Almost two decades later, much like Edward himself, the question of which team you’re on — Edward or Jacob — still hasn’t grown old. Once upon a time, the soap opera Sana’y Wala Nang Wakas let viewers text-vote to decide who Ara would marry in the finale, Christian or Leo. Years later, at the height of the 2010s YA-dystopian era, Katniss stood as the face of a revolution while torn between Peeta and Gale, and somehow, we gave equal weight to both dilemmas. It’s no wonder The Summer I Turned Pretty blew up.
Last week, the romantic entanglement between Belly Conklin and the Fisher brothers finally came to an end. (Well, not quite — a movie has been announced!)
For those unfamiliar, yes, Belly found herself caught between two brothers, Conrad and Jeremiah. But we’ve seen this before, haven’t we? Immortal brothers Stefan and Damon could’ve fallen for anyone across centuries, yet somehow always ended up chasing the same women.
In all these stories, the love triangle has always been the crowd-puller, and the success of Jenny Han’s books, along with the series, proves that the trope has stood the test of time.
For me, what set this series apart was how much it brought back memories of those early-2000s shows, often so angsty, melodramatic, but still carefree in a way. From the very first scene, The Summer I Turned Pretty carried both the pang and the pleasure of nostalgia. Dawson’s Creek fans will know exactly what I mean — the seaside town, the messy prom scene, and of course, the Pacey versus Dawson debate.
Here, Team Conrad takes the win, and rightly so. The finale confirms that The Summer I Turned Pretty is ultimately a love story between two childhood friends, tied together with an invisible string. Some fans wondered if the show would stray from the books. Others speculated, with the way most shows or movies go these days, a scenario where love doesn’t end in happily-ever-after but in something more grounded in reality, that Belly might choose herself. Personally, I’m glad the show followed the original ending. First, I say let’s let love have its day. Second, don’t come at me Team Jeremiah, but sometimes first loves deserve their day.
Having author Jenny Han co-run the show ensured it stayed true to the books even while expanding storylines by weaving in plots around sexuality (arguably a more contemporary take) and giving side characters more depth. It’s important to note that this balance isn’t always guaranteed. Take House of the Dragon, which basically did the same thing, yet despite the author’s involvement, ended up alienating fans by straying from the spirit of its source material. Here, while Han breathed new life into her story, she did so without losing sight of its heart.
The finale, while flawed, still felt wholesome. That said, Season 3 more than deserves its lukewarm reception. The wedding plot was painful to sit through, and Belly easily felt like the most underwritten character compared to everyone else. At times it was like watching “The Summer I Turned Pretty… but Less Interesting than Everyone Else.” Taylor even got a lively subplot straight out of Gilmore Girls or Ginny & Georgia, while Belly all but faded into the background of her own story. It wasn’t until the very end that we finally caught a glimpse into her inner world.
This means that for much of the season, she felt more like a shadow of her former self. Given everything she’s been through, it’s not surprising for her to turn out this way and, to be fair, Season 2 had already delved into this. But Season 3 Belly came off dull for one too many episodes. Defined more by her boyfriend than her own dreams, it became hard to see why the Fisher brothers remained so captivated by her. Only in hindsight does it feel intentional.
As Taylor bluntly puts it, Belly was losing herself in Jeremiah, though it was more spelled out than shown. Some might argue the show hinted at this all along, but the truth is we saw other characters’ thought processes far more often and clearly than her own. The series would’ve fared much better if it had simply let us sit inside her head. What were her motivations, her confusion, her internal chaos?
By the time her Paris self-discovery arc arrived, it felt too little, too late. Still, this period of isolation mattered. Even if it began as an act of self-imposed exile rather than a journey of re-evaluation, at the end of the day, Belly needed to process her guilt. Granted, running away from your problem and towards Paris on a whim probably shouldn’t have even been an option. But if anything, it was oddly refreshing to see Belly step away from the Beach House, and even further away from the Fisher boys.
The last episode wove together multiple storylines but the heart of it all was Belly and Conrad, shown on European time, in what felt like a clear homage to Richard Linklater’s Before trilogy — the non-stop conversations spanning a single evening, the stolen glances and quick look aways (a nod to the listening booth scene), dancing to no music, and that raw, overdue conversation. What began a little awkwardly, ended on a high, complete with a chase scene that feels nearly obsolete in our hyperconnected era. It also didn’t hurt that everything was gorgeously shot and acted with such tenderness.
By the final scene though, what struck me most was how her lack of introspection does, in fact, reinforce the notion that she is, in many ways, an unreliable narrator. The stark contrast between her POV and Conrad’s made this even clearer. It’s now painfully obvious that her childhood crush was never one-sided — he had always seen her in the same light, long before the summer she turned pretty.
Some fans claim that this ending came at Jeremiah’s expense, even calling it character assassination. I disagree. If anyone is still wondering what would’ve happened had Belly chosen Jeremiah instead, the doomed wedding plot already gave us the answer. Everything leading up to it was the aftermath of both Belly and Jeremiah choosing the wrong person.
They were, in essence, best friends bound by grief. Conrad chose to suffer in silence, but Belly and Jeremiah leaned on each other instead. What started as comfort eventually grew into a codependent relationship, one where both — not just Belly — lost their sense of self. They were happy together, yes, but not good for each other. Belly could never be fully transparent with him, and kept trying to convince herself that because everything felt easy, Jeremiah must be the one. Meanwhile, Jeremiah would never be completely secure unless Conrad was out of the picture, except this was a reflection of his deep-rooted inferiority complex, not just in this particular romantic rivalry, but sadly, in almost everything else as well.
Truthfully, even if Belly had chosen Conrad first, there was no guarantee it would’ve worked out. What made the ending possible was each of them outgrowing their worst tendencies. And although I have no doubt Belly did love both brothers, in the end, it was Conrad who chose to pursue her. They’d once loved the idealised versions of each other but by the time he surprised her in Paris, they were both different people, that both seem to recognize. Their reunion wasn’t fate alone — it was timing, growth, and choice.
Because if there’s one thing the finale makes clear, it’s that love, by itself, was never enough. The writers clearly meant to frame Belly and Conrad as destined-to-be (all the Easter Eggs pointed in that direction), but the fact they finally came together as more mature, healed versions of themselves proves it took more than just destiny. For them to find their way back to each other, it took years, personal growth, and a conscious decision to choose one another. That’s what made it believable. A rom-com ending, but still anchored in something real.
While fans have often been harsh on both Conrad and Jeremiah depending on their individual affiliations, it’s really Belly who’s received the harshest criticism. Yet the finale reminds us that she’s still so young — only now, she’s a little wiser while figuring it all out. Watching her finally confront her insecurities, take accountability, forgive herself, and take a leap of faith with Conrad, somehow healed something in me too.
Now, while I wouldn’t have the ending any other way, this season did give me flashbacks to the last season of How I Met Your Mother. We sat through almost an entire season gearing up for Belly and Jeremiah’s wedding, only for the story to hit fast-forward in the final episodes and land her with Conrad. The difference here is that it feels a little more forgivable since we know the upcoming movie will likely give us more time with them. (But yes, I remain bitter about the HIMYM ending.)
With all its missteps, The Summer I Turned Pretty has still cemented itself as this generation’s defining love triangle saga — messy but addictive and impossible not to get pulled into. Of course, it’s also a teen soap, with moments so cringey (those group dance scenes…) I’d rather pretend they never happened. Still, I ate it all up. And honestly, I can’t wait to meet these characters again soon.
Perhaps we’ll finally see the letter Susannah wrote for Belly on her actual wedding day. Perhaps Jeremiah will find someone who brings out the best in him. Perhaps Adam will finally become the father he should’ve been all along. Perhaps we’ll just see more of Steven and Taylor. God knows I’d eat that up too. But most of all, perhaps we’ll finally see more of Belly and Conrad, together, in the present, simply happy.
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