Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 39

Inez twirled immediately, her arms extended like a Broadway star. “This is it. This is our moment. I want something dramatic. Like… ‘oops, I didn’t mean to slay this hard’ but also ‘I’m everyone’s main character.’”

Corey rolled his eyes. “So, a modest gown then.”

We laughed.

I trailed behind them, fingers brushing along the gowns that hung like slumbering dreams. Velvets the color of bruised skies, tulle as light as forgiveness, beadwork that whispered secrets. Each dress carried a different version of me. A self I might try on, just for one night.

“What about this one?” Corey held up a structured navy blue dress with embroidered stars that scattered down the bodice like constellations.

“Ooh, that screams elegance,” Inez nodded. “But will Betty survive without her signature poetry-in-motion look?”

I chuckled. “I’m not sure I want to go full celestial queen. Might blind James with my radiance.”

Corey smirked. “That’s the point. It’s not a prom unless someone faints.”

We tried dress after dress. Inez ended up in a glittering gold piece with slits high enough to cause scandals in ancient Rome. Corey offered enthusiastic commentary between texting Drake photos of the gowns.

I found myself drawn to a gown tucked at the back... muted rose, nearly dusk-colored, with layers of soft organza that moved like breath. No sequins, no loud sparkle. Just movement. Like a poem written in fabric.

I stepped into the changing room and pulled it on.

When I emerged, there was a stillness. Inez gasped first. Corey placed a hand over his heart, mock-swooning.

“It’s… you,” Inez said softly. “Like someone stitched all your softness and storms into one dress.”

I stood before the mirror, trying to see what they saw. My reflection felt unfamiliar but not wrong like I’d grown into something while I wasn’t looking.

I thought of James. Would he still recognize me?

I imagined him reaching for my hand under the lights. His fingers brushing the fabric like it was sacred. His voice whispering, You’re real. And you’re mine.

“You look like you’re in a movie,” Corey said, stepping beside me. “But like the sad part, before the climax.”

“I’m not sad,” I replied, my voice quieter than I expected. “Just… remembering.”

Inez moved closer. “You okay, B?”

I nodded, but something in me ached. This was what it meant to grow, wasn’t it? To prepare for beauty while carrying grief in the seams. To laugh with your friends, try on magic, and still feel the empty space next to you.

“It’s just… prom,” I said. “But it feels like something more. Like a chapter ending. Like a song reaching its final note.”

Inez smiled. “That’s because it is. And you’re going to look like pretty when it plays.”

We left the shop with our dresses and Corey with his sparkle covered suit, wrapped in bags like we captured the stars. Outside, the sky had turned the color of the gown I chose... tamed, romantic, with the promise of twilight.

And as we walked into the amber evening, I felt both full and hollow, stitched together by friendship and longing. Somewhere on the road ahead, James was laughing with the boys, unaware that a version of me had just been sewn into a dress waiting to meet him again.