Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 38

“Hey.”

Matt’s voice cut through the quiet murmur of lockers and footsteps... a little louder than usual, carrying an awkward weight. It wasn’t just what he said, but the hesitation beneath it that caught me off guard.

“You can say no if James isn’t cool with it…” His gaze flickered down, as if he was already preparing for rejection, trying to protect himself before I could respond.
I felt the space between us stretch, fragile and unspoken.

“I’ll ask him later.”

The words tasted like a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep, like a bridge suspended over uncertainty. Still, it was the only way forward I had.

“How have you been?” I ventured, searching for something.... anything to connect us to the present.

“Doing fine. Anyways… I should go.”
He was already stepping away, retreating into a shell of silence that seemed easier than facing the tangled mess between us.

I wanted to reach out... to peel back the layers of avoidance that shielded him... but it was like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands.

Avoidance is its own kind of pain, I thought, bitter and slow-burning. It’s a silent surrender, the quiet closing of doors we once barged through. Maybe moving on doesn’t mean forgetting, or even forgiving, it’s learning how to live alongside the ghosts, how to carry the empty spaces without letting them swallow you whole. Maybe the ache isn’t the enemy; maybe it’s the foundation on which we build the fragile architecture of healing.

---

The lunchroom buzzed with half-remembered jokes and clinking trays, but my mind was elsewhere. I slid into our usual corner with Inez and Corey, their easy laughter a fragile balm against the undercurrent of tension.

“Where are the boys?” I asked, my voice barely louder than the hum around us.
Corey glanced up, thumb scrolling through her phone.

“Oh, they have a team meeting about some retreat.”

“A week before prom?” Inez’s words spilled out, sharp with disbelief.

“I was hoping Tim and I could pick matching outfits,” she added, the excitement in her voice faltering.

“Yeah, that sucks, right?” Corey chimed in, a shared disappointment passing between them.

I could feel it.... the subtle pull, like tides drawing us apart in slow, inevitable waves. Distance carved between us not by choice, but by circumstance and time.

But I wouldn’t let it break me. Not this time. Whatever forces tried to pull us apart, I was ready to fight. Because some things... some people... are worth the scars.

“I’ll buy soda,” I said, standing and pushing away from the table. The corridor stretched ahead, fluorescent lights buzzing softly overhead.

At the vending machine, the cold glass pressed against my fingertips as I scanned the rows of bright cans and bottles. My reflection shimmered back... then shifted.

There she was. Olive. Green dress, her signature bow perfectly perched, a ghost from the edges of memory. Her eyes locked with mine, mischief and something darker swirling in their depths. That faint, knowing smirk, like she was laughing quietly at a joke I didn’t get.

The image flickered and vanished, leaving me blinking at the empty hallway behind me.

---

Grief, I thought, is not just an absence, it’s an imprint, a shadow we carry alongside the light. It shapes the contours of our happiness, molds the way joy tastes on our tongues. Like this bitter coffee I’ve come to drink every morning, sharp, dark, unforgiving. But when paired with the sweet, sticky mango jam on a plain slice of bread, it transforms. The bitterness becomes richer, the sweetness more profound.