Wynter glanced up from his screen, his brow furrowing as he turned toward us. “What news?”
Cahya grinned, obviously enjoying the suspense. “She got the lead role inThe Rite of Spring.”
Wynter blinked, momentarily stunned. His gaze shifted back and forth between Cahya and me, as if trying to process what he had just heard. “Wait, what?” He looked at me, his expression suddenly serious. “You got the lead?”
I swallowed, the words suddenly harder to say than I thought they’d be. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “Madame announced it this morning.”
Wynter’s face lit up with a wide smile, but there was a flicker of confusion, too. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I felt my chest tighten as I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “I didn’t think it was that deep,” I muttered, trying to brush it off. “You’ve been so busy with everything else.”
Cahya, noticing the shift in the atmosphere, leaned forward, his eyes flicking back and forth between the two of us. “Shedidn’t think you’d have time to care,” he said bluntly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And that’s not the kind of thing I want to hear from my sister, Kwon.”
Wynter’s smile faltered, and the warmth in his eyes dimmed. He shifted slightly, looking at me more closely. “You didn’t think I’d care?” he asked, his voice softer now, tinged with something that sounded like hurt. He reached out a hand for me as I sat down on the arm of the chair beside him. He wrapped an arm around my middle looking up at me.
I froze, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on me. My stomach churned. I hadn’t meant it like that, but the words had come out wrong.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” I said quickly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I just didn’t want to add more to your plate. You’ve had so much going on lately, and I didn’t want to take up more of your time.”
There was a long silence, the air thick with tension. Wynter’s eyes searched mine, trying to read me, and I could see the hurt slowly settling in his expression. He shifted on the couch, taking a deep breath. “Yesoh, I’m always going to have time for you. You know that, right?” His voice was low, a quiet ache beneath the words.
I felt the lump in my throat tighten, and I nodded, but it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough to fix the distance that had crept in between us.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked again, quieter this time.
“I didn’t want to seem like I was bothering you,” I said, my voice cracking just slightly. “I know you’ve been dealing with so many shoots, and training the first years, and everything with the team, and practice and…all of it. I just…didn’t want to make it harder.”
Wynter looked at me, his gaze softening but still full of the hurt I hadn’t meant to cause. “You couldneverbe a bother to me, Yesoh. You are the weight that I choose, the one that anchors and steadies me, not weighs me down,” he said, his voice strained. “And you don’t need to hide things from me, no matter how busy I am.” He took a deep breath, his eyes searching mine, filled with a quiet vulnerability. “I should be the first person you want to share your successes with. I’m sorry if I didn’t make you feel that way.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but the words stuck in my throat. All I could do was look at him, feeling the weight of his words settle between us. He was right. I should have told him. I should have made the space for him, for us, instead of convincing myself that he was too busy for me.
Cahya, sensing the growing tension, sighed loudly and stood up. “Alright, alright. I’m going to let you two work this out. You’re both hopeless,” he muttered with a smirk, clearly not bothering to hide his amusement. “Call me when the dramatic tension ends and when I return my sister better be smiling or we will have an issue.”
As Cahya left the room, I turned back to Wynter, my heart heavy.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice small. “I just… I didn’t want to make you feel like you’re failing me. You’re already doing so much.”
Wynter shook his head slowly, his hand reaching out to take mine. “You’re my priority, darling.”
The warmth of his hand in mine was grounding, and for the first time in a while, the space between us started to close. I leaned into him slightly, letting out a quiet breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.
“I promise, I’ll do better,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “My sweet girl, I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks, me too,” I said softly, squeezing his hand in return. “We’ll do better.”
In that moment, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. There were no quick fixes, no immediate answers. But this—us—was worth the effort, and maybe, just maybe, we’d both learn to make space for each other again.
The studio was rampant with conversations and the clicking of high-end cameras, capturing every angle of my boyfriend as he posed in front of the lights. It was a world of luxury that I could’ve never imagined for myself, glistening diamonds, polish, gold, and silk fabric that felt so distant from my reality. And yet here I was, sitting on the edge of a sleek chair, feeling like a fly on the wall as I watched Wynter doing what he did best.
Today’s shoot was for this high-end Swiss luxury jewellery brand called Clayton’s, and Wynter was to be the centerpiece. He spoke of how the owners of the brand had contacted his manager directly and begged him to model for the look. In their words, there was no other model they could’ve possibly envisioned or wanted. They said something about how he perfectly bridged the line between masculinity and femininity in a way that would bring the diamonds to life.
They had dressed them in this expensive tailored suit—the kind of fabric that cost more than one could ever imagine. Around his neck was an intricate silver chain, a pendant with a massive diamond that caught the light. On his wrist, an elegant watch that gleamed with quiet opulence. But it was the rings thatornamented his long, slender fingers etched out, gleaming with diamonds and encrusted elegance.
I’ve always been absolutely captivated by how he manages to move through the world so effortlessly unshackled by the labels others try to hold over his head. One moment he’s in a sharp suit, commanding attention, and the next he’s wearing a tiara. He doesn’t try to fight the rules. He simply knows that he exists beyond them.
His gender, his self expression, is a river that moves with such ease and fluidity, like a second skin. He is simply just who he is, take it or leave it, and all my life I have yearned for that very freedom to simply just be myself without boundaries, without fear, without apology.
The makeup artist fluttered around him, touching up his face with delicate glitters, a soft, gentle touch that enhanced his already striking features. ? I couldn’t help but take a few pictures of him myself with my new camera. But then the stylist, clearly getting carried away enjoying herself, placed a delicate tiara on his head, the silver and diamond sparkling against the dark of his hair. He froze for a second at the choice, then he looked at the stylist with a curious brow.
