Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 34

We both laughed, and for a moment, the sound felt like sunlight, something soft and golden and entirely undeserved after the storm we’d weathered.

Tim made a loud whooping sound across the table, Inez mock-scolded him, and Corey fed Drake a spoonful of rice like they were in a cheesy rom-com.

It was loud and messy and a little ridiculous.

But it felt like home.

James leaned toward me, lowering his voice. “I’ve missed this.”

I looked at him. “Lunch?”

“No,” he said, gently brushing his thumb over my knuckles. “Us. You. This feeling. Like… breathing doesn’t hurt anymore.”

My heart tugged.

“I’m glad,” I whispered. “You’re safe now. We both are.”

He glanced at our friends, the table full of food and half-spilled water bottles and the chaos of inside jokes bouncing around.

“Feels like the start of something,” he said.

I nodded. “Maybe it’s the middle. Or the part where the healing begins.”

James squeezed my hand. “Remind me of this next time I start spiraling.”

I smiled. “I’ll bring flashcards.”

“With glitter?”

“And annotations. Maybe a pie chart.”

He laughed again, louder this time, eyes crinkling the way they used to.

“I like you like this,” I said softly. “Lighter.”

He looked at me, serious for a second. “I like me like this too. When I’m with you.”

I couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed across my face. “You’re really laying it on thick today, huh?”

“Can you blame me?” he said, eyes warm. “You’re kind of my favorite person.”

I leaned in closer, forehead brushing his. “Then I guess I’ll have to stay.”

He closed his eyes, breathed me in like a promise. “Stay as long as you want.”

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The next morning, the smell of garlic rice and fried eggs welcomed me before I even opened my eyes. I padded into the kitchen, still in my oversized shirt, and found Dad already seated at the breakfast table, fingers nervously tracing the rim of his coffee mug.

He looked up when he heard me. “Betts…”

Something in his tone made me pause. Serious. Hesitant.

“I… I kind of invited Claire for dinner tonight.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Claire?”

He nodded, eyes flicking to the floor. “Yeah. Just… dinner. Nothing fancy. I thought maybe, if you’re okay with it…”

Then more softly, almost guiltily: “I’ll cancel if you’re not cool with it.”

I stared at him for a moment. My dad. In his usual faded polo, glasses slightly crooked, trying to act casual but failing miserably. And I realized, he was terrified.

“Oh my gosh, Dad,” I said, stepping forward, heart swelling. “I’m so happy for you.”

His eyes lifted, surprised.

“No, really,” I added. “It’s---this is good. You deserve to feel something again.”

A pause.