Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 15

“I guess I have to,” she said. “But I kind of wish I didn’t have to ask for him to show up, you know?”

I nodded again.

We sat there, the sun casting gold patterns on the pavement, the echoes of laughter fading into something quieter.

It felt like growing up.

Just as Inez began tracing something on the bench with her nail, a heart, maybe, or the start of her name, my gaze drifted across the courtyard.

And there she was.

Olive.

Far off, near the faculty building’s side entrance, standing just slightly out of the sun like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be seen or not. Her uniform was perfectly pressed, her bag slung over one shoulder, her green bow tie at the back holding her short hair perfectly into place. But it wasn’t the way she looked that got to me.

It was the way she was looking at me.

Unmoving. Calm. Too calm. The kind of stillness that feels unnatural,  like the moment before an animal attacks, or the silence right after a dropped glass shatters.

Her eyes weren’t angry. Just watchful. Intense.

Unsettling.

A tight chill ran down my arms despite the heat. I blinked and turned back, heart knocking a little harder than it should.

“Earth to Betty?” Inez tugged on my sleeve. “You just time traveled.”

“Huh?” I forced a laugh. “Sorry. Zoned out.”

She gave me a playful look. “You were totally picturing kissing James again, weren’t you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Please.”

“You’re blushing.”

“Stop narrating my face.”

“Then spill,” she grinned. “What’s going on with you two? And don’t give me the ‘it’s complicated’ crap. I know the way you look at each other, like you’re trying not to.”

I looked down at my hands.

“It’s... going somewhere, I think,” I said slowly. “And I want to believe it’s going somewhere good.”

Inez nodded, waiting. She always gave people space to finish their thoughts. She wasn’t just loud and sunshine and glitter, she listened.

“And you know,” I added, voice a little softer, “I think my mom was right.”

“About what?”

“About believing in people’s goodness. That it’s not stupid. Or naïve. That in a world where everyone’s doubting each other, trying to win, trying to keep safe, trusting someone is kind of... revolutionary. Like, maybe the rarest thing you can do.”

Inez looked at me for a long moment, the wind brushing a few strands of her hair into her eyes.

“It’s easy to call someone foolish for seeing the good,” I went on, “but I think it’s harder to choose to see it. Harder to keep choosing it even when the world gives you reasons not to. Maybe the good things are the hardest.”

For a second, she didn’t say anything.

Then she sighed.

Not loud. Not exaggerated. Just a quiet little breath that felt like something slipping out she didn’t mean to share.

And I saw it, a flicker in her expression. Like a cloud passing over the sun. The sparkle didn’t vanish, but it dimmed. Just enough.

It made me wonder what she wasn’t saying. If it was Tim. Or something else entirely.

Maybe even people like Inez, golden, glittering, always laughing, had shadows that didn’t show unless you were really looking.

I didn’t push. Just reached over and rested my head on her shoulder, and she leaned hers against mine.

And for a minute, we stayed like that.

Two girls on a cracked bench, holding their own small truths in the middle of a world that kept spinning, whispering, and watching, sometimes from a distance.
That night, as I curled beneath my blanket, the smell of garlic still clinging faintly to my fingers, I felt full in the way that wasn’t just about food.

Dinner had been simple, tuyo and malunggay stew, the kind of meal that warmed more than just the stomach. My dad had cooked it humming an old tune, something my mom used to sing under her breath when she thought no one was listening. I didn’t say anything, but I noticed. I always noticed.

The salt still lingered on my lips, the comfort of home folded into every bite. For once, I didn’t feel like I had to think too hard about anything. Not about Olive’s stare. Not about James’s heartbeat when he spun me around. Not about Matt, or Inez, or the strange weight behind her sigh.

I just... breathed.

The soft buzz of my phone broke the stillness. I turned over lazily, expecting a message from James, maybe another meme or a “Don’t forget sunscreen, nerd.”

But it wasn’t him.

It was Tim.

Just a short message.

“B, I need your help.”

I sat up slowly, blinking at the screen, rereading the words like they might rearrange themselves into something different.

Tim never messaged me directly. Not like this. Not without Inez involved.

The weight of those five words pressed against my chest like a question I didn’t know how to answer yet.

Whatever it was, I knew something had shifted.

The night no longer felt so quiet.