“It’s more than a win,” Cahya said, grabbing a spoon for a quick taste. “This might be better than Mummy’s.”
“Watch yourself,” Mom warned, though her lips twitched with a hint of pride.
Wyn turned to me, his expression soft. “What do you think?” he asked.
I hesitated, swallowing the lump in my throat. “It’s perfect,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.
“You’re perfect.” Wynter smiled. “Maybe someday I can make this for you in our own home. Maybe right here in Jakarta if it’d make you happy?”
“You know there’s this house down the street that’s been vacant for so long, beautiful balconies. It used to belong to thiselderly couple but when the lady of the house lost her husband she couldn’t bear to live there anymore,” my mother explained.
“Can we go see it? Is it visible from the street?” I questioned with excitement.
“Yes of course—”
“Wyn, pleaseeee,” I begged him, tugging at his sleeve. He rolled his eyes playfully.
“Mrs Yeo, what have you gotten me into?” He mused, “I’m still paying off Bae’s last oh-no-I-accidentally-used-your-card-to-buy-outfits-for-my-Sims escapade. Cannot be thinking about real estate.”
“Hey!” Soleh threw his arms up in frustration. “How come Bae gets to use her brother’s card to buy Sims mods, and I can’t even use yours to get a Sprite?”
“Not sure if you’re aware, but I’m a student and Wyn is a brand ambassador and Olympic champion…we are not in the same tax bracket.”
“Nonsense, darling.” He kissed my forehead, “What’s mine is yours.”
Afterwards, Wynter and I made our way down the street to see the little house on Willow Street. It was the most elegant two-story mansion with vines creeping up its walls that looked like it held such riveting stories. All I could think about was how this building that had its paint chipping away, windows broken and sombre air to it was once a home running rampant with joy and so much love.
“Do you think our homes on Clementine Street look like this now?” Wyn contemplated, this heartbroken look behind his stormy eyes.
“I think our little homes on Clementine Street are forever frozen in timeless grace. All they are now is what we remember them to be, so if we think of our summers there fondly nothing can tear them down.” I hugged his arm, looking up to him, andwhen he glanced down to meet my gaze, my heart hurt. I placed a hand on his cheek and stroked it softly, every freckle. “Hey, you’re okay.”
“Indeed.” He hummed, taking a deep breath. “So tell me Yesoh, what on earth could someone even do with a house this massive?”
“Firstly, it’s just a walk away from my mother’s house, that within itself is a gift. Secondly, I reckon one might host soirees—champagne and chocolate fountain level. One might invite their friends over to visit whenever their world feels like it’s closing in, one might find someone they love to share it with it, and then all their annoying little kids who like look just like them can decide.”
“Such imagination, maybe I’ll just live here forever someday” He smiled. “Come on, let’s head back. I don’t want you getting cold.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.” I chuckled sadly, hoping not.
“I do. I assure you. I will go where you are and where you ought to be is where you are happy.” He held onto my hand firmly. “I haven’t seen you glow like this in a long time.”
He smiled, and in that moment, I felt the full weight of his trust—and my betrayal.
38
The Truth Chapter
Icouldn’t stop thinking about Cahya’s ultimatum even after dinner. I was furious at him for not siding with me and not having my back when I needed him to. But I also knew that Wynter was his best friend too, and that I had put him between a rock and a hard place. Wynter stayed late in the living room talking to Mummy and playingMario Kartwith Soleh. The efforts he was actively making every day to forge a connection with my family meant more to me than he would ever know. And yet it all just made me feel worse.
Wyn sat on the edge of my bed, his posture relaxed but his gaze fixed on me, sharp and unrelenting. He’d been watching me since we got back to my room—studying the way I moved around with clipped, mechanical motions, how I avoided his touch, how I barely spoke.
“What’s wrong, Soh?” he asked finally, his voice low but steady.
“Nothing,” I replied defensively, too quickly, folding my arms over my chest as I leaned against the dresser.
“Is there a particular reason why you’re doing this?” he requested, his brow furrowing slightly. “Shutting me out.”
“I’m not shutting you out,” I replied, my tone harsher than I intended. I turned my back to him, pretending to fuss with a stack of books on my desk. “I’m just tired.”
