Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 4

The last thing I felt was his hand slipping from mine. And the way my fingers curled instinctively, as if they could hold onto the moment just a little longer.

When my eyes finally opened, the ceiling of my room stared back at me, plain, unremarkable, bathed in pale morning light. The scent of the dream was gone, replaced by the familiar detergent of my pillowcase. But my skin still tingled, like it remembered his touch. My chest still ached in the shape of his smile.

I turned onto my side, curled into myself, and let the silence wrap around me.

I didn’t understand what the dream meant. I didn’t know who he was, or why he felt so important. But something inside me had shifted.

It wasn’t just a dream. It was a moment. A feeling. A thread I wasn’t ready to let go of.

And somehow, deep in my gut, I knew I would see him again.

Wherever...whoever...he was.

The morning passed like a quiet song stuck in my head, familiar, lingering, but half-forgotten. Even as I brushed my hair and packed my books, my thoughts stayed soft, faraway, still drifting somewhere between that dream and the way his hand had felt in mine. I couldn’t name it, but I carried it with me like a secret pressed into my palm.

By the time I reached school, the noise of the world had returned in full, bells chiming, footsteps echoing against concrete, laughter breaking against lockers like waves on stone. I moved through the hallways like I was slightly underwater, not quite slow, just… detached. Not lost, exactly. Just listening. Watching. Breathing.

Then, there was Matt.

“Hey, B,” he said with a little half-smile, falling into step beside me. His voice was bright, casual, but there was a flicker in his eyes like he could see something in my expression I hadn’t said out loud. I offered him a quiet smile back, small, but real. I didn’t have the words yet. I was still holding the dream in my chest, too tightly to speak.

But before I could even say much, a familiar hand looped through my arm, tugging me away with chaotic purpose.

“Come on!” Inez said, eyes lit up with that wild, hurricane energy that only she could carry this early in the morning. “We’re gonna be late, and Oxford is not the forgiving type, even for pretty girls like us.”

I barely had time to glance back at Matt before Inez pulled me toward Room 109. Her grip was warm, steady, grounding me in the present again.

As we slipped into the hum of our homeroom, I finally let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. The classroom smelled faintly of dry erase markers, old wood, and whatever someone spilled on the floor months ago that no one bothered to clean. Familiar chaos. Our usual corner was waiting for us by the window, second row, middle seats, sunlight pooling across our desks in soft rectangles.

Inez flopped into her chair and immediately pulled out one of her earbuds, offering it to me like a ritual. I smiled. She always had a song ready for the morning. A soundtrack to whatever mood she decided we were in. I took the earbud, pressing it into place.

“What is it today?” I asked softly.

She grinned. “A throwback. Taylor Swift. Old-school. You ever heard The Outside?”

The title struck a chord in me, shivering and strange. My brows lifted as the opening chords filled my ear: raw, simple guitar strums, young and aching. Taylor’s voice followed, soft but stubborn, like she was still figuring out how to stand tall in a world that kept trying to make her small. I let the words sink in.

"So, how can I ever try to be better?
Nobody ever let's me in
And I can still see you, this ain't the best view
On the outside looking in
I've been a lot of lonely places
I've never been on the outside"