Meeting Her Family

I know exactly why I'm crying, but admitting it feels like admitting defeat. It's because of June. Because of everything that we've shared—the time we've spent together, the quiet moments, the fleeting connection—and yet, it feels like it was never enough. We never grew close enough to bridge the gap between us, but still, the thought of never seeing him again hurts more than I ever expected.

I wipe my face with the back of my hand, trying to regain control. It's just a feeling, I tell myself. A fleeting moment. It's nothing.

But it isn't nothing.

The truth is, the ache inside me is sharp. It's the ache of leaving everything behind, of moving toward something that could finally bring me closer to my family, but knowing I'm leaving something else behind in the process. I never expected it to hurt this much. Not with June, of all people.

He was just someone I crossed paths with. Someone who happened to be there, someone who was kind when I needed it. We had our moments, sure, but it wasn't like we were family. It wasn't like we had anything deep between us.

And yet, this hurt.

I swallow the lump in my throat and take a shaky breath. I can't afford to feel like this. Not now. Not when everything is still so uncertain, when there's still so much I need to do. I need to keep moving. I need to find my family. I can't get stuck in this—this sadness, this longing, whatever it is.

But as I stand in the dim light of the lantern, the silence of the garage pressing in on me, I know that a part of me will always carry this ache. This feeling that no matter how far I go, no matter where I end up, something will always be missing.

"Grace…"

Julian's voice is barely a whisper, yet it carries a weight of something unspoken, something heavy, as he watches her lying still in the hospital bed. It's 9 PM, the second night of his vigil at her bedside, and despite the stillness of the room, there's a tension in the air, like something is suspended just out of reach. Grace's face remains serene, but her tears continue to fall, slipping down her cheeks in delicate streams. The sight makes Julian's chest tighten.

Is she dreaming? Is it the same dream she's been having since the accident, that dream where she's caught between two worlds, one foot still in the present, the other in some distant memory or reality?

His brows furrow as he leans in closer, trying to read the faintest flicker of movement beneath her eyelids, some sign that she's still there with him. He feels it—though Grace's body lies here, so still and fragile, a part of her seems to exist somewhere else. Somewhere beyond his reach. Somewhere outside this room. The feeling is almost tangible, and for a brief moment, Julian wonders if she even knows he's here, watching over her.

But before he can linger too long in that thought, the hospital room door creaks open softly, breaking the spell. 

Julian looks up as two figures enter, their faces filled with sorrow, their eyes already brimming with unshed tears. 

A man and a woman, both older, their expressions reflecting the deep weight of grief and worry.

Julian stands quickly, his chair scraping across the floor with a quiet sound. He watches as they approach Grace's bed, their steps slow and hesitant, as if walking on eggshells.

"Oh, Grace…" the woman whispers, her voice cracking with emotion. 

She places a trembling hand on Grace's, her fingers lingering on the cold skin. Her breath hitches in her throat, and Julian can see the deep pain etched into her face.

The man, who stands behind her, reaches out and places a gentle hand on the woman's shoulder, his face a mask of sadness. Julian can already tell—there's something in the way they move, something in the way they hold themselves—that these must be Grace's aunt and uncle.

The woman looks up at him then, her eyes filled with curiosity, and perhaps a hint of confusion.

"Who are you?" she asks, her voice trembling slightly, as she wipes at the corner of her eyes.

Julian straightens, offering a polite nod, his manners ingrained in him, despite the weight of his own sorrow. Though he's younger than them, he respects them, as he does anyone older. His own age has never quite aligned with the life experiences that others have, and so he remains careful around them, giving them the respect they deserve.

"Hi, I'm Julian Lenter," he says, his voice steady, but it carries an undertone of hesitation, as if he's unsure how to explain himself to them. His gaze flickers briefly to Grace's peaceful face, the unconscious expression frozen on her features. "I'm Grace's…" he trails off, not quite knowing how to finish that sentence. 

The man's eyes narrow slightly, a touch of curiosity in his gaze. 

"Are you… Grace's boyfriend?" he asks, his tone blunt but not unkind.

Julian feels the familiar sting of a word that has both comforted and confused him. 

Boyfriend. 

He nods, slowly, almost imperceptibly.

"Yes," he replies, his voice soft but firm.

There's a pause. The aunt and uncle exchange a glance, one that seems to carry a moment of surprise, followed by a silent understanding. They hadn't expected this, Julian can tell.

"I see," the woman says, her voice quieter now, as if absorbing the weight of the revelation.

Julian, sensing the tension that has suddenly filled the room, offers them a respectful smile, his gaze shifting back to Grace. His heart aches seeing her this way—so distant, so unreachable.

"I'll leave you two to be with her," he says, his voice low but polite. "I'll be outside if you need anything."

He walks toward the door, his steps measured, careful. He pulls his coat from the hanger by the door, the soft rustle of fabric filling the otherwise quiet room. He slips the coat on and turns toward the door, glancing back at Grace one last time, as if saying a silent goodbye.

Closing the door gently behind him, Julian stands in the hallway for a moment, taking in the air of the hospital—cold, sterile, but filled with the heavy pulse of life and loss.

He leans against the wall, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his mind racing with thoughts. 

"So, they're Grace's aunt and uncle…" he murmurs to himself.

To give Grace's family some space, Julian decides to step out. He quietly walks to the rooftop, his footsteps muffled by the thick, quiet layer of snow. When he opens the door, the freezing wind greets him with a sharp chill, but the rooftop is empty—no one dares to venture up in this cold. The city below stretches out, covered in a blanket of snow, the lights twinkling faintly against the gray of dusk.

Julian pulls his coat tighter around him, hands buried deep in his pockets. He walks to the edge of the rooftop, his gaze wandering over the city below. The streets are still, almost silent, save for the occasional crunch of snow beneath distant footsteps.

It's this winter again, he thinks quietly, looking out at the cityscape, the memories flooding back in waves. 

This winter, when I first parted ways with Hannah… He closes his eyes for a moment, the cold air biting at his face. Or with Grace, should I say…

It feels like a lifetime ago, yet everything about this moment is achingly familiar. The biting cold. The snow. The silence.

He remembers the winter when Hannah left the Society. The way she walked out the door, determined to find her family in Costan, a place so distant and difficult to reach. Julian had acted like it didn't affect him, like he was fine, like he was cool with it. But deep down, he knew the truth. 

That's when I knew that I missed her more than I realized, he thinks, exhaling a shaky breath into the cold.

It was during those months that he'd discovered just how deep his feelings for her ran, how much she had quietly, unknowingly, occupied a corner of his heart.

A faint, bittersweet smile touches his lips. He chuckles softly to himself, a quiet, self-deprecating sound. 

I was always the late one, he murmurs, almost to himself. And now... I'm waiting for you, Grace...

He lets the silence swallow the rest of his words, his gaze fixed on the endless sea of snow, as if searching for some kind of answer in the white expanse.

That's when his phone rings, breaking the quiet moment. He pulls it from his pocket and sees Eugene's name flashing on the screen. Julian sighs, mentally shifting gears as he answers the call.

"Hi, Eugene," he says, his voice a little muffled by the chill.

Eugene's cheerful voice bursts through the phone almost immediately, as if his energy couldn't be contained by the distance between them.

"Hey, June, how's everything? You didn't forget that this Saturday's my wedding, right?"

Julian blinks, his mind momentarily blank. 

The wedding. It's this Saturday.