'The Summer I Turned Pretty' Season 3 Finale Review: Belly’s Choice Was Obvious — But That’s Why It Works

The Summer I Turned Pretty Season 3 finale gave us everything — the anticipation at the airport, the chase through the train station and the melodramatic confession — enough to make Raj from Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge (1995) proud.

The show that's had everyone from ages 12 to 52 in an emotional chokehold has finally ended, and the finale? Well, it was… expected. Anyone who grew up reading YA fiction saw it coming — Belly (Lola Tung) had to choose Conrad (Christopher Briney). From the very first episode, when she drives into the summer house in Cousins and locks eyes with him, to the final shot of the two entering that same house together, it was always meant to be them. As Belly says throughout the show: It was always Conrad.

But she’s not the same girl anymore. She’s Isabel now (thank god for that), with a bob, bright lipstick, and an Emily in Paris wardobe.

When Conrad shows up unannounced in Paris, it’s not a sweeping, tear-jerking, Yash Chopra-style reunion. Jenny Han nails the awkwardness of meeting an old love after time and distance have done their thing. Belly’s visibly flushed; Conrad’s curious to see her new life. They play tourist in the city before heading to Belly’s birthday party, where Conrad meets her Parisian friends— including her now-ex, Benito. But not before Han gives us the scene. Because what’s a coming-of-age story without the moment where the girl walks in all dressed up and the boy picks his jaw up from the floor?

At the party, we’re treated to the usual “Parisians in an American show” tropes: endless wine, dramatic enunciation, and philosophical musings. One friend even breaks the fourth wall, comparing Belly and Conrad’s love story to a movie — half the audience chanting “Do it, Conrad!” and the other half screaming “Don’t!” Which, honestly, perfectly captures what social media feeds have been like for the past few weeks.

On their way back, Belly and Conrad are dancing in the street, beside what looks suspiciously like the spot where Van Gogh painted Starry Night. It’s got all the romance: girl in a black dress, wearing the boy’s jacket, twirling under golden Parisian streetlights. But it’s also… strange. They revisit their ugliest moments — their fight at prom, Belly asking Conrad to 'go to hell' at his mom's funeral — and discuss why she hadn't responded to his letters and also why he came to Paris.

While the trilogy that the show is based in was written in 2009, who mails a confessional letter across continents without texting first in 2025? And who shows up unannounced in another country like it’s the 19th century? Leather-strap-watch-wearing Conrad, that’s who.

Meanwhile, back in Cousins, the gang’s moved on. Jeremiah (Gavin Casalegno), fresh off heartbreak and a near-marriage, suddenly finds peace: he reconciles with his father Adam, discovers a passion for cooking (with no buildup), and even stumbles into a new love interest — all in one fell swoop. It’s clear the writers didn’t want you feeling too bad about Conrad and Belly’s slow-burn reunion.

Taylor (Rain Spencer) and Steven (Sean Kaufman), however, carry the show. Watching them grow past their immature bickering and become a grounded, loving couple is genuinely heartwarming. Laurel (Jackie Chung) and John’s (Colin Ferguson) quiet rediscovery of happiness is equally adorable.

And speaking of MVPs: Taylor Swift may as well have directed this season. Her music is practically dictating the dialogues of the show — from “Red” (cue the red motif whenever Belly and Conrad are together) to “Lover” in flashbacks to childhood moments, and emotional gut-punches like “Dress” and “Out of the Woods” scoring the finale's most climactic scenes.

One moment stands out: the long-awaited conversation. Do Belly and Conrad really love each other — or is it just because Susannah would’ve wanted it? Thankfully, the answer is clear. It’s real love. Complicated, messy, sometimes frustrating — but real. And that makes all the difference.

The Summer I Turned Pretty was always meant to be a guilty pleasure — and it never pretended to be anything more. It didn’t try to be edgy, political or groundbreaking. It was never about reinventing the genre; it was about reminding us why we loved it in the first place.

It made you wait for Wednesdays, it made you feel 17 again, it made you text your friends mid-episode, plan watch-parties, cry over stupid boys, and argue online about Team Conrad vs Team Jeremiah.

And at the end of the day — isn’t that what great television does?