Two days later, we all went out for dinner at Trudy’s Diner, hoping to distract ourselves with laughter and an obnoxiously loud conversation. I sat wedged between Jiwon and Cahya in a booth, with Wynter and Hannah on the other side. From the moment we arrived, she had her hand on his arm, laughing at every little thing he said, leaning in close enough that I could practically smell her perfume from where I sat.
As the meal went on, I tried to focus on the others, on Cahya’s jokes and Jiwon’s stories. But my eyes kept drifting to Hannah, who was leaning closer to Wynter, her head tilted just enough to brush against his shoulder, her laugh soft and syrupy, as though she wanted only him to hear. Wynter looked relaxed, almost too relaxed, as if none of this was strange to him, as if her presence had already become normal.
As we were finishing up, Hannah let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand on her forehead. “Oh, I think I might have a little heat stroke,” she murmured, her voice soft, barely louder than a whisper. She leaned into Wynter, her fingers lightly tracing the inside of his wrist. “It’s been so hot all day. I should probably lie down…just to be safe.”
I felt a knot tighten in my stomach, watching her, every movement deliberate, and calculated. Wynter turned to her, a look of mild concern crossing his face. “Do you want me to take you back?” he asked, his tone casual, but something in his eyes seemed almost…eager.
She smiled, her fingers trailing from his wrist up to his shoulder, lingering. “If you don’t mind. I’d feel a lot safer with you there.”
My heart clenched, a sharp, unwelcome pang of jealousy twisting inside me. I glanced over at Jiwon, who gave me a sympathetic look, but neither of us said a word as Wynter and Hannah slid out of the booth, leaving us behind in a haze of unspoken tension.
I ate my fluffy cinnamon pancakes in silence that day, choking down the reality of the situation, that Hannah had won the one thing I’d yearned for.
When we returned to Jiwon’s house later that evening, the silence felt thick, uneasy. The house was still, almosttooquiet, the rooms feeling larger, emptier than they should. Jiwon and I wandered into the living room, where the fading light from the window stretched long shadows across the floor. I could see Jiwon glancing down the hall every now and then, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Then, footsteps. Slow, casual, like there was nothing unusual about them at all.
I looked up just as Hannah emerged from Wynter’s room, her hair tousled, a faint smirk playing at the edges of her mouth. She was wearing one of Wynter’s shirts, oversized on her small frame, the collar slipping off one shoulder. The fabric hung on her like itbelongedthere, like she’d always had the right to drape herself in it.
She caught sight of us, and for the briefest moment, her eyes darted to mine, something unreadable in them—a hint ofchallenge, or maybe satisfaction, as if she knew exactly what we were thinking. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, moving with the same slow, easy confidence that said everything without a single word. Then she turned, strolling down the hall as if this were her place, her domain, the faintest smile still on her lips, as if she’d won a prize no one else could claim.
Jiwon glanced at me, her expression pained, but I could tell she felt the same thing I did—that we’d both just been left on the outside, shut out of something we didn’t even fully understand. I forced myself to look away, swallowing the ache that had settled deep in my chest, but her presence lingered, filling the empty spaces with her quiet, insidious claim.
Hannah paused in the hallway, catching sight of me. She took a predatory step forward, tilting her head just enough that the collar of Wynter’s shirt slipped further off her shoulder, revealing a trace of his scent mingled with her perfume. Her gaze flicked over me, assessing, satisfied, like she was savoring a private joke.
She leaned in slightly, her voice low, dripping with a lazy confidence. “You know,” she murmured, barely louder than a whisper, “it’s funny how some people wait aroundforeverfor something that’s already…spoken for.” She let the words hang between us, her eyes glinting with quiet amusement. “Sometimes, it’s just a matter of being bold enough to go after what you want.”
“Spare us,” Jiwon scoffed,
“You know, I thought the heat was overwhelming me, turns out it was a different kind of stroke I needed to calm me down.” Hannah sighed, then whispered in my ear as a lump rose in my throat, “He has a cute freckle on his hip bone.”
Then, with a soft, knowing smile, she turned and walked away, leaving her words lingering, sharp and unmistakable.
And at that I raced down the stairs,
“Yesoh, wait!” Jiwon called out.
“Yeah, Yesoh, what’s the rush?” Hannah questioned from atop the stairs looking down at me like she always did,
“You win, okay?” I huffed. “I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re playing, but leave Wynter out of it. He thought you were hisfriend, it’s so shitty of you to parade him around like he’s some toy. He deserves better,screwyou, Hannah.”
And at that I was gone, racing back to my house and breaking down into tears. Not for me, but for Wyn, because she took something from him she could never return and he’d realize that someday. In his eyes, I was just a kid, not mature enough for him like Hannah was, not fascinating enough, and certainly not pretty like she was. And that truth sat like a bad dinner in the pit of my stomach as the sun set over the horizon.
I pulled my knees in close, pressing my forehead against them, trying to breathe slowly, to let the evening calm me down. I was by my open bay window overlooking the garden, wrapped in a soft dusk that usually made me feel at peace. But that night my soul was restless, it was just…too silent. As if the world had paused just to give me space to feel the hurt, to let itsinkin deeper, to acknowledge the wound and let it fester.
I hated myself for how much it hurt. I hated the way my mind kept conjuring up images of them together—Wynter with Hannah, her sly, confident menacing grins and laissez-faire attitude and the way she seemed to think she could have anything she wanted. I knew I hadnoright to feel betrayed—no none in this world. Wynterwasn’tmine; he never had been. He was two whole grades above me. But the thought of him with her, of her somehow managing to wedge her way into a place in his life that I’d always wanted but never admitted…it made me feel sick as I shrunk beneath the sky.
“Hey, Yesoh?”
I looked up, startled. Sydney was standing there, her face soft with concern. She must have noticed me slip up here, must have known I needed space but not too much of it. The sight of her made the knot in my throat tighten. She stepped closer, and I tried to wipe my eyes, to pull myself together, but she’d already seen.
Sydneyalwayssaw.
Without a word, she sat down next to me, close enough that our shoulders touched. Her warmth and steadiness were like a balm. She wrapped her arm around me, pulling me close until my head rested in her lap. Her hand began to stroke my hair, slow and gentle, soothing. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the comfort of it.
“I heard what happened,” she murmured, her voice so soft, like she was trying to keep me from breaking.
She would be bulletproof so I could be the one to shatter.
