Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 23

She let out a quiet laugh through her tears.

“I used to think basketball would be the thing to fix everything. That if I played hard enough, made enough shots, won enough trophies, maybe he’d see me. Maybe he’d remember calling me his little star once. But then you showed up, and suddenly I didn’t care if he looked at me anymore. I just wanted you to.”

I ran my fingers through her hair. She leaned into the touch.

“I wanted to make you laugh. At lunch. In class. In the hallway, even when you barely looked up. I just wanted you to stay long enough to know I wasn’t like the others.”

Her eyes flickered. Something softened.

“I’ve loved you when you were quiet. When you were angry. When you were tired of pretending to be fine. I’ve seen you shut yourself in, B… but I also saw you tonight. I saw the fire in you when you stood up for me. When you slammed your fork on that table and spoke like no one ever had- for me.”

I took a shaky breath.

“You said everything I couldn’t. You were brave. You did it for me, even though the world’s already been unfair to you. Even though I know you’re tired. You still… chose to fight. For me.”

I paused, because even thinking about it made my chest hurt in the best way.

“And I love you for that.”
our favorite
She didn’t speak. Her face crumbled a little. I could tell she didn’t expect this moment, not like this, not on a curb under a streetlight with puffy eyes and a trembling heart- but God, she was beautiful.

I smiled. “I love the way you look at people when they talk, like they matter. I love the way you smile when you hear any Taylor Swift song, or how you always stop to help someone carry their books. I love that you’re strong but still let yourself feel. That you cry, and rage, and laugh—all with the same honesty. That’s real, B. You’re real.”

She started to cry again. I stepped closer, cupped her face fully in my palms.

“I love that you fight for the people you love. Even when it hurts. Even when it’s hard.”

A pause. The music from a nearby house floated toward us on the breeze.
Taylor Swift’s voice:
“Drop everything now… Meet me in the pouring rain…”

I smiled.

“So,” I whispered, voice thick but certain now, “what I’m trying to say is---Betty, will you be my girlfriend?”

Her breath caught.

And then---she laughed through a sob. Nodded. Said it fast, over and over like it wasn’t even a question.

“Yes, James. Yes.”

I pulled her into me. Held her so close I could feel her heartbeat through my shirt. She fit there, like she always had. Her arms wrapped around my waist and didn’t let go.

I closed my eyes.

The music played on.

“’Cause I see sparks fly, whenever you smile…”

And I swear, I did. Right there. With her in my arms, under that streetlamp, on the corner of an ordinary street, the world finally made sense.

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Journal Entry – September 12th

I think something cracked open in me tonight. Maybe it was the way his father talked about him like he wasn’t even in the room. Maybe it was the sound of my fork slamming against the table. Maybe it was me--- finally reaching the edge of something I’ve been tiptoeing around for months. I cried. In front of everyone. And I ran. I don’t usually do that.

But then James came after me.

He called my name like it meant something. And when I turned around, it felt like I was eight years old again--- when everything was too loud and too heavy and I just needed someone to see me.

He saw me.

He held me.

He kissed me.

It wasn’t like the movies. It wasn’t perfect. But maybe that’s why it meant more. He tasted like mints and something sweet I couldn’t place, like a memory I hadn’t had yet. His hands were warm, and his voice was steady, even when everything in me was shaking.

And then he said it.

All the things I think I secretly wished he’d say but never let myself believe. He told me I was brave. That I was still me, even if I didn’t feel like it anymore. That I hadn’t disappeared. And maybe he’s right.

Maybe I’m not whole, not yet. But tonight, I felt like I was enough.

I can still feel the sting of everything I’ve lost. That part hasn’t changed. But it’s quieter now--- less like a scream and more like a hum I can live with. There’s this little flicker in my chest. Like something survived.

Hope, maybe.

Or something close to it.

—B.