Epilogue The Re
Paya
Six months ago, I was sleeping on bamboo slats, tending to my scraped knees and brushing my teeth with charcoal.
Today, The Final Summit’s live reunion show is officially underway.
I’m sitting under the bright glare of a Los Angeles stage, the roar of a live studio audience vibrating straight through the soles of my heels.
The muddy shorts and sweat stained shirts are gone. I won’t miss them.
The atmosphere on stage feels entirely different than it did on the island between us players.
Back then, every glance seemed calculated, and every conversation was a potential trap.
Now, sitting on this plush studio couch with the monitors humming in front of us, the survival armor has completely melted away. Almost.
“Paya.” Steph turns the focus on me. “You’re a player that’s so good, fans think the producers literally wrote your script.”
The crowd stirs into a mix of whispers and cheers.
“How does it feel being on the other side of all of it?” Steph asks.
I exhale a small laugh at how production chooses to gaslight the world. “I definitely didn’t expect to fall in love with my boss.” I squeeze Celeste’s hand, the familiar warmth of her fingers grounds me. “It was the best mistake I ever made. Even if it cost me my job.”
Celeste leans into the microphone. “Paya blindsided me in more ways than one.” A fond smile plays on her lips. “Including a two-week notice.”
Steph chuckles along with the audience, then gestures toward the big screen, thankfully taking the attention off me before I start rambling.
Clips from the season flash across the big screen, a montage of the wild journey that brought us here.
Bo holding a crocodile egg. The chaotic camp wedding.
What fans are calling the infamous: Shroom Soup Gate.
The sheer shock on our faces when Steph announced the merge twist. Saffron’s blurred-out silhouette walking around camp entirely naked.
All of us shivering in the freezing rain, huddled together under our leaking shelter.
Then, the screen displays the moment Celeste played Sappho’s Super Secret Relic.
Lastly, a clip follows of my alliance sitting in a strategy circle, war paint on our faces, plotting our next move. I can’t help but chuckle seeing the way our legs are tangled over logs and crates in true bisexual chaotic fashion, not a single one of us is actually sitting properly.
Unexpected tears prick the corners of my eyes from the sudden rush of memories. We went through absolute hell out there, but we did it together.
Steph beams toward the crowd, her voice booming over the studio speakers. “Possibly the most deadly alliance this show’s ever witnessed. Paya, Saffron, Arlie, and Beya. The famous Bi Brigade dominated this season, including an epic blindside. Let’s watch it again.”
The monitors shift to the dramatic footage of that evening at The Summit, the musical score swelling with cinematic tension as the torchlight flickers across our desperate faces.
Once the video clip finishes playing, Steph motions toward our biggest blindside victim sitting four seats from me.
“Raina, after what happened to you, how did it feel to see Saffron blindsided and go home with a relic in her pocket?”
Raina offers a smug look, crossing her arms tightly. “Sweet revenge, Steph. I’d be a liar if I told you I didn’t enjoy karma biting her in the ass.”
Despite the palpable tension in the air, Steph goes for the jugular, leaning forward with an not so innocent grin. “Do you think you two will ever kiss and make up?”
Saffron's unanswered calls and the way both women dodge eye contact backstage tell me everything I need to know.
I catch Saffron’s massive eye roll when Raina finally answers. “She’ll never ride this boat ever again.”
Miraculously, production found the two other chickens alive and well after the show wrapped. All three live at Saffron’s bird sanctuary now.
Right on cue, Cluck belts out a loud squawk at Raina. The bird is wearing a small bow tie and has been sitting entirely too comfortably on Saffron’s lap for the entire reunion.
Saffron doesn’t miss a beat, gently stroking the chicken’s feathers. “See? Even Cluck says you’re not worth my time.”
Ouch. A collective “ooh” ripples through the entire studio at the blatant back and forth.
During the game, it was obvious to me that Saffron liked Raina a lot more than she let on. The only saving grace of my friendship with Saffron now is that she needed someone to vent to about Raina. By the looks of things, that ship hasn’t just sailed, it crashed and sank to the bottom of the ocean.
Steph exaggerates a grimace, though the glint of mischief in her eyes tells me she’s absolutely loving the drama.
“On that note, let’s hear from our Sole Champion, who conquered The Final Summit in a devastating seven-zero-zero sweep jury vote.
First time in the history of the game, Beya, come on out! ”
The room erupts into a thunderous standing ovation as Beya walks onto the stage, wearing a blazer and jeans, a Cats Against Anxiety T-shirt underneath.
Her short pink hair is neatly combed back.
She responds by mouthing an emotional thank you under the golden studio lights.
She taps Steph’s fist with hers, then sits next to Arlie.
Video clips of Beya’s legendary run skate across the screen, a highlight reel of pure determination.
Teary eyed confessionals about playing for her family.
Walking back to camp holding up a shark, a triumphant smile plastered across her face.
The breathless moment Steph slipped the immunity talisman necklace around Beya’s neck for the first time.
It’s impossible not to smile re-watch Beya fiercely kissing Arlie right after securing her spot in the Final Three. Beya deserved every vote.
When the footage fades, Steph turns to the benches, her expression full of genuine respect. “Wow,” Steph states into the microphone.
“Beya, you came into this game as—despite being a cat person—the golden retriever of the cast.” Laughter ripples through the audience. “A small cat cafe owner who struggled physically in the beginning. Players described you as annoyingly chatty, weak, ridiculously obsessed with your cats—”
“Still am,” Beya confirms cheerfully.
Steph gestures toward the screen where the Bi Brigade footage just played.
“And somehow, under the radar, you were running the entire game. Nobody saw it coming. Not even the people sitting right next to you.” She leans forward.
“You came to plot, persist, and prevail. You did that and more, earning a historic unanimous victory. All with a smile on your face. What’s the first thing you did with your prize money? ”
Silence stretches across the room as Beya lifts the microphone closer to her mouth.
She clears her throat. “I threw my daughter the biggest transition party for their twenty-first birthday. Introducing my kid by her new name and watching them get celebrated by family and friends was my proudest parent moment. The Final Summit was one of the most challenging times of my life, but it was worth every single second.” The camera pans to Beya’s daughter who has the exact same bright smile as her mother.
The audience breaks into a warm, roaring round of applause and finger whistles.
Steph nods. “A beautiful way to celebrate. And speaking of celebrations. There was no shortage of romance this season. Yours and Arlie’s kept viewers glued to their screens.
How have things been since the cameras stopped rolling? ”
Beya turns her head, her gaze locking onto Arlie.
She reaches out to her fiancée's hand and lifts it, displaying a stunning black diamond ring.
“Steph, I knew Arlie was special from the moment I saw her.
We couldn't leave our love story behind on that beach. The camp wedding was a great rehearsal, but this time it's forever. I love her. She might not know it—” Beya pauses to regroup, her blush deepening at the collective, soft “awe” flowing from the entire room. “But she’s a lot of the candles I blew out as a kid.”
Arlie’s eyes soften at the confession. She doesn’t say a word. Instead, she pulls Beya in for a deep kiss as if they were the only two left in the room.
I share a sweet smile with Celeste, our hands still intertwined.
The reunion continues for another thirty minutes highlighting other players speaking about their game experience.
Upon closing, Steph Rhodes delivers her signature tomboyish charm with absolute finality.
“From all of us here at The Final Summit, thank you for watching. Goodnight and we will see you next season!”
The iconic theme music swells through the speakers, drowned out almost instantly by the roar of the live studio audience.
The overhead lights shift from a tense, bright white to a warm, golden hue.
Confetti cannons blast from the rafters, showering the entire floor in a glittering rain of red, orange, turquoise and gold.
Fans and the rest of the cast flood the stage, shouting congratulations and swarming around us. Through the chaotic sea of hugs, cheering fans, and flashing cameras, my world narrows down to the woman standing next to me.
Celeste turns to face me, a soft, breathless smile gracing her lips. Her eyes crinkle at the corners with a pure, unbothered happiness I’ve never seen on her face before.
She steps right through the falling confetti, her free hand sliding effortlessly around my neck and pulls me close.
There’s no secret cameras tracking our movements for strategy anymore.
No more producer notes to worry about and thankfully no more hidden alliances to protect.
When her lips press against mine, her touch mesmerizes me.
I deepen the kiss, tuning out the crowd and the flashing media lights around us.
Our love is warm, genuine, and entirely ours.
We aren’t playing a game anymore. Our love is real.
I smile knowing we were outplayed. Outplayed by love.
“I love you so much,” I whisper against her lips as she pulls back just enough to rest her forehead against mine.
“And I love you.” Celeste wraps her arms around my waist gently, her gaze locked onto mine with love that makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter.
“The game might be over, Paya Richardson.” Taking a finger, she tilts my chin and presses our lips together.
“But you and I are just getting started.”
* * *