Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 34

"Everything would fall into place," Inez had once said, with the kind of certainty only people in love ever seem to carry. Like gravity wasn’t something to worry about. Like life would rearrange itself the way stars do, chaotic but somehow still beautiful, even from a distance.

Now, sitting in the cafeteria with James beside me, I could almost believe it.

The sun cast diagonal beams across the cracked tiles. The scent of garlic rice and overly sweetened iced tea clung to the air, mixing with something warm and familiar, the unmistakable smell of youth pretending it has time. Laughter rang from the far end of the room. Forks clinked. Someone’s shoe squeaked against the floor.

James’s knee rested gently against mine under the table. Not intentional, maybe. Or maybe it was. But he didn’t move, and neither did I. I just sat there, letting the quiet pressure of his presence anchor me like a thumb pressed to a page you didn’t want to lose.

Inez had her legs swung over Tim’s lap, animatedly telling a story he was only half-listening to because he was too busy looking at her like she’d invented light. Drake and Corey were across from us, feeding each other bits of mango float with two spoons and too much laughter. Corey had crushed graham on his nose. Drake kissed it off.

And for a moment, everything felt... suspended. Fragile. Like a snow globe moment, still, small, and sealed in glass.

One piece of the puzzle was missing.

Matt’s seat was empty. His usual precise, straight-backed posture replaced by absence. His perfectly folded napkin, his untouched tray. A quiet gap no one could fill.

But for now, this, this odd constellation of friends, scarred and stitched back together, this was enough for me.

James was halfway through peeling the label off his bottled water when I noticed it, small nods, almost imperceptible, from a few students across the cafeteria. A girl from the science club. One of the boys from the basketball team. Even a junior I barely knew who once gave James the coldest look in the hallway.

They weren’t grand gestures, no standing ovation. Just quiet acknowledgments, like tiny post-it notes from the universe reminding me: You were right to believe in him.

I watched James notice them too. He didn’t smile, not really. But his shoulders softened, and he stopped peeling the label like his hands finally had permission to rest.

I reached out and held his hand under the table. He looked at me, eyes a little surprised, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to feel okay yet.

“You know,” I said, leaning in with a small smile, “I think someone just nodded at you like you’re a male lead in a hollywood movie.”

He blinked. “You sure it wasn’t just a twitch?”

“Nope. That was a full-on respectful nod. Classic ‘I misjudged you but now I’m rooting for you’ energy.”

James chuckled, low and warm. “Should I start doing slow-motion walks in the hallway now?”

“With the wind blowing through your hair, obviously,” I said. “Maybe in black and white. You’ll need a soundtrack too. Something moody and poetic.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Okay, but only if you’re the one walking beside me, looking like the love interest who saves the day.”

My cheeks warmed. “I already do. Haven’t you seen the trailers?”

“Oh, I have,” he teased. “You’re always walking in slow motion while I trip in the background.”

“Art imitates life.”