My heart stopped. The spatula slipped from my hand, clattering onto the counter as I stared at him, frozen. “Wynter…you’re awake.”
He stepped into the room, his gaze darting between me and Cahya. “I’m confused, what did you do?”
“Wyn,” I started, my voice shaking. “I can explain—”
“Explain what?” he demanded, his voice rising. “Explain why you’ve been acting so cold? Why you won’t talk to me? Jesus, What did you do, Yesoh?”
I glanced at Cahya, who gave me a pointed look before stepping back, leaving me to face Wyn alone. “The truth will set you free, little sister.”
“Yeah, but right now you’re pissing me off. Just get the fuckout,” I instructed, and he left.
“Yesoh,” Wynter demanded.
“I need you to understand that there hasneverbeen a day on earth that I have ever set out with malicious intent to hurt you,” I said, my hands shaking.
“I cannot comfort you if I don’t understand what you did,” he said, stepping back when I stepped forward. I was repelling him like a polar magnet.
“I…” My throat felt dry, my hands trembling as I tried to find the words. “I read your diary.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Wyn’s expression shattered, his brows knitting together as he took a step back. “You…what?”
“I didn’t mean to,” I said quickly, my words tumbling out in a rush. “I just… I wanted to understand you better. You’ve always been so guarded, so closed off, and I thought—”
“You thought invading my privacy was the solution?” he interrupted, his voice laced with disbelief.
“I didn’t think,” I admitted, tears streaming down my face. “I was wrong. I know I was wrong. And I’m sorry, Wyn. I’msosorry.”
“You promised me that if I taught you to skate, that you wouldn’t,” he reminded me, his voice ridden with hurt.
He looked away, his jaw clenching as he ran a hand through his hair. “How much did you read?”
“Not all of it,” I said quietly. “Just…a few pages.”
“A few pages,” he repeated, his voice hollow. “You went behind my back, read my most personal thoughts, and you’ve been hiding it from me this whole time?”
I stepped closer, my voice trembling. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to tell you. I was afraid of losing you.”
Wyn turned back to me, his eyes filled with hurt. “You should’ve been afraid of losing my trust. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to let someone in? To share myself with someone? And you just…took that choice away from me.”
His words hit like a punch to the gut, and I felt myself crumbling under the weight of his pain. “IknowI hurt you,” I said, my voice breaking. “I can’t undo what I did, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right. Please, Wyn. Please don’t give up on us.”
He stared at me for a long moment, the silence stretching between us like an unbridgeable chasm. Finally, he exhaled, his shoulders slumping.
“Do not pin this on me…” His voice trembled. “You were right.”
“About what?” I contemplated,
“You areso fucking selfish,” he seethed.
Oh my God. It was then that I realized that I had really hurt him. I’dneverseen Wynter cry before, he just seemingly never did.
It was like watching a storm unravel in slow motion, each crack of thunder not in the sky, but in his chest. His tears weren’t soft, nor were they silent—they were sharp, hot, and unyielding, falling with the weight of things too heavy to carry alone. His anger burned through them, making them shimmer like molten glass.
His face, always so composed, twisted with emotions he couldn’t contain—brows furrowed, lips trembling, jaw clenched as if holding back the tidal wave inside him. His eyes, red and brimming, weren’t asking for sympathy or comfort. They were a battleground, blazing with the fury of betrayal and the helpless ache of being exposed.
It wasn’t sadness; it was frustration distilled into something raw, unfiltered, and electric. Every tear seemed like it shouldn’t exist, as if someone like Wynter wasn’t meant to cry, especially not like this. And yet, here they were, streaking down his face in defiance of the stillness he usually carried.
“I didn’t mean—”
