The opulent gala in Culpa Nuestra (Our Fault), the 2025 Prime Video conclusion to Mercedes Ron’s Culpable trilogy, serves as a glittering backdrop for simmering emotions, where Noah Morgan’s casual interaction with another man ignites Nick Leister’s lingering possessiveness. Directed by Domingo González and starring Nicole Wallace as Noah and Gabriel Guevara as Nick, the scene—set during a high-society wedding reception—captures the couple’s fragile reconciliation after years apart, highlighting how past heartbreaks fuel present insecurities. As the third installment in the Spanish-language YA romance series, which has amassed over 100 million global views since Culpa Mía (My Fault) debuted in 2023, this moment underscores the trilogy’s core theme: love’s endurance amid jealousy, class divides, and unspoken regrets.

The sequence unfolds roughly 45 minutes into the film’s 117-minute runtime, amid the lavish ceremony for Noah’s best friend Jenna Tavish and her groom, Lion—Nick’s closest confidant. Noah, now a poised young professional in New York after a self-imposed exile from their shared hometown, arrives as Jenna’s maid of honor, her elegant gown contrasting the vulnerability beneath. She’s attempting to rebuild her life post-breakup, focusing on her career in fashion while nursing wounds from Nick’s perceived betrayals in Culpa Tuya (Your Fault). Nick, the brooding heir to a family empire, attends as Lion’s best man, his sharp tuxedo masking the turmoil of seeing Noah again after four years of radio silence.

The air thickens during the reception’s cocktail hour, with crystal flutes clinking and string quartets playing softly in the candlelit ballroom. Noah, ever the social butterfly, engages in light conversation with Luca—a charismatic Italian businessman and mutual acquaintance introduced earlier as a potential client for her budding design firm. Luca’s easy charm and compliments on her latest sketches draw genuine laughter from Noah, a rare glimpse of her unburdened self. It’s an innocent exchange: shared anecdotes about Milan fashion weeks, a playful debate on vintage versus modern couture, and Luca’s offer to connect her with European contacts. For Noah, it’s a breath of fresh air—a reminder of her independence after years defined by Nick’s orbit.

But across the room, Nick’s demeanor shifts from polite detachment to barely veiled discomfort. Leaning against a marble pillar, champagne untouched, his jaw tightens as he watches from afar. His eyes narrow at Luca’s hand lightly brushing Noah’s arm during a gesture, and the easy rapport stings like salt in an old wound. Flashbacks intercut the moment—quick cuts to their heated arguments in prior films, Noah’s tearful accusations of Nick’s flirtations with ex Sophia Aiken, and his own defensive outbursts that drove her away. Nick’s jealousy, a recurring motif since Culpa Mía, resurfaces not as explosive rage but a quiet storm: furrowed brows, a clenched fist around his glass, and a forced smile when Lion teases him about “old flames flickering.” It’s a masterclass in Hardung’s subtle acting—Guevara’s portrayal conveys a man wrestling with regret, knowing his past actions (like the ambiguous dinner with Sophia that sparked Noah’s doubts) have eroded trust, yet unable to suppress the territorial pull.

The tension peaks when Luca excuses himself, leaving Noah to scan the crowd—her gaze locking with Nick’s across the sea of guests. The silence between them crackles; she offers a tentative smile, but he turns away, excusing himself to the terrace for “fresh air.” Noah follows moments later, the camera trailing her through French doors into the night-shrouded garden, where fairy lights twinkle like distant stars. Their confrontation is raw and understated: “You can’t just glare at every guy who talks to me, Nick,” she says, voice laced with exhaustion. He counters with a vulnerable admission—”Seeing you laugh like that… it should’ve been with me”—exposing the insecurity beneath his alpha facade. The exchange doesn’t resolve neatly; instead, it dissolves into a charged stare, underscoring the trilogy’s push-pull dynamic. As they re-enter the party separately, the unresolved friction lingers, foreshadowing the season’s emotional rollercoaster.

This scene, adapted faithfully from Ron’s 2018 Wattpad novel (later published traditionally), amplifies the book’s exploration of jealousy as a symptom of deeper fears—Nick’s dread of losing Noah to a “normal” life free of his family’s shadows, and her wariness of reigniting a flame that once burned too hot. In the film, González heightens the stakes with cinematography: close-ups on Nick’s whitening knuckles, wide shots framing Noah’s isolation amid the elite crowd, and a swelling score of acoustic guitar that echoes their shared history. Fans on Reddit’s r/CulpaMiaTuyaNuestra subreddit praised it as “the trilogy’s emotional gut-punch,” with one user noting, “Nick’s jealousy feels earned here—not toxic, but heartbreakingly human.” Another highlighted how it mirrors real blended-family tensions, drawing from Ron’s themes of step-sibling romance amid wealth disparities.

Critically, the moment elevates Culpa Nuestra beyond its steamy YA tropes. While the series has faced backlash for pacing issues—Culpa Tuya scored a middling 5.4 on IMDb for rushed plots—the gala stands out for its restraint, allowing dialogue and micro-expressions to drive the drama rather than over-the-top reveals. Wallace’s Noah conveys quiet strength, her laugh with Luca a shield against vulnerability, while Guevara’s Nick layers arrogance with ache, making his discomfort relatable. Supporting cast shines too: Marta Hazas as Noah’s mother adds maternal meddling, and Iván Sánchez as Nick’s father embodies the corporate pressure cooker fueling his son’s anxieties.

The scene’s ripple effects propel the plot: Nick’s unease prompts a reckless business decision at his family’s firm, echoing the novel’s themes of legacy versus love, while Noah’s interaction with Luca introduces a viable alternative suitor, testing her resolve. It ties back to earlier jealousies—like Noah’s suspicions over Sophia in Culpa Tuya, where a dinner scene amplified insecurities—or Nick’s reactions to her exes in Culpa Mía. Ron, in a 2024 Wattpad interview, explained drawing from personal observations of young love’s territorial edges: “Jealousy isn’t villainy; it’s fear of the unknown.”

For the trilogy’s global fanbase—spanning TikTok edits with #NickJealous (over 50 million views) to Spanish forums dissecting Ron’s prose—the gala encapsulates Culpa Nuestra‘s bittersweet closure. Released October 16, 2025, the film grossed 15 million streams in its debut week on Prime Video, per Nielsen data, buoyed by the series’ 100-million-view legacy. As Nick and Noah navigate reconciliation—culminating in a New York finale blending forgiveness with forward momentum—the scene reminds viewers: True connection thrives not despite flaws, but through facing them.

In a genre crowded with perfect pairings, Culpa Nuestra shines by humanizing its heroes. Nick’s party discomfort isn’t a plot device; it’s a mirror to every viewer who’s felt the sting of “what if.” As the credits roll on Ron’s saga, one thing’s clear: In love’s tense galas, the real dance is vulnerability—and Noah and Nick waltz it masterfully.