Chapter 23 Guilty As Sin
Guilty As Sin
PRESENT DAY
I sat down on the floor with Wynter’s diary hidden in a ballet textbook as he, Bae and Cahya gathered around a pepperoni pizza on the kitchen table.
My eyes skimmed over the words in Wynter’s diary from summer fifteen— the summer of Hannah.
And my heart wrenched, I recall thinking back then that he didn’t care, that it didn’t matter. But his words argued otherwise.
There are moments I can’t stop replaying, the things I gave because I thought I was safe with her. I wanted to believe it, to feel like I was letting someone in, trusting someone. But now it’s like she took a part of me, something I thought was mine to give, but instead it feels…
My vision blurred as i read, each word pressing down on my chest. My fingers shook, my hand frozen on the page. I closed the diary, slowly, a heaviness settling over me as I tried to process what I’d just glimpsed—the depth of Wynter’s regret, something raw and broken I hadn’t realized he carried.
All of a sudden it felt too personal to read, even for me.
I knew there was no going back when I chose to read his most secret thoughts and feelings but I hadn’t prepared myself for that level of transparency.
I pressed a hand over my forehead and sighed deeply What the hell am I doing? I thought to myself.
“Soh what the heck is going on in there if you don’t open the door I’m going to pee in your suitcase like an untrained nintendog.” Bae pounded on the door,
“Sorry, was scrolling on my phone!” I called out pretending to flush the toilet.
Out of all the diary entries that I had read, this one felt the most intrusive, by far. And so I decided not to read further, I got the gist of what happened, I grasped what he felt, and that had to be enough.
The rain had softened, a gentle drumming against the windows now, but earlier, it had been relentless.
For hours, it kept us locked inside Wynter’s apartment, the world outside gray and blurred.
Bae, ever restless and seeking entertainment, had taken it upon herself to find something to do, which was how we ended up sitting around the coffee table staring down at a battered Monopoly board.
“This is it,” she announced, holding up the box like it was some grand solution. “The ultimate game. Let’s settle on who the real monopoly master is.”
“Ironic considering that you’re so going to lose,” Cahya teased, sprawling on the carpet and shuffling the money piles. “I’ll be the banker,”
“You’re always the banker.” I reminded him, “where’s the degree to back it piano major?”
“Woah! No need to get political.” Cahya protested and Wyn let out a soft laugh.
Bae scoffed, settling cross-legged across from him. “Please. Losing is for people without a strategy, and I may not have much but I have that.”
I snorted from the couch. “That’s rich, coming from someone who still doesn’t know how to play UNO without the instruction manual in hand.”
Bae waved me off dramatically. “Details, details. Come on, Yesoh, join us. You’re not scared of a little competition, are you?”
I rolled my eyes and slid off the couch to sit beside Cahya. “I’m not scared. I just hate games that are more luck than skill. Monopoly’s basically glorified gambling. And I don’t condone gambling.”
“So morally upright.” Wynter taunted with a smirk selecting the battleship play piece, selecting the top hat for me.
He remembered.
“I’d argue it’s more common sense.” I shrugged.
“Excuses already?” Wynter asked as he lowered himself into the armchair across from me, as I sat on the floor beneath him, his tone just the right mix of smug and challenging.
His elbows rested casually on his knees as he lent forward to roll the dice.
The lamplight overhead caught in his dark hair, that had a single sliver of Snow White as always.
Arguably his most striking feature which was slightly tousled from running his hands through it earlier, leaving it messy in a way that somehow only suited him more.
His jaw was sharp, the faintest shadow of stubble lining it, and his lips, though pressed into a slight smirk, looked soft.
Too soft, too tender for someone so shamelessly jarring.
His shirt clung to him in a way that was almost unfair, his collarbones cradling his angelic features so well, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to touch them.
The navy knitted fabric stretched across his broad shoulders before tapering down to his lean frame.
His forearms were bare, the veins on them faintly visible as his hands, steady and strong gripped the dice like he already knew the outcome.
I tried not to allow my gaze to linger suspiciously long at his eyes, which were sharp and bright, the color of an unrelenting storm in a dark wood.
But it was impossible not to notice the way they seemed to catch on me, even when he wasn’t speaking, as though he could sense the heat rising to my cheeks.
His gaze lingered just enough to make me feel exposed, like he could see every thought I wasn’t saying.
I hated how composed he looked, like nothing I said or did could rattle him. It made me want to grab the board and flip it just to see his reaction. Or maybe it made me want to—
“Are you alright?” he asked suddenly, his voice low and smooth, cutting through my thoughts like a knife. He tilted his head slightly, watching me with that maddening smirk that said he’d already guessed whatever was on my mind.
I blinked, heat flaring to my cheeks as I scrambled to sit up straighter. “Fine,” I said quickly, though my voice was sharper than I intended.
“Good,” he said, leaning back in his chair as if he hadn’t just thrown me completely off balance. The smugness in his tone made my blood boil, but it was the ease with which he occupied the space, with which he occupied my space, that really got under my skin.
“Bold words for someone who’s about to go bankrupt,” I shot back, grabbing the dog token before anyone else could.
The game started well enough. I quickly monopolized the pink properties like I’d always done since I was a kid, and built up a respectable pile of cash.
Wynter quietly amassed his railroads, Cahya bought up all the yellows, and Bae insisted on collecting every utility because “they’re underrated icons. ”
But soon, the dice stopped working in my favor. I kept landing on Cahya’s growing row of houses and hotels, losing more and more money with every turn. When I landed on Bae’s Boardwalk hotel and handed over my last few hundred-dollar bills, my frustration bubbled over.
“This game is rigged,” I muttered, pushing my dwindling stack of cash away.
“Don’t be a sore loser,” Cahya said, stacking his bills neatly into piles like he was auditioning for a job as a banker.
“I’m not a sore loser,” I snapped. “I just hate losing at dumb games like this.”
“You’ve always been a sore loser Soh—”
“No have not.” I argued at nineteen years of age.
“Maybe take a breath get something to drink yeah?” Wynter proposed, not even looking up as he placed yet another house on Park Place. His voice was casual, but it made my blood boil.
“I need water,” I said abruptly, standing up before the heat in my chest spilled over.
The kitchen was dark except for the faint glow of a candle flickering on the counter. I grabbed a glass and filled it at the sink, letting the coolness of the water steady me.
As I drank, I heard their voices drift over from the living room but couldn’t quite make out what exactly was being communicated. All I heard was a you’ve gotta be kidding me from Cahya and a you’re so whipped it’s embarrassing from Bae. I shrugged it off.
I turned and walked back to the living room, keeping my expression neutral. But inside, I was simmering.
“What’d I miss?” I asked, sitting back down.
“Nothing!” Bae said quickly, too brightly, shoving the dice toward me. “Your turn.”
From then on, everything changed. Wynter started making the most bizarre trades, practically handing me cash and properties. Bae “accidentally” landed on my hotels, and Cahya conveniently forgot to collect rent. I knew what they were doing, and the pity of it burned.
By the end, the board was mine, a kingdom of orange and red hotels, while the others sat bankrupt and “defeated.”
“Well,” Wynter said, leaning back with a faint smile. “Looks like you’re not as bad as you thought.”
“You asshole.” I huffed in offense.
“Woah!” Bae covered hear ears.
“Not in front of the children Yesoh damn.” Cahya scolded.
I stared at the board, then at him. “You let me win.”
His smirk faltered. “What?”
“You all let me win,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. “You made everyone throw the game, t’s obvious. You think I didn’t notice?”
Cahya looked uncomfortable. “We just thought—”
“Don’t,” I interrupted, glaring at him. “I don’t need you to go easy on me. I’m not some child who needs to be coddled.”
“It’s not like that,” Wynter said, his tone frustratingly calm.
“Then what is it?” I demanded, standing. “You didn’t think I could handle losing?”
“Girl you never noticed all the times he used to let you win before in Waverly too so.” Bae mumbled and Wynter shot her a warning glare.
“Mal-eul josimhaeseo golla.” He scolded her in Korean and she immediately shut her mouth because she knew he only did that when he wasn’t kidding.
The silence stretched, broken only by the faint patter of rain on the windows. I stood up at that and went off to sulk in the kitchen at the sheer lack of respect. I could’ve believe that all these years he’d been letting me win at every game, did he really think of me as that incompetent?
“Hey,” Wynter said finally, his voice softer now. “The rain’s stopped. Let me make it up to you. Anywhere you want to go, my treat.”
Cahya, ever the instigator, grinned. “Take her to the Lego store. She used to build all these insane castles when we were kids.”