The Yes Game Ended My Survival Mission Chapter 10

The Yes Game Ended My Survival Mission Chapter 10

A few months later, Sienna paid the price for what she’d done.

Weston got brought in too, for questioning, for covering up the footage and helping her bury the truth.

I never saw Sienna again.

I heard that, right up to the end, she still believed she’d done nothing wrong.

She thought I’d had Weston, our professor’s favoritism, and design talent all handed to me on a plate.

Giving up one spot, one man, a handful of pieces for a friend, that was supposed to be nothing.

Without me, the studio ran itself into the ground and shut down for good.

The founder’s wall that used to have my name scraped off got hauled down and dumped outside some

warehouse.

Rain washed over Sienna’s photo on it.

Blurred the smile on her face until it wasn’t recognizable anymore.

Later, I heard Diane gave a long speech at Thanksgiving dinner, in front of the whole family.

Said she’d misjudged things back then.

But the people who’d once kept me standing outside the frame couldn’t even manage a real apology to my

face when it counted.

I never responded.

After Exit launched, it turned into Solène’s most popular piece of the season.

The brand put together a solo exhibition just for me.

That day, I stood alone under the lights and talked everyone through the work.

Nobody spoke for me.

Nobody swapped my name out for someone else’s.

The screen at the back of the hall looped through my design sketches.

Weston stood in the last row, his face draining whiter by the second.

He’d seen every one of those sketches before.

Some of them I’d drawn sitting on the floor of his old office, line by line.

Back then, he’d complained I wouldn’t show my face.

He’d complained I couldn’t carry the brand.

Now the whole room kept saying my name.

When the exhibit wrapped, Weston was still standing in that last row.

He’d lost a lot of weight.

He was still wearing the suit I’d picked out for him three years ago.

He was holding the Tides necklaces.

“Giving these back.”

The two silver pendants sat quiet in his palm.

“Wren, what I regret most isn’t losing the studio.”

“It’s losing you.”

I took the necklaces from him.

Weston saw an opening and stepped closer.

“Give me one more shot.”

“I’ll win you back. I mean it.”

“I’ll make up for everything I owe you, one piece at a time.”

August walked out and handed me my coat.

He didn’t spare Weston a glance. Just asked:

“Still up for dinner?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Weston stared at the two of us, whatever hope he had left finally going dark.

As I walked past him, he called out, quiet.

“Wren.”

That name used to soften me more times than I could count.

Hearing it now, it just felt far away.

I didn’t stop.

After the exhibit, I dropped the Tides necklaces Weston had given me into the studio’s smelting furnace.

The silver waves slowly caved in the heat.

The “W” and the “R” carved into the back melted away, bit by bit, into the molten silver.

August stood next to me.

“Want to make something new out of this silver?”

I shook my head.

“No need.”

“You sure you’re okay letting it go?”

I laughed, easy.

“It’d be weirder to keep it.”

The furnace door slid shut.

He didn’t ask anything else. Just handed me a hot cup of coffee.

It had just stopped raining outside.

Streetlights caught on the wet pavement as we walked out together, side by side.

Wind hit my face outside.

I didn’t raise a hand to block it, the way I used to.

August took a few steps, then asked out of nowhere.

“Free tomorrow?”

I shot him a look.

“Depends what you’re after.”

“Dinner. Still working on a good enough reason.”

I couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“Then I’ll wait till you’ve got one.”

Behind us, the furnace fire kept burning.

This time, I didn’t look back.