Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 11

It’s not real. But pretending… helps.

I’ve learned that pretense is a kind of bandage. It won’t stop the bleeding, not really. And it certainly won’t heal the wound. But sometimes, a bandage is all you have. A thin shield between you and the pain, flimsy enough to see through but strong enough to keep you standing. Pretending is survival’s quieter cousin. It’s the art of lying just enough to keep living.

And so we drove. The sun hit the windshield in bright white stripes, casting long shadows over the dashboard. He kept his eyes on the road, his hands gripping the wheel tighter than necessary. Neither of us said much, and that was okay. Sometimes silence is less about distance and more about mercy, two people choosing not to name the things that hurt too much to touch.

When we pulled up to the school gates, I gathered my bag slowly, not quite ready to leave the fragile illusion we’d wrapped ourselves in.

“Bye, Dad,” I said, reaching for the door handle.

He leaned over and pulled me into a hug. It lasted a little longer than usual. Just a second too long. Like he didn’t want to let go. Like letting go would be another kind of loss. Then he exhaled. Not loud, not dramatic. Just a soft, tired sigh, like the air had been waiting all morning to escape him. I tapped his shoulder twice, like I used to when I was a kid and didn’t know how to say I love you without saying it. Then I beamed him the smile I’d practiced so well, the one that said, I’m okay, you’re okay, we’re okay, even when none of it was true. He smiled back, or tried to. And I stepped out into the noise of the world, carrying our silence with me like a second skin.

The school grounds hummed with the usual morning chaos, footsteps on pavement, lockers slamming, laughter too loud for how early it was. I kept my head down, moving through the current like driftwood, letting the noise wash over me without letting it in.

And then I heard it.

"Betty."

Just one word. Soft, familiar.

A voice I had heard before, not just yesterday or the day before that, but in the dream. That dream I had nearly forgotten, lost beneath the weight of what happened at home. But now it came rushing back. Blurred faces. Half-spoken sentences. The ocean. His eyes. Images flickered in my mind like a film reel catching fire.

His voice again.

"Betty."

And then, a hand, warm and real, on my shoulder. I turned sharply, breath caught halfway between two worlds.

It was James.

In his uniform. Collared shirt slightly wrinkled, tie askew, backpack slung over one shoulder like he didn’t care if it fell. His hair was still a little messy from the wind, or maybe from sleep.

But his eyes---

They were smiling. Like the sun was somewhere behind them, pushing through. There was a new light in them, something gentler. Not loud, not obvious. Just… soft. Like dawn sneaking past a curtain.

“You okay?” he asked.

I blinked once, still tethered to fragments of the dream, and then managed a nod.

“Yeah. Just--- tired.”

He glanced at my bag. “Let me carry that.”

I hesitated, and then handed it over without a word. The weight left my shoulder, and for some reason, I missed it. It reminded me I was holding something. That I still had things to carry. We walked side by side toward the building. My heart beat too loud in my ears, but I smiled like I wasn’t falling apart.