In a plot twist that has left “The Summer I Turned Pretty” devotees clutching their pearls and scrolling through fan theories at 3 a.m., our favorite beach-loving heroine Belly Conklin has done the unthinkable: she ghosted her own wedding to Jeremiah Fisher and jetted off to the City of Love for a solo soul-searching spree. But hold onto your iced lattes, because just when we thought the drama couldn’t get any steamier, brooding bad boy Conrad Fisher crashes her Parisian birthday bash like a knight in distressed denim. Is this the epic reunion we’ve all been manifesting, or just the setup for the most heartbreaking love triangle reload ever? And with whispers of Season 4 already swirling like sea foam, who – if anyone – will finally snag Belly’s heart for keeps? Buckle up, Team Conrad and Team Jeremiah; this tea is piping hot and we’re spilling it all.

Let’s rewind to that fateful day that turned Cousins Beach into a gossip mill hotter than a July heatwave. Picture this: the sun-kissed shores of their childhood haven, decked out in white roses and seashell accents, with Belly – radiant in a gown that screamed “forever after” – poised to say “I do” to Jeremiah. The guy who’s been her rock, her laugh track, her everything since those awkward tween crushes. The air buzzed with anticipation; Laurel, Belly’s no-nonsense mom, was dabbing happy tears, while the Fisher brothers’ fractured family dynamic hung like a storm cloud on the horizon. Jeremiah, with his golden-boy grin and easy charm, looked every inch the perfect groom. Fans had shipped them hard after Season 2’s rollercoaster of confessions and near-misses, convinced this was the fairytale fix we deserved after years of pining.

But then… poof! In a move straight out of a rom-com gone rogue, Belly freezes at the altar. Her eyes dart to the back of the church – or was it the beach gazebo? Details blur in the haze of heartbreak – and suddenly, she’s bolting. Not a dramatic veil-trailing sprint down the aisle, mind you, but a quiet, gut-wrenching slip away while the organ swells and confused whispers ripple through the crowd. Jeremiah’s face? Pure devastation, like someone yanked the sun out from under his surfboard. He stands there, ring in hand, as the realization hits: the girl he’s loved since sandbox days just chose freedom over forever. Cue the collective gasp from living rooms worldwide – because who saw this coming? Not after all those stolen kisses and sunset promises!

Belly doesn’t look back. Within hours, she’s on a red-eye to Paris, trading salty ocean air for the intoxicating swirl of croissants, cobblestones, and existential vibes. Why Paris? Oh, honey, it’s the ultimate escape pod for a girl who’s spent her summers tangled in Fisher brother drama. The City of Lights becomes her personal reinvention project: think solo strolls along the Seine, where the water’s gentle lap might just wash away the what-ifs. She dives headfirst into a whirlwind of French classes, café philosophizing with artsy locals, and late-night journaling sessions that scream “quarter-life crisis chic.” Belly, now 21 and fiercer than ever, channels her inner Audrey Hepburn – elegant, enigmatic, and utterly untethered. No more chasing waves or boys; this is her era of self-love, or so she tells herself as she sips espresso and pretends the Eiffel Tower isn’t twinkling like a judgmental ex.

Back in Cousins, the fallout is nuclear. Jeremiah, ever the golden retriever of the group, doesn’t rage or rant. Instead, he bottles it up, throwing himself into surf lessons and brooding beach bonfires that leave everyone walking on eggshells. Conrad? The elusive older Fisher, who’s been MIA more than present since his Stanford soul-searching sabbatical, hears the news and… well, let’s just say his poker face cracks. Whispers from the beach grapevine suggest he shows up at the abandoned wedding venue like a ghost from summers past, kicking at seashells and muttering about “what could have been.” The brothers’ already rocky truce? Shattered into a million jagged pieces. Fans are losing it online, flooding feeds with memes of Jeremiah’s puppy-dog eyes and Conrad’s signature scowl, debating if this is karma for all those years of Belly-bouncing.

Fast-forward a few months, and Paris has worked its magic – or so it seems. Belly’s thriving in her bohemian bubble: think vintage thrift finds from the Marais, impromptu picnics in Luxembourg Gardens, and a rotating cast of flirty French friends who make her laugh in ways no American boy ever could. She’s posting cryptic Insta stories of berets and baguettes, hinting at growth without spilling the tea on her shattered heart. But deep down? That pull toward Cousins – toward them – lingers like the faint scent of sunscreen on a winter day. She’s stronger, yes, but the what-ifs about Jeremiah’s easy joy and Conrad’s quiet intensity keep her up at night, staring at the Seine’s reflections.

Enter the plot twist that has us all ugly-crying into our popcorn: Belly’s 22nd birthday. She’s planned a low-key affair – nothing extravagant, just her Parisian posse, a corner bistro with fairy lights, and a cake piled high with candles for wishes she swears she’s outgrown. The clock strikes evening, the group toasts to “new chapters,” and Belly blows out the flames with eyes squeezed shut, whispering a secret plea to the universe. She’s come so far, hasn’t she? No more choosing between brothers; this is her year of solo summers.

Then, the door chimes. And there he is: Conrad Fisher, looking like he just stepped off a transatlantic flight in rumpled jeans, wind-tousled hair, and that smoldering gaze that could melt the Arc de Triomphe. No warning, no DM slide-in – just Conrad, materializing like a fever dream on her doorstep, a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in one hand and regret etched across his chiseled jawline. The room freezes; Belly’s French friends exchange wide-eyed glances, sensing the electric charge of unfinished business. “Happy birthday, Belly,” he says, voice low and laced with that Fisher vulnerability we crave. She stares, heart hammering, as the candles’ smoke curls between them.

What unfolds next is pure, unadulterated magic – the kind that makes you believe in second chances and serendipity. Conrad confesses he’s been a mess since the wedding bombshell, haunted by the “what if” of letting her slip away again. He flew economy (gasp!) on a whim, chasing a gut feeling that Paris – and Belly – were calling him home. They talk for hours, spilling years of pent-up truths over wine and wistful walks along the river. Jeremiah? The elephant in the beret-clad room. Conrad admits the guilt of sidelining his brother, but swears this time, he’s all in – no more half-measures or fear-fueled fades. Belly, tears streaking her mascara, admits Paris was her escape, but Conrad was always the anchor she couldn’t shake.

By midnight, under the glow of streetlamps and a sky full of stars that feel suspiciously like fate, they’re more than friends again. A tentative kiss by the bridge – soft, searching, electric – seals it. Conrad whispers promises of tomorrows that include her, not just summers. Belly, for the first time, believes him. The birthday wish she made? Conrad, standing right there, proving the universe has a wicked sense of humor and impeccable timing.

But here’s where the tabloid gods smile upon us: with Season 3 wrapping on that swoon-worthy note, the buzz for Season 4 is deafening. Showrunner Jenny Han has teased extensions beyond the books, hinting at fresh heartaches and hotter hookups. Will Conrad and Belly’s Parisian spark ignite a forever flame, or will Jeremiah stage a comeback tour de force, sweeping in with that irresistible underdog charm? Sources close to the set (wink) murmur of script pages flying with brotherly betrayals, surprise suitors from Belly’s French fling era, and a Cousins reunion that could make or break them all. Imagine: Belly torn between Conrad’s brooding depth and Jeremiah’s sunny spontaneity, all while navigating post-college chaos like real jobs and real heartbreaks. Will she choose stability or passion? Or – plot twist of the century – neither, opting for a glow-up that leaves both Fishers in the dust?

Fans are divided, timelines are exploding, and petitions for “Team Conrad Forever” are racking up signatures faster than likes on a thirst trap. One thing’s certain: Belly’s journey from altar runaway to birthday soulmate has us hooked, hearts in our throats, begging for more. Season 4 can’t come soon enough – because in the world of endless summers, love’s the only thing that never fades. Who’s your pick to claim the girl? Sound off in the comments; we know you’re dying to spill!