Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 27

------Tim------

Sportsfest Day 2

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The day was bright and cruelly sunny, like the kind of morning when kingdoms go to war under blue skies because the weather’s too beautiful to waste. I stood in the middle of the court with my teammates, armorless but sweating like a peasant in chainmail, watching James Gray pace like a cursed prince who lost sight of his crown.

Betty.

He hadn’t seen her all morning, and it showed. His shoulders were slumped even while holding a ball, his eyes scanned the crowd like a falcon on a mission, except his target wasn’t a threat, it was his peace.

Coach Alfred barked like an old village general. “Hey, Gray! You okay?”

James blinked, snapped back to the battlefield. “Yes, Coach.”

“You better be. The game needs you laser focused.” The man clapped his hands like thunder and called everyone in.

I caught James’s eye and nudged him. “Bro…”

He didn’t answer, just looked at the floor like it was whispering things he didn’t want to hear.

I sighed. “Come on. She’s fine. She’s Betty.” I said her name like a spell, like it should’ve been enough to remind him that she was made of tougher stuff than glass slippers. But he looked at me, and there was something hollow in his gaze.

“I’m just worried, bro. She’s been touching her wrists again. I’m afraid of what she’d do when I’m not there to protect her.”

Ah. So it was that kind of worry. Not dragon-slaying. Not heartbreak. The quiet, creeping kind. The kind that eats away at you like ivy on old stone.

“Don’t worry,” I tried to smile. “Inez is with her.”

James just raised a brow.

I laughed. “Okay, maybe that makes it worse.” I gave his shoulder a friendly punch. “But still. That girl has survived storms bigger than you, James. And she’s still here.”

He didn’t reply. So I did what any good squire-slash-best-friend would do. I texted Inez.

"Baby? Prince Charming here wants to check on his princess."

A moment later, the screen lit up.

"We’re eating takoyaki by the Annex. I got her okay. Tell him he’s such a paranoid dork."

I showed James the message. He read it, then exhaled like a knight pulling off his helmet after battle. His hands were still clenched, but softer now.

We wore our jerseys like armor, stitched with numbers and names, but heavy with more than fabric. They carried hope, pressure, and for James, the weight of a girl not in the stands.

Drake finally arrived, a bit late as always, tossing his bag down with the grace of a troll entering a ball. “Yo, warm-up time?” he grinned.

The court echoed with shoes squeaking and balls thudding against wood. We moved like knights sharpening swords, syncing up in drills, but our prince wasn’t in rhythm.

“GRAY!” Coach barked across the court. “You’re out of sync again!”

James barely blinked.

Drake jogged beside me, panting. “What’s up with him?”

“Didn’t see Betty this morning,” I muttered, flicking sweat from my brow.

Drake scoffed, pushing a curl from his forehead. “For real? Guy’s really spiraling, huh.”