Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 33

Days stretched thin like tattered cloth between my fingers, the weight of knowing the truth, pressing down on me with relentless gravity. I wandered the school halls, eyes scanning every shadow, every corner, every face for James. But his absence was a heavy silence that swallowed the spaces where he once stood. No classes. No signs. Just a memory of what had been.

My phone became my lifeline, a string I clung to with desperate hope. Texts sent into nothingness, unanswered. Calls left ringing, only to die unanswered.

“Inez… I need to talk to James,” I whispered one morning, voice fragile as thin glass.

Her eyes held the quiet understanding of someone who had seen too much.

“Still no answer?” she asked gently. I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“Can’t blame him, Betts,” she said softly.

I looked down, feeling the cold weight of shame settle deep in my chest. Maybe she was right. Maybe the world was too loud and unforgiving for him now.

Then, through the open windows, the crisp autumn air carried a voice, a crackling, echoey voice bouncing off the courtyard walls. Drake’s voice, clear and bright despite the microphone’s static. I stepped outside, drawn to the flutter of balloons and the crowd gathering.

Drake stood at the center, his breath visible in the chill, a nervous energy forming in his hands clutching the microphone. His voice wavered, then grew strong, pouring into the open air:

“Love isn’t just a feeling,” he began, eyes scanning the crowd, landing on Corey. “It’s a battle cry. It’s the courage to face the world when it’s set against you. It’s choosing someone, not because they’re perfect, but because you see their light even in the darkest moments. It’s bravery, the kind that shakes your bones and makes your heart both break and soar.”

He took a breath, voice rising like a flame against the cold.

“Love is messy. It’s painful. It’s terrifying. But it’s also the strongest thing we’ve got. So I’m standing here, balloons in one hand and my whole heart in the other, to say this loud and clear: I love you, Corey Gonzales. I don’t care what the world says. I just want you beside me.”

The words settled inside me like warm rain on dry earth. How raw. How vulnerable. How fiercely brave.

Inez nudged me gently. “Well, our friend has done it, B. How about you?”

I swallowed hard, the breath catching deep in my lungs. “Even statues crumble if they're made to wait,” she added, voice soft, almost a prayer.

And maybe that was it, the terrible truth of love. It needs tending, or it shatters. It needs belief, or it withers. Maybe the proof I craved wasn’t in grand gestures or whispered rumors, but in the quiet persistence to keep reaching, keep hoping, keep choosing, even when the world says let go. Because love isn’t just a feeling. It’s the stubborn flame burning against the cold wind of doubt. It’s the courage to stand vulnerable in a world that wants you to hide. And maybe... maybe that’s the kind of bravery I have to find in myself.

That afternoon, I stood by the school gate, the cool breeze tugging at the loose strands of my hair, the faint scent of rain lingering in the air. My fingers nervously twisted the strap of my bag, every second stretching like thick honey as I waited for Dad to pick me up. The low hum of distant traffic mingled with the murmur of students drifting home, a soundtrack I barely noticed.

Suddenly, a car slowed beside me, its windows sliding down with a slow mechanical whisper. The world seemed to hush. My eyes met the face that appeared, James’s dad. His eyes held something I wasn’t prepared for: a fragile mix of hesitation, shame, and something more bare.... desperation. He looked like a man caught between the weight of regret and the tight grip of hope.