I shook my head, my throat tightening again. “Nothing. I guess…I guess it didn’t matter to him. Or maybe it wasn’t enough.”
Remi opened her mouth to respond, but I held up a hand to stop her. “It’s fine,” I assured them quickly, forcing a small smile. “I think…I think it’s over between us now.”
Sydney frowned. “Are you sure? He’s probably just processing. You know how guys can be—they need time to get out of their own heads.”
“It’s been long enough,” I deadpanned, my voice trying its best to remain steady. “If he wanted to reach out, he would’ve by now.”
The table fell silent for a moment, the weight of my words settling between us.
I glanced down at the bracelet again, the silver catching the soft light. “I’ll learn to let it go,” I said finally. “I’ll make peace with this reality that my dream is over now. I will learn to care about him from afar, just like I always did. That’s how it started, anyway and apparently that’s how it’s gonna end too.”
Sydney reached across the table, placing her hand over mine. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” she said gently. “I love you, I will always stand by you. Who needs stupid boys when you have your girlfriends, hm?”
Remi nodded, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “We’re here for you, Yesoh. Always. Hell, I’ll even swear off boys for as long as you will, I’ll go celibate with you or whatever borderline cultish declaration of our friendship and solidarity I can fathom.”
I chuckled at that and managed a small, grateful smile, the tears threatening to spill over. “Thanks, guys. I mean it.”
“So what season ofSex and the Cityare you on?” Remi asked me.
“The one where Carrie can’t let go of Big and accept that she’s getting too comfortable in a cycle of toxic relationships,” I responded as the waitress brought over our food—my prawns, Sydney’s lava cake, Remi’s alfredo.
“Girl, that could damn well be any season, she never healed from that man!” Sydney pointed out.
“True. I’m on season three.” I snorted a laugh. “Who’s who from the show between us?”
“Well, Sydney is definitely Charlotte. That’s not even debatable,” Remi declared, and I clapped.
“Oh, exactly, and if you call me Carrie Bradshaw I’ll never forgive you.” I held her gaze and she glanced down guiltily.
“Well, she didn’t say it, you did, and if the shoe fits,” Sydney said with a mouthful of lava cake.
“I’ll take that as me having phenomenal taste in shoes and clothing. You should’ve gifted me a pair of Manolos instead,” I commented. “Remi if you dye your hair red, you’d be the perfect Miranda.”
We spent the rest of the evening chatting on about this and that, and somewhere along the line I realized how incredibly grateful I am to have the kind of company that I do. With good food and even better friends I was blessed beyond words.
Wynter may have been gone, but my Sydney, and now my Remi too, would always stay, even when I acted like I belonged in the psych ward.
We sat there in the quiet hum of the restaurant, their presence grounding me in a way I hadn’t felt in weeks. Maybe Wynter wouldn’t come back. Maybe he never would. But for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe again.
40
The Last Page
3RD PERSON POV
SohSoh<3: I need you Syd ASAP.
Sydney: I was just about to get a pedicure with Jax’s mom but you name it and I’ll be there.
SohSoh<3: My leotard for tonight is held up in midtown, I need you to please get it for me. I’m swamped with preparations and picking my mother up from the airport.
Sydney: Omg momma Yeo is landing today for the performance? SO excited, no problem send me the address and I’ll get it for you now.
Only for Yesoh Yeo would Sydney St James willingly perform manual labor. That girl was her world, her rock, hereverything. Sometimes she even thought she loved her more than Jax, which in her own words wasa whole lot.Yesoh rarely ever asked for help, so when she did Sydney knew she must really need it. And so she cancelled her nail appointment and raced to the station.
The subway station was alive with the chaos of the city, shoes tapping against tile, faint conversations, and the distant rumble of an approaching train. Sydney clutched the garment bag tighter as she stepped onto the platform, the sharp scent of metal and stone filling the air. The leotard inside was a masterpiece, custom-stitched from Capezio, its lines perfect for Yesoh’s lead.
But as the train roared into view, the same ache returned—the one she felt every time she looked at Yesoh’s empty smiles or heard her brush off questions about Wynter. Sydney didn’t know how much more she could take of watching her best friend hiding her anguish and balancing everything on her plate, watching her slowly unravel, her sharp edges dulled by heartbreak.
