Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 30

The lump in my throat swelled.

We didn’t speak after that. We just sat there, quietly sharing fries and silence, the rest of the cafeteria blurring into background noise.

The light shifted. A breeze made the plastic napkin dispenser rattle faintly. And for a moment, it felt like we were the only two people on earth.

And maybe that’s what love really is.

Not the loud declarations or grand gestures. But someone choosing you, softly, consistently, when no one else is watching. Specially when no one is watching.

The afternoon sun was soft, a sleepy kind of gold that dusted the tops of buildings and kissed the petals of the bushes lining the path to the school gate. My bag felt lighter today, but my chest didn’t. I was thinking about James, about what he said at lunch. About the way he held my hand like it was a lifeline.

I was almost at the gate where he always waited, leaning on his beat-up car with that crooked smile and his music playing too loud.

But today, the sound that reached me wasn’t music. It was muffled sobs.

I slowed.

There, sitting alone on the bench by the gate, was Corey. His head was in his hands. Shoulders shaking. His usually perfect hair tousled like he had run his fingers through it too many times in frustration.

My heart dropped.

I walked over gently, my footsteps quiet on the pavement. “Hey,” I said, voice soft as I knelt beside him. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t look up right away. His voice cracked. “W-we broke up, B.”

My breath caught. “Wait. You and Drake? But… you were fine yesterday.”

He nodded, barely. “We were. We really were.” His eyes, red-rimmed and glassy, finally met mine. “But Coach came to me after practice. He said… he said I could ruin Drake’s future. His reputation. Because of my gender.”

My stomach twisted. I didn’t know if it was anger or heartbreak, or both at once. “What the hell,” I whispered. “That’s not...”

“I know,” Corey interrupted. “God, I know. But B… this world… this reality… it’s not ready for our love.” His voice broke again. “And I...I think I made a mistake. I let him go because I thought it would protect him. But now... I don’t know. I want him. I still want him.”

He broke again, leaning forward, crying into his hands like the world had finally proven to him that love, no matter how pure, wasn’t always enough.

I sat down next to him, slow, steady. I didn’t speak right away. What do you even say to that? When love becomes collateral damage in the war between progress and prejudice?

Instead, I gently placed a hand on his back. Circular, calming motions. Like I used to do for my mom when she’d cry silently in the kitchen after Dad locked himself in their room again. Like how I touched James’s shoulder when he trembled in the night.

We all carry pain in different shapes.

Corey’s was loud today.

“I’m sorry,” I finally said, barely more than a whisper. “This world should never make you feel like you have to shrink your love to fit its mold.”

He nodded through his tears. “It just… it hurts so much. I never thought it would feel like this.”

I nodded too. “Love isn’t meant to be hidden. And it sure as hell shouldn’t have to be sacrificed.”

We sat there, side by side, just breathing. His cries softened to sniffles, and the school gate buzzed open behind us. James stood there, watching quietly, hands in his pockets.

I stood slowly and squeezed Corey’s hand. “You did what you thought was right… but it’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to feel like you’re unraveling. Just promise me you won’t let this world convince you that your love is any less real.”

He looked at me then, something in his expression shifting... like the tiniest thread of hope trying to tie itself back together.

I walked toward James, who silently opened the passenger door for me.

As I slid in, I saw Corey sit up straighter, wipe his face with his sleeve.

And for a second, I wondered if heartbreak would ever be less cruel to the softest souls.

James reached for my hand as he drove.

He held it tight.

Maybe too tight.

But I didn’t let go.