The Day June Screamed
After years of waiting, Tony and June finally got the miracle they’d been dreaming of — their first child. But when June saw the baby for the first time, the hospital room exploded into chaos. Her scream shattered the air, and with it, everything Tony thought he knew about love, identity, and the heavy legacy of becoming a parent.
Tony met June when he was twenty-two. She was working part-time in a tiny coffee shop off campus — the kind that always smelled like espresso and cinnamon.
June was studying to be a nurse, taking night classes, working double shifts, and somehow still managing to smile at everyone as if exhaustion was just another language she’d learned to speak fluently.
She had this warmth about her — the kind that made people feel seen. Customers lingered just to talk to her, coworkers adored her, and Tony… well, he started pretending he needed more sugar packets just so he could go back to the counter and see her again.
June knew, of course. She’d smirk and say, “You must really like your coffee sweet, huh?”
And Tony would grin back, pretending to be casual. “Maybe I just like the company.”
By twenty-five, they were inseparable. They moved into a cramped little apartment with creaky floors and a balcony barely big enough for two chairs. The furniture didn’t match, the water turned rusty every other week, and the whole place smelled faintly of the bakery downstairs. But it was theirs — messy, noisy, alive — and they were happy.
They danced barefoot in the kitchen, argued about toothpaste caps, shared cold pizza in bed, and stayed up late dreaming about “one day.”
Two years later, they got married in Tony’s sister’s backyard — under string lights, surrounded by dollar-store decorations, sipping the cheapest wine they could find.
June had looked radiant in a pale blue dress embroidered with tiny flowers. She went barefoot on the grass and smiled up at Tony as if the whole world had finally stopped spinning just for them.
“Anthony,” she said softly, “I don’t want anything fancy. I just want something that’s like us — simple and real.”
And that’s exactly what it was.
They talked about kids from the beginning, but there was always something in the way — June’s nursing residency, Tony’s long hours at work, rent, timing.
Until one morning, June stood in the kitchen, fingers gripping the counter, eyes wet.
“June?” Tony asked, setting down his coffee. “What’s wrong?”
Her lips trembled. “I’m pregnant, Tony.”
For a moment, he froze. Then he laughed — or maybe cried — it felt like both. He pulled her into his arms, and they sank together to the kitchen floor, clinging to each other, laughing and crying at once.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
“Terrified,” she admitted, voice cracking, “but also… happy. So happy.”
“It’s all going to be okay,” he promised, kissing her forehead. “You’re going to be an amazing mom, June.”
She smiled weakly. “You really think so?”
“I know so,” he said. “And no matter what, boy or girl, as long as the baby’s healthy, we’re good.”
June hesitated then — just for a heartbeat. “Yeah… healthy,” she whispered.
He noticed that pause, but didn’t ask. He should have.
When the day finally came, everything blurred into chaos. June’s water broke just after midnight. The hospital lights were too bright; the air smelled like antiseptic and fear.
When they said her epidural wasn’t working, Tony panicked. “I should be with her,” he argued, voice breaking.
But June reached for his hand, her face pale. “Go wait outside,” she said. “I don’t want you to see me like this. Just… be there when it’s over.”
Her tone left no room for argument. He kissed her forehead and let them wheel her away.
Tony paced the hallway like a trapped animal. His parents, her parents, his sister-in-law Mae — everyone was there, whispering, waiting. He couldn’t sit down. Every nurse that walked by made his heart jump.
Then — the sound.
A baby’s cry.
Sharp, raw, perfect.
Tony froze. His knees gave out, and he whispered, “Our baby’s here.”
Relief crashed over him. Until the next sound came.
June’s scream.
“That’s not my baby! That’s not my baby!”
The entire hallway went silent. Mae gasped. “Did she just—?”
Tony didn’t wait to hear the rest. He burst through the delivery room doors.
Inside, the air felt heavy. June was trembling on the bed, drenched in sweat, eyes wide with terror. A nurse stood nearby, holding the newborn, still attached by the umbilical cord.
“Ma’am,” the nurse said softly, “this is your baby. She’s still attached to you.”
June shook her head violently. “No! You don’t understand! That’s not mine!”
Tony rushed to her side. Her hand was ice-cold.
“June,” he said gently, “look at me, love. Talk to me.”
But she couldn’t. Her eyes were locked on the baby, as if she were seeing something terrifying.
Tony turned slowly toward the nurse. The baby’s cries softened. Tiny, red-faced, her fists clenched, chest rising fast.
She was perfect.
“She’s beautiful,” Tony whispered. “She’s perfect.”
The doctor smiled. “Healthy lungs, steady heartbeat. No complications. Congratulations, Dad.”
Relief flooded him. But June didn’t look relieved. Her face was pale, eyes full of something between sorrow and fear.
“I thought it was going to be a boy,” she whispered.
“What?” Tony blinked.
“I just… I was sure. I bought blue onesies, toy cars… I even picked out a name.”
He frowned. “Why were you so sure?”
Her lip trembled. Then the truth broke out of her like a secret that had been waiting years to escape.
“Because it’s easier for boys,” she said, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Because I don’t want her to go through what I did. I don’t want her to be scared. Or feel powerless. Or grow up thinking her body is something to be ashamed of.”
Tony felt his throat tighten.
He reached for her hand. “She’s not you, June. And you’re not who you were back then. We’ll raise her to be strong — to know her worth. And if anyone ever tries to hurt her, they’ll have to get through me first.”
June’s breath hitched. “Do you promise?” she whispered. “Promise you’ll love her just as much as if she were a boy?”
“I already do,” Tony said softly. “From the moment I knew she existed.”
June leaned into him, crying quietly against his chest.
When the nurse asked if they wanted to hold the baby, Tony nodded.
She was so light it didn’t seem real. Her tiny chest rose and fell, her skin warm against his arm.
He turned to June. “Here,” he whispered. “Meet our daughter.”
June hesitated, then reached out, trembling. The moment their baby was in her arms, her face softened.
“Hi, sweetheart,” she whispered. “I’m your mom.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks, but this time, she smiled through them. “You’re perfect.”
They named her Victoria — Tori for short.
“Because she’s going to win,” June said with quiet pride. “Always.”
Six months later, Tori had June’s laugh and Tony’s stubbornness. She loved gripping things — especially June’s finger — like she was holding on to her lifeline.
One night, Tony walked past the nursery and stopped. June was standing by the crib, one hand on the railing, swaying softly. The golden nightlight wrapped the room in warmth.
“I’m sorry about that day,” June whispered to the sleeping baby. “You did nothing wrong. You were perfect. I was just scared.”
Tony froze at the door.
June’s voice trembled. “My father always told me he’d have been prouder if I’d been a boy. He said it when I cried, when I got good grades, when I just… existed. He made me believe being a girl meant being less.”
She sighed. “I remember scraping my knee once, and he said, ‘Stop crying like a girl.’ As if that was something shameful.”
Tony’s chest tightened. He’d never heard that story before.
“I didn’t want to pass that to you,” she continued. “So when I saw you, and they said you were a girl… I panicked. I thought I’d ruin you.”
She leaned over and kissed Tori’s forehead.
“But I won’t,” she whispered. “I’ll walk beside you. I’ll be there every time someone tries to make you feel small. You’ll never wonder if you’re enough. You’ll know.”
June smiled faintly, tears glistening in her eyes. “Your dad will protect us both, Victoria. I know he will.”
Tony stepped back silently, heart swelling and aching all at once.
Because she was right.
He would. Always.