I pull the bathroom door halfway closed behind me and sit on the couch in the half dark. The tap turns, followed by the cabinet clicking shut. Her lamp goes off.
Then quiet.
I stare at the ceiling and hold onto the crack in her facade I saw. That half second where something got through before she closed it back up. Whether it’s still standing in the morning, whether she carries it into that ceremony or buries it— I won’t know until I see her face in the morning.
Day 7 (morning)
Lyla
The terrace has been transformed overnight into something deliberately romantic. Hibiscus petals are scattered across the stone, the ocean glittering behind us, the morning light soft as though it was considered in the design like a paid actor. Everyone is gathered in a loose semicircle, dressed and present, the air carrying that particular charged stillness of people bracing for whatever new drama will inevitably unfold.
I stand between Emily and Kylie with my hands loosely clasped and Scott’s words from last night still turning over in my head.
I don’t want Valerie… There is no version of this where I want anyone in this villa except you.
Maybe Ava didn’t have the whole picture. She saw, what, thirty seconds of footage? And through a monitor no less. She filled in the rest herself, the way people do when a story is more interesting than the truth.
That’s plausible.
But then Valerie walked back with Scott in tow—and the particular warmth of a woman who’d had a good evening—and that image can’t just disappear simply because Scott says nothing happened.
So I don’t know. That’s the honest answer. I don’t know what will happen or what I’m going to do.
My eyes scan the semicircle, from one nervous face to the next.
Scott, in a white dress shirt that makes his eyes impossibly bluer, stands with the other men, hands in his pockets, weight slightly forward. He finds me the moment I look—like he could sense I was staring. He holds eye contact with that sure expression that has been dismantling me since the first day on this beach. Like he has nothing to hide and everything to prove.
I look away first and move my gaze to Damon just a few men down the line. His presence is eye-catching in a stark black dress shirt and pants, his stoicism radiating across the distance between us. He’s somewhat intimidating, intense, but perhaps underneath lies a deeper vulnerability than he’s willing to show. His eyes soften when they meet mine. They’re kind and thoughtful, but the connection he’s trying to capture in his gaze feels distant. Like I’m following a string on the ground, only to realize a brick wall blocks my path and I can’t move forward.
On paper, Damon makes perfect sense. He’s consistent, responsive, understanding, and asking nothing emotionally that I’m not already prepared to give. But every time I try to picture settling into that life with him, I run up against the same hollow feeling I can’t explain away, no matter how many reasonable arguments I make with myself. As though something is missing, a piece of him that I’m unable to reach, and I’ve been ignoring that feeling since our first date.
Out of all the other women here, he’d chosen me. Isn’t that enough to settle with?
Miranda steps forward into the center of the semicircle.
“Good morning. Today is our coupling ceremony. Soon, we’re going to find out where we all truly stand.” She pauses. “Before we begin, a reminder about the advantage earned in yesterday’s challenge. Valerie has an advantage that will allow her to make her choice without any steal or veto. That extends not just to the other women choosing, but also her chosen partner.”
Around me, the group seems to absorb this information quietly.
When this advantage was first introduced, I didn’t think much of it. Perhaps I was too consumed in the challenge or my own thoughts then to really worry. But hearing it said again, like this, settles deep within my chest like a weight falling to the bottom of a pool. Whoever Valerie chooses has no say, regardless of what anyone else wants.
I force myself to breathe normally, not to panic over things that haven’t happened yet, that are still to come, and that might not ever occur.
“Ladies,” Miranda continues, “when I call your name, you’ll share your reason for your decision before revealing your choice. The floor will be yours, so be honest.” A small smile forms on her face.
With a nod, the ceremony begins, starting with a name draw. Jessa is called first. She steps forward.
“Jessa, please reveal your choice.” Miranda gestures.
“This person, since being here, has given me some perspective on the world. They’ve made me laugh in a way I don’t think I have in a long time. And this choice I’m making feels the easiest. Right. So I choose…” She pauses. “Nick,” she says with a smile before walking calmly toward him. They share a kiss as he holds her tight.
But I don’t pay much attention.
My mind wanders again to last night. Scott had sounded certain. That low, direct voice in the half dark. Every word seemed sincere, genuine, like it was simply a fact he was tired of keeping to himself. And I had stood there at the bathroom counter, working very hard to not let him and his words enchant me. At least not too much. The desire to believe him while still holding on to the reality that the other shoe could drop at any moment is a balance as challenging as walking on a tight rope.
Please don’t have me be the fool.
My pulse kicks up with each selection. Ava picks Zayne with a smug smile to Kylie. Surprisingly, Kylie chooses Sean. And even more shocking Renee selects Bradley.
