Did you even flip to the last page?
Wynter sat down slowly, the chair creaking beneath him. His hands hovered over the scrapbook for a moment, trembling slightly, before he opened it.
The first page greeted him with a photo of himself at fifteen, braces still on his teeth, a medal around his neck. He’d seenit before, but this time, the caption beneath it caught his eye: Wynter’s first medal. The beginning of everything.
He turned the pages more slowly now, his chest tightening with each memory. His first senior win, his first sponsorship, candid shots of him laughing with Cahya and Soleh. Each page felt heavier than the last.
Finally, he reached the end.
The last page was blank, except for a folded piece of paper taped to the center. His breath caught in his throat as he carefully peeled it free, unfolding it with trembling hands.
Her handwriting was familiar—slightly messy, the lines slanting upward as if she’d written it in one long, unbroken thought.
Wynter’s vision blurred as the words sank in. His chest tightened, and a lump formed in his throat, but he didn’t fight it. The weight of what he’d just read, of what it meant, pressed down on him like the air had been stolen from the room.
She had loved him all along. Through every win, every loss, every moment in between. She had seen him—not just the skater, not just the boy chasing dreams, but him.
And he had been too blind, too stubborn, too afraid to see it.
The tears came suddenly, hot and silent, streaking down his cheeks as he stared at the letter. His hands shook as he set it down carefully, his heart pounding in his chest.
He loved her.
The realization hit him like a wave, overwhelming and undeniable. Helovedher now, maybe always had, and he’d let his own pride and fear get in the way of seeing it.
Wynter wiped his face roughly, standing with new determination. He grabbed his phone, dialing the number he knew by heart.
“Bae,” he said as soon as she answered.
“What’s up, frostbite?” she replied, her usual teasing tone making him roll his eyes.
“I need your help,” he said quickly. “It’s about Yesoh.”
There was a pause on the other end before she said, “You’re finally pulling your head out of your ass?”
“Something like that,” he muttered.
“I’m in,” she said without hesitation. “What’s the plan?”
That evening, Bae and Beck sat at Wynter’s kitchen table, surrounded by poster boards, glitter pens, markers, and tape.
“This is such a middle school move,” Bae said, grinning as she uncapped a hot pink marker. “But honestly? I’m here for it.”
“You’re here for the glitter,” Beck said dryly, shaking her head as she sketched out block letters on a poster board.
Bae didn’t deny it, sprinkling gold glitter over the words YESOH IS THE LEAD in loopy script. “I just think if we’re going to embarrass ourselves, we might as well go all out.”
Wynter sat across from them, carefully coloring in the letters on his own poster. He had barely spoken, his focus entirely on the task at hand.
“So,” Beck said after a moment, glancing up. “What’s the plan after this? You just wave these around and hope she forgives you?”
Wynter looked up, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know if she’ll forgive me. But I have to try. She deserves that much.”
Bae set down her glitter pen, leaning forward. “And what are you going to say? You can’t just show up with a sparkly poster and expect her to fall into your arms, Wyn.”
“I’ll tell her the truth,” he said simply. “That I was wrong. That I was stupid. That I love her.”
“My big brother is in love.” Bae dabbed at her eyes. “With a real life girl, this can’t be true.”
