People often assumed the answer arrived immediately.

June used to think so too.

You met someone.

You liked them.

Or you didn't.

Simple.

At least in theory.

Reality turned out to be significantly less cooperative.

The truth was that June had asked herself the question many times.

More times than anyone realized.

More times than Elliot would ever know.

The first time happened years ago.

Then again.

Then again.

Sometimes after a particularly good conversation.

Sometimes after a difficult day.

Sometimes after friends made comments she pretended not to hear.

Sometimes after Elliot did something unexpectedly thoughtful and left her staring at her phone a little longer than usual.

The question always returned.

Quiet.

Patient.

Persistent.

What if?

At first, June genuinely considered it.

Not because she felt something.

Because she wondered whether she should.

Elliot was kind.

Funny.

Reliable.

Patient.

He remembered things.

He listened.

He appeared when people usually disappeared.

The list of reasons was embarrassingly long.

If she had written them down, the answer should have been obvious.

Yet every time she asked herself the question, she arrived at the same place.

Nothing.

Not dislike.

Not discomfort.

Not rejection.

Just...

Nothing.

The realization frustrated her.

For years.

Because life would have been much easier if the answer had been different.

People imagined heartbreak as wanting someone who didn't want you back.

June eventually discovered another version existed.

Sometimes heartbreak was looking at someone who deserved more than almost.

And knowing you couldn't give it to them.

No matter how hard you tried.

No matter how much time passed.

The strange thing was that time usually clarified everything.

One month.

Six months.

A year.

Feelings grew.

Or disappeared.

Changed shape.

Moved somewhere.

Four years should have been enough for something to happen.

Anything.

A spark.

A moment.

A realization.

Yet after four years, the answer remained exactly where it had always been.

Unchanged.

And perhaps that was the answer.

Not one year.

Not two.

Not a misunderstanding.

Not bad timing.

Not distance.

Four years.

Four years was long enough for people to fall in love.

Long enough to fall out of love.

Long enough to build entire lives.

If four years changed nothing, then maybe nothing was exactly what it was supposed to be.

June never hated herself for that.

Nor did she hate Elliot.

Some truths simply existed.

Beyond logic.

Beyond fairness.

Beyond choice.

This was one of them.

And for a very long time, she thought that was the end of the story.

What June didn't understand yet was that some people became important for reasons that had nothing to do with love.

And sometimes those reasons lasted much longer.