Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 14

“Thank you,” I whispered.

It came out small, unsure, like I was afraid even gratitude might break the spell.

James looked away, as if he didn’t want to press further. His gaze drifted around the living room, taking in the dim light, the cluttered table, the framed photos on the shelf.

Then his eyes paused.

I followed his line of sight and saw what caught him. The portrait of my parents on the wall, taken on some old anniversary, back when Mom’s laugh filled the house and Dad still wore collared shirts on Sundays.

James stared at it quietly, something unreadable tightening in his expression.

I didn’t say anything. I just let the moment sit between us like an unspoken truth.

Matt returned like a whirlwind, his grin so wide it nearly fell off his face. “B,” he said, still half-laughing, “your dad gave us these. Thought James might want a drink too.”

He held up two cold bottles of beer, Dad’s beer.

My heart dropped. The warmth in the room dissolved like sugar in hot tea.

My spine stiffened as I sat up straighter, eyes flicking from the bottles to Matt’s face, still flushed from the bathroom or from pride, I couldn’t tell.

I didn’t say anything at first. Just stared at the bottles, the brand I knew too well, the clinking sound as Matt handed one to James like it was just any other Friday night hangout.

I felt the cold rush through me, not from the bottle, but from the shame. Or maybe it was something deeper than shame.

He was drinking again.
And Matt saw it. They both saw it.

I wanted to say he’s not like that all the time. That he’s trying. That the soda and store-bought cookies on the table were proof. That he’s hurting but showing up the best way he can.

But I didn’t say anything.

I just looked at James. And he was already looking at me, not with judgment, but something closer to understanding. Or maybe concern.

I realized it then, it already happened. There’s nothing I could do now except try not to let the weight of it settle in my chest. So I gave the smallest nod, like I was saying go ahead or maybe I’m fine even if I wasn’t.

James and Matt headed out to the porch, the screen door creaking slightly as it opened. I heard the gentle pop of bottle caps, their voices low, maybe laughing.

I stayed in the living room, suddenly alone in a room that didn’t feel like mine anymore.

The notes on the table blurred in front of me. I blinked and forced myself to focus, scanning a page about linear equations I already knew by heart.

I picked up a pen. Underlined the same sentence three times. Willed the buzzing in my ears to go away.

I wanted to be just a girl having a study night with her friends.

But it was hard to forget the part where your dad tries to help and ends up handing over his grief in the form of cold glass bottles.

I bit the inside of my cheek.

And went back to solving for x.

I put the pen down.

My fingers curled into a fist, then loosened again. The tip of the pen rolled slightly across the notebook paper like it was waiting for me to write something down, anything, but I couldn’t move.