Chapter 141: Even My Mom Didn’t Stay[June’s POV]
His face was still close. My lungs were refusing to breathe properly. Even my heart couldn’t stop racing.
Then, just when I swore he was about to kiss me, his hand moved.
Not to my lips.
But to my hair.
A single strand had fallen across my cheek, and he tucked it behind my ear.
His fingers brushed my skin like he was doing it on purpose.
Heck, he literally didn’t have any right to do that.
My pulse jumped.
Then, he smirked. "Wow. Look at you."
I jerked back, defensive. "What?"
"You’re shaking," he whispered. "I can’t believe you’re actually trembling."
I widened my eyes. "No, I’m not."
His grin widened. "Oh my God. You thought I was gonna kiss you, didn’t you?"
"I...what?!" My voice cracked. "Absolutely not!" My pitch went high.
"Please." His laugh came in cruel. "Don’t lie. You were literally standing here with your lips all pouty, expecting me to kiss you? Never going to happen."
My face burned. "Shut up, Han."
He leaned back just enough to look me over. "Relax, June. You’re not even my type anyways."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I go for tens," he said flatly. "Only the hot chicks. The models, cheerleaders. The kind of girls who turn heads when they walk in. Not... sarcastic nerds with mop water on their jeans."
My chest caved. That one stung more than it should have.
But hell if I was going to let him see it.
So I forced my smirk back, lifting my chin. "Good. Because the only thing worse than being your type would be lowering my standards enough to actually like you."
His brows shot up....then he broke into full blown laughter.
Loud, reckless, head thrown back laughter.
"You’re hilarious," he said between breaths. "God, you’re so easy to mess with."
I couldn’t stand it. My face, my heartbeat, my entire body was betraying me.
So, I spun around, bolted into the bathroom, and slammed the door.
My back hit the wall, and I slid down, clutching my chest like it could stop the chaos inside me.
Why was I so scared?
Was I actually... going to let him kiss me?
One more second and I would’ve folded. For Ian. For freaking Han.
And that’s terrifying.
My first kiss, the one I promised myself I’d save for Ren...was seconds from belonging to the one boy I swore I hated.
And instead of feeling proud for stopping it, all I felt was small, pathetic. Intimidated by a boy who made it very clear I wasn’t enough.
Why did he have to be so cruel, saying I’m not his type? Like I was beneath him? Why did it feel like he just ripped a piece of my self-esteem out and laughed about it?
My throat ached.
God, I hate him. I hate him so much.
So why do I feel like crying instead?
I just... want to go home.
I pressed my palms into my eyes until the sting faded. No tears. I wasn’t going to let Ian Han be the reason I cried in a bathroom like a pathetic character.
But still... his words wouldn’t leave.
Not my type.
What if he was right?
I wasn’t a cheerleader. I wasn’t one of those perfect, pretty girls with their glossy smiles. I was just June....the girl who scrubbed other people’s toilets with her dad to help pay bills?
My chest tightened.
Even Ren...God, Ren.
Was I even Ren’s type?
Ren, with his quiet smile, his steady eyes that always felt like home. He was kind to me, sure but he was kind to everyone. What if I was just...his music partner? Just a friend who tagged along?
Not someone you show off. Not someone you fall for.
My throat ached.
What if I’m never enough for anyone?
Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, but I wiped them fast.
I splashed cold water on my face until it burned, forcing the redness out of my cheeks.
When I finally stepped out of the bathroom, Ian was already dressed, like nothing had happened. Black shirt clinging to his body, chain glinting at his neck. His stupid hair fell perfectly, like he hadn’t just wrecked my entire night with one sentence.
His entire existence made me want to scream.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, shoved my hands into my jacket pockets. "I’m done," I muttered. "I’ll get going."
I reached for the door.
"June."
His voice stopped me mid-step.
I turned, masking every crack in my chest with a blank stare. I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of seeing me almost cry. "What?"
He shoved his hands into his pockets, tilting his head with that same effortless arrogance. "Should I give you a ride? I’ll drop you at the bus station."
A bitter laugh slipped out before I could stop it. "No. I don’t need anything from you."
I yanked the door open and stepped out before he could say another word. Before he could see the way I was shaking.
Out of his room. Out of his stupid house. Away from his stupid, smug face.
Immediately I walked out of the gate, the cold air outside relieved me. It felt like I could finally breathe again. But the burn in my chest didn’t go away.
Because no matter how far I walked, his words chased me.
Not my type.
And the worst part?
Somewhere deep down, I was terrified he wasn’t the only one who thought so.
By the time I reached home, my chest felt hollow, like I’d left pieces of myself on the walk back.
The front door creaked open, and the smell of fried onions and cooking oil hit me.
Dad was at the kitchen table, his glasses perched on his nose as he sorted bills under the yellow light.
He looked up immediately. "June? Welcome back, honey. I prepared something for you to eat."
I froze, trying to hide my pain. "Hi dad."
His eyes narrowed a little. Dad could always see through me. "You okay, kiddo? You look... I don’t know. Did something happen?"
My throat tightened. For a second, I wanted to spill everything. About Ian, about the stupid almost kiss, about how his words carved into me until I started doubting everything I thought I was.
But the words tangled in my chest.
Dad already carried enough...two jobs, endless bills, the weight of being both parents at once. He didn’t need to carry this, too.
So I forced a smile. "I’m fine. Just tired. Long day."
He studied me for a moment, like he didn’t believe me. But after a sigh, he nodded and went back to his papers. "Alright. Just remember, you don’t have to carry everything alone, okay?"
My chest ached at that. "Yeah. I know."
I slipped into my room before the tears could betray me.
The moment I closed my bedroom door, i crumbled.
I dropped onto my bed, face buried in the pillow, and the sobs tore out of me before I could stop them.
My shoulders shook, I cried until my throat burned, until my eyes stung, until all the insecurities Ian’s words had awakened poured out of me.
What if no one ever chooses me?
Not Ian. Not Ren. Not anyone.
Even my mom hadn’t chosen me.
Tears spilled as memories I hated most replayed.
Her packing her bags, leaving without looking back, building a whole new family somewhere else with a rich man.
A new daughter, a shiny new life. No space for me. No phone calls. No visits. Not even a birthday card.
She had left me. And she never came back.
If my own mother could walk away without blinking, what made me think anyone else would stay?
I buried my face deeper into the pillow, choking on the sobs.
Maybe Ian was right. Maybe I wasn’t anyone’s type. Not pretty enough. Not cool enough. Not worth enough.
I didn’t feel like June the chaotic sassy friend. Or June the girl who laughs too loud.
I just felt... small.
My chest ached so much it was hard to breathe.
I felt it the terrifying, fear that maybe I’d always be the girl people left behind, who was never anyone’s type.
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