to do.
….
James leaned against Dave's desk, his arms crossed, his smirk teasing.
"So, your competition is high, huh?" he quipped, his voice laced with amusement.
Dave barely looked up from his paperwork, but his jaw twitched.
James, however, wasn't one to drop a subject easily. "I saw him once. Rolland, right? Honestly, the guy's got the full package, young, rich, educated, built like a damn hero. The type women go crazy over." He let out a dramatic sigh. "And"
His words cut short as Dave shot him a glare sharp enough to send him straight to the emergency ward.
James coughed, adjusting his tie. "I'm just saying, man. You should be careful how you let him around your girl. One morning, you might wake up and, poof! She's gone."
Dave pressed two fingers against his temple, massaging away the irritation. "Will you shut up?"
James grinned. "I'm just"
"Out," Dave ordered, gesturing toward the door.
"Come on, I was just being honest"
"Out."
James sighed dramatically but didn't move. "Fine, fine. I won't say a word." He crossed his fingers over his chest in mock sincerity.
Before Dave could throw something at him, the office door swung open, and a nurse burst in, breathless.
"Dr. James, your attention is needed."
James frowned. "What's wrong?"
The nurse shifted awkwardly before lowering her voice. "You, uh… you probably want to come out here yourself."
Both men exchanged looks before stepping out of the office.
The moment they did, their ears were assaulted by the shrill sound of women's voices arguing.
James groaned. "Oh, no…"
At the far end of the hallway, three women, each probably in their late fifties, were in a heated exchange.
"You again?" one woman scoffed, rolling her eyes dramatically as she clutched a glittering purse to her chest. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to see my boyfriend," another snapped, crossing her arms.
A collective gasp rippled through the hospital staff and onlookers.
Dave folded his arms, watching the scene unfold with mild amusement. "Wow. I thought you were exaggerating about your sugar mom problem," he muttered.
James palmed his forehead.
He had been dodging these women for days, cutting off their calls, ignoring their texts, and even switching off his phone entirely. He had finally found someone, someone real, and he wanted nothing to do with the casual flings of his past.
But of course, they had to show up at his workplace, embarrassing him in front of his colleagues.
James sighed, rubbing his face. "Alright, buddy. Got any suggestions?"
Dave smirked. "Your mess. You clean it up."
Before James could respond, the women spotted him.
And just like that, he was ambushed.
Three pairs of hands latched onto his arms, tugging at him from different directions, each trying to stake their claim.
"You've been avoiding me," one whined, pouting her wine-colored lips.
"You're mine," another declared, tightening her grip.
"I'm the one who spoils you," the third snapped, elbowing the other two.
James barely managed to pull himself free, taking a step back to regain balance. "What the hell are you all doing here?"
"You weren't answering our calls!"
"That was intentional," he shot back coldly. "I don't want anything to do with any of you."
One of the women scoffed. "Oh, please. We both know you'll come back."
"Not this time." James exhaled sharply. "I've told you, I have a girlfriend now."
Silence.
A collective gasp rippled through the audience.
The nurses, doctors, and staff, who had long labeled James as the hospital's certified casanova, stared in stunned disbelief.
His ex-lovers, however, weren't so impressed.
"You think you can just quit us like that?" one of them sneered. "Oh, honey, no. Not without our permission."
James was about to argue when a voice cut through the air like a blade.
"Trust me, you'll have to. Because I'll leave you no choice."
The crowd turned.
A young woman stood a few feet away, her hands tucked into her pockets, her expression unreadable. She was smiling, ironically, given the ice in her tone.
James' heart dropped.
Jane.
She had come looking for him.
But not because she missed him.
Because she had walked in on this mess.
The older women turned to her, eyes narrowing.
"And who the hell are you?"
Jane stepped forward smoothly, slipping between James and the chaos. She tilted her head, her gaze steady.
"His girlfriend," she said simply.
The word sliced through the tension like a razor.
James held his breath.
The older women visibly bristled.
"Listen, grandma," Jane continued, her voice laced with saccharine politeness. "I'm being nice here. Take it and leave. Or else."
She pulled out her phone, waving it in the air dramatically.
The sugar moms' eyes widened.
They knew.
They all knew.
A video of them brawling over a man young enough to be their son? That was not something their social circles would forgive.
The hesitation only lasted a moment before, one by one, they huffed, flipped their hair, and stomped toward the exit.
The crowd snickered as they vanished.
James exhaled in relief. "Jane, I"
"Don't."
His stomach sank.
Jane took a step back, her arms crossing. "I was worried about you, James. You weren't answering my calls. I thought you were sick, or" she paused, clenching her jaw. "But this? This is what I walked into?"
James reached for her hand, but she pulled away.
"I swear I've changed," he said desperately.
Jane shook her head. "I don't think you have."
Then, without another word, she turned, heading for the hospital doors.
James chased after her, calling her name, but before he could reach her, a yellow cab pulled up, and she stepped inside.
The door slammed shut.
The cab pulled away.
And James was left standing there, watching her disappear.
"Damn," Dave muttered from behind him. "That was brutal."
James ran a hand down his face.
Brutal didn't even begin to cover it.
….
The cold evening air clung to June's skin as she stepped into the dimly lit hospital room. The scent of antiseptic and faint traces of medicine lingered, adding to the suffocating silence between her and the man lying in the bed.
Mr. Abdul
Her father.
A father who had once been the center of her world. A father who had left her behind without a second glance.
He looked older now, frailer. His once strong frame had withered, his hands trembling slightly as they rested on the sheets. The weight of time had taken its toll on him, but for June, the scars he had left behind in her life ran far deeper than any physical decay he suffered.
She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "I know you don't want to see me," she said, her voice even, yet laced with something raw. "But I came anyway. Because I need an answer."
Her father's gaze lifted to her, his weary eyes narrowing slightly.
After the show, after Sarah's words had settled into her mind, June had realized something, she had spent years punishing herself for a crime she never committed. She had spent too long trying to prove his choice wrong, carrying the unbearable burden of his rejection.
But why?
Why continue to hold onto a wound that refused to heal?
"Why did you leave?"
The question cut through the still air like a blade.
June stood firm, her eyes never wavering from his face. The man who had once been a source of warmth and protection now seemed small, shrinking under the weight of a past he could no longer outrun.
His fingers twitched, clutching at the bedsheet, but he said nothing.
"When you left," she continued, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her, "did you ever think of me? Did you ever think to come back?"
Silence.
Her chest rose and fell with the weight of unsaid words.
"Why did you choose to break our family? Why did you choose to break my heart? The dreams I had, the hopes I carried, why did you shatter them like they meant nothing?"
Her voice cracked.
She clenched her fists, forcing herself to hold back the tears burning at the edges of her resolve.
"Answer me, Mr. Abdul." She spat his name out like it was foreign on her tongue. "Why did you leave without a trace?"
The quiet stretched between them, suffocating.
And then
"June, that's enough!"
The voice came sharp and stern from the doorway.
Samantha.
Her sister rushed inside, her expression tight with frustration. "Can't you see his condition? He's barely holding himself together, and this is the time you choose to throw accusations at him?"
June let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Should I care?"
Samantha stiffened.
June's gaze flickered back to the frail man on the bed. "For years, I carried the weight of his choices. The trauma of his rejection. Do you really expect me to look at him now and care?"
Samantha exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. "He's unwell. If you want answers, then wait. Not now. Not when he's like this."
June scoffed at the hypocrisy.
Their father had abandoned her without hesitation.
Yet, she was expected to show patience? To wait for a convenient time to ask why her life had been torn apart?
But before she could argue, a weak voice cut through the tension.
"Let her ask, Sammy."
Both sisters turned as their father shifted slightly in bed. His voice was hoarse, but steady.
"I want to give her answers," he continued, looking at June with something almost like regret. "But I don't think I have any good ones."
June swallowed the lump in her throat, her nails digging into her palms.
"No matter what I say," he admitted, his voice filled with quiet defeat, "it won't be enough to make up for everything you went through. I know I hurt you, and for that…"
He exhaled, the weight of his words pressing into the space between them.
"I'm sorry."
That was it?
That was all?
June stood there, staring at the man who had disappeared from her life all those years ago, and now, after all the pain, all the grief, he thought sorry would be enough?
Her heart twisted violently in her chest.
She had craved this moment.
For so long, she had imagined the satisfaction she would feel upon hearing him admit his mistakes.
But now that the words had been spoken…
Why did she still feel so empty?
Where was the sense of justice she thought she'd find?
Why wasn't she at peace?
Her father looked at her with tired, pleading eyes.
"I'm sorry, princess."
Princess.
The name she had longed to hear again.
The name that once made her feel loved.
But now?
It was just another reminder of what she had lost.