Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 40

The moment the message sent, my stomach tightened. I knew better than to expect fireworks. But I wasn’t ready for the flatness of what came next.

Matt:
Nope. Revise.

Just that. Two words. No explanation.

I stared at the screen. My heart didn’t break... but it folded. Quietly. Like a paper crane left out in the rain.

I typed a reply.

“Can you clarify what didn’t work? Or do you have ideas you’d want me to incorporate?”

His response came slower this time.

“Too whimsical. Not aligned with school image. Keep it clean. Simple. Professional.”

Professional.

I looked at the words again. My handwriting still fresh on the page beside me... Waltz of Light. Celestial Dreams. They didn’t belong in Matt’s world. I did. But they didn’t.

Inez would tell me to fight for them. For beauty. For softness. For the space where love breathes, even if it’s just on a dance floor.

But I just closed my phone, folded the paper gently, and placed it in my notebook like pressing a flower.

In the distance, the late afternoon sun hit the glass just right, painting the floor with golden ribbons. For a second, it felt like one of the themes... like I was standing inside The First Snowfall, even if no one else could see it.

Later that afternoon, Inez and I sat under the acacia tree near the edge of the school field. The branches cast a web of shadows over our faces, the light flickering like broken promises. My notebook lay open between us, the page of theme ideas catching the wind just slightly, as if trying to float away before it could be dismissed again.

I handed her my phone wordlessly.

She read the messages, lips parting in disbelief. “Nope. Revise?” she echoed, her voice rising. “He couldn’t even pretend to be decent about it?”

I stayed quiet, chewing the inside of my cheek. The silence wasn’t empty, it was heavy, brimming with the weight of disappointment.

“He didn’t even explain what was wrong,” she went on, flipping a page in my notebook. “This one, Starcrossed, this is so you. It’s elegant, it’s soft. It’s magical. And Waltz of Light? Come on, that’s prom material if I’ve ever heard it.”

I shook my head. “He said it didn’t align with the school’s image.”

“School’s image?” Inez scoffed, drawing quotation marks in the air. “What, are we applying to NASA? This is a dance, not a corporate budget presentation.”

We both fell silent again. A warm breeze rustled the leaves above us. I watched them move like nervous hands wringing themselves out.

“He doesn’t even look like himself anymore,” I murmured. “The way he talks, the way he walks away like he’s already written the ending to every conversation.”

“You mean like he’s a one-man committee?” Inez said, voice bitter. “Ugh, it’s like trying to paint a mural with someone who only sees spreadsheets.”

I laughed softly, just a breath. Then frowned. “It makes me feel like everything I bring to the table is… fluffy. Unnecessary.”

“No,” Inez said firmly, “what you bring is feeling. That’s why people remember you. You turn spaces into moments. He turns them into tasks.”

She grabbed the notebook and hugged it to her chest like a manifesto. “We’re submitting the list again. But this time, with a short write-up for each one, why it matters, what it could feel like.”