Love is Beautiful (She's so Ugly)

Chapter Twenty One (part two)

It had been two weeks, and Merida's bond with Yuri had grown deeper. Today, Yuri was finally being discharged, and it was also Merida's last day in the city. They had a chance to step outside together — into the streets, maybe even the beach.

"Yuri, you'll need to wait for your parents to sign you out," one of the nurses said.

"You know they're not coming. They're always too busy. I'd have to die first before they show up and give me a speech about how much they love me," Yuri mocked, rolling her eyes.

"Let's just wait," Merida urged softly.

Just then, Yuri's doctor entered with a clipboard in hand. "She's cleared to leave. Her parents already called. You can discharge her."

"Finally!" Yuri groaned, then shot the nurses a smug look. "Told you they're too busy."

Grabbing Merida's hand, Yuri pulled her toward the hall. They laughed as they sprinted, trying to catch the elevator. Their laughter echoed inside the lift, and Merida thought, she's so much fun to be with.

"Now I'll show you my city," Yuri grinned.

They roamed the streets, crossing highways recklessly as if crosswalks were optional. An enforcer even tried to chase them down, but they vanished into the crowd, breathless with laughter.

They stopped in a narrow alley, catching their breath.

"Do you always do this?" Merida asked between giggles.

"No," Yuri admitted with a chuckle. "I just want you to have fun. To forget. So that when break ends, you'll be ready to face him."

And Merida had forgotten. That's how easy it was with Yuri.

"I feel different," she said quietly. "Not the same ugly girl who was always a loser, always a pushover. I feel... great."

Yuri's eyes softened. "That's good. But listen — it's not about always feeling great. It's about choosing to stay positive. And I like how you're finally choosing that."

Merida hesitated. Then she said, "I used to believe in this quote: I'd rather be hurt than hurt others. But now... I don't know. There's always that one pain that changes you. It forces you to set boundaries. Believing in that quote made me a pushover. I don't want to be that anymore."

Yuri clapped dramatically. "Well said! Now, let's eat. That speech deserves fries."

Merida laughed, surprised at herself. She never thought she could sound so brave.

They hailed a cab, taking selfies along the way — silly faces, pouts, laughter. At a fast-food place, they ate loudly, unbothered by the world. Fancy restaurants had no place in their kind of joy.

Then came the salon. Merida chopped her long hair into a shoulder-length cut and dyed it ombré.

"It so suits you! Oh my God!" Yuri shrieked, bouncing with excitement. "Now, clothes!"

They stormed through stores, Yuri playing stylist while Merida twirled in and out of fitting rooms. After clothes came shoes and accessories. And while Merida wasn't looking, Yuri bought a glittery, star-shaped friendship bracelet.

Makeup was next.

"Err... I won't use all of this," Merida whined, pouting.

"You promised. Plus, I'll check every night after you go home," Yuri teased with a playful glare.

Merida threw her arms around her. "I love you! You're so nice to me."

"I love you too! Never change, okay?"

People stared, but neither of them cared.

Before sunset, Yuri brought Merida to an old bridge that faced a newly built one.

"Why here?" Merida asked.

"Look at the other bridge," Yuri said, her eyes fixed on the horizon as the sky began to burn orange.

And then she spoke.

"Once upon a time, a boy and a girl used to sit right here, waiting for the sunset together. They laughed, they dreamed, and they promised they'd never part. But fate isn't kind. One day, they were torn apart so suddenly they couldn't even say goodbye.

"The girl suffered from prosopagnosia — she could no longer recognize faces. And the boy... he had an accident. He lost his memories. The only thing he remembered clearly was a name: Euphoria. The name of the girl who once made him happiest. So he searched for her.

"Seasons passed. One day, the girl returned to this bridge, waiting like she always did. And she met a boy. It was him — but neither of them knew it. She couldn't recognize him. He couldn't remember her.

"They traveled together, laughed together, even fell in love again. But each of them still longed for the missing pieces of their past, not realizing they had already found them in each other.

"In the end... they parted. The girl stayed here, on this old bridge. The boy stood across on the new one. And they wept — crying for what they thought they had lost, even though it was standing right in front of them the whole time."

Yuri turned to Merida, her expression soft but steady.

"So, Love... don't chain yourself to the past the way they did. Because the person meant for you might already be right here, staring at you, waiting for you to see them. Jacob didn't make you beautiful. You are. Now, say it. Say, 'Love is beautiful.'"

Merida frowned shyly. "I'm beautiful," she whispered. Then, louder: "I am beautiful. I'm fucking beautiful! LOVE IS BEAUTIFUL!"

Her laugh broke into sobs, but they were healing ones.

When the sky turned dark, Yuri slipped the bracelet on her wrist. "Our friendship bracelet. When you need me, remember I'm only one call away."

"It's so beautiful," Merida whispered, hugging her.

"We're beautiful," Yuri corrected with a grin.

That night, Yuri dropped Merida off. They hugged tightly, both reluctant to let go.

"I can't come to the airport tomorrow," Yuri admitted. "I hate goodbyes. They make me cry. Just... call me when you get home, okay?"

"I will. And you — stay out of trouble."

They waved until Yuri's car drove away. In the back seat, Yuri sighed, leaning her head against the glass.

"You've made a friend again," her driver said quietly.

"Yeah. She's different. She's kind. Beautiful. I don't get why people bullied her." Yuri's lips curved into a thoughtful smile. "Do you think it'd be crazy if I transferred to her school for the next semester? It might be... fun. Being around her. She's just like..." Yuri's voice trailed off. "...like my sister."

The driver only said, "It's up to you, Miss."