Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 10

“For seeing something in me,” he replies. “Even when I’m not sure I do.”

The honesty in his voice startles me. No sarcasm. No smirk. Just truth, naked and a little raw.

I swallow. “My mom used to say that. That we should always believe. That we should look for the light in people, even if it’s buried deep.”

His gaze flickers to me, curious. “Sounds like a good mom.”

“She was,” I whisper. “She believed in everyone.”

He exhales slowly, the sound barely rising above the waves.

“You’re lucky,” he says after a beat. “To have parents like that.”

I look at him. “What about yours?”

He hesitates. I see it, the flicker of pain he tries to blink away, like dust in his eye.

“My mom’s… distant,” he says finally. “Like she’s there but not really there. And my dad…” He trails off, jaw tightening. “He used to call me his ‘basketball star.’ Used to show off to his friends about me. But now, it’s like… I’m just some disappointment he has to deal with.”

The words hang between us, cold and heavy. And in that moment, I see it, not the boy who acts like nothing touches him, but the boy who feels everything and has nowhere to put it.

He’s not a bad person. Not a hopeless case.

He’s just… wounded.

And maybe that’s why I see him so clearly now. Because I’ve been taught to believe. To look past the noise and find the truth inside.

Thank you, Mom, I think, for giving me eyes that don’t just see, they understand.

Without thinking, I reach for his hand.

His palm is warm against mine, fingers instinctively curling around mine like they’ve done it before in some other lifetime.

He turns his face toward me.

I do the same.

The world slows. Shrinks. Becomes only the space between us. His breath fans against my cheek, and mine catches somewhere in my throat. Our eyes lock, searching for something neither of us can name. Our foreheads almost touch. Our noses brush.

It feels like two broken pieces, sharp at the edges, lost on their own, finally sliding into place beside each other. Not to complete, but to complement. To create something entirely new.

And then---

A bright white beam explodes into our faces.

We jerk back instantly, blinking hard.

A man in a neon green vest stands above us, holding a flashlight with the authority of someone who really doesn’t want to be here.

“No sex on the beach, please,” he says, stone-faced.

We both freeze.

James coughs.

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop a laugh.

The man nods once, turns off the flashlight, and walks off down the beach like this happens every night.

There’s a silence, thick and awkward. I stare in the opposite direction. James does too.

And then---

We both burst into laughter.

Ugly, real, unfiltered laughter that echoes into the sea and sounds too loud in the quiet night.

I clutch my stomach. “Oh my god.”

He wipes tears from the corner of his eye. “No sex on the beach---what even---?”

“We weren’t even kissing yet!”

“Dude jumped the plot!”

Our giggles dissolve into breathless chuckles, and for the first time in what feels like a long time, I feel weightless.

Not because life is perfect. But because right here, under the stars and interrupted by a random tanod, I’m with someone who doesn’t make me feel like I have to pretend I’m okay.

Just… someone who sees me. And maybe, just maybe, I see him too.

James drives in silence, one hand on the wheel, the other fiddling with the volume knob. The breeze slips through the open window, warm and salted, tugging at the strands of my hair like playful fingers. The radio plays something soft,  nothing like Taylor Swift’s chaotic joy earlier, just a hum of background comfort.

The night is still settling in as he pulls up in front of my house.

“Thanks,” I say, quietly but sincerely.

He looks at me, eyes warm under the dashboard glow.

Before I can overthink it, I lean over and kiss him, not on the lips, but just gently on the cheek. I feel his skin catch fire beneath mine.

Then I open the door. “Goodnight.”

I run up the steps before I can see his reaction.

Once inside, I lean against the closed front door, breathless and smiling like an idiot. I glance out the window, and there he is.

James is standing next to his car, both fists raised in a silent YES! like he’s just made the winning shot at the buzzer. Then he looks up and spots me at the window. He smiles, wide, proud, like a boy who never expected the night to go his way, and waves.

I lift my hand and wave back.

He gets into his car and drives off into the night.

I turn around only to find my dad standing at the bottom of the staircase, arms crossed, one brow slightly raised.

“You’re home early,” he says, teasing.

“Goodnight, Dad,” I reply, breezing past him, cheeks still warm.

He chuckles behind me. “Night, kid.”

In my room, I lie in bed still wearing the smile he gave me. The ocean scent clings faintly to my clothes, and my skin remembers the warmth of his hand. For a brief moment, everything feels possible.

And for the first time in a while, I fall asleep still smiling.

Until---

That dream.

Again.

The air feels thick and water-heavy. I am floating, weightless and powerless, in a vast nothingness. No ground. No sky. Just black.

And that same voice, panicked, calls my name. Over and over.

But I can’t reach him.

A silent force begins pulling at me --- harder this time. Like gravity reversed.

“Betty!” he yells again, his voice stretching, warping.

I reach toward the sound.

But I’m falling. No --- rising. Or maybe just… disappearing.

The last thing I hear is my own name breaking apart in his voice---

And then, darkness.

My eyes snap open.

It’s morning.

The light pours in through the cracks in the curtain.

But all I feel is cold.