Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 44

I laughed again, louder this time, even though a strange tightness still clung to my chest. It was easier this way, pretending that everything was okay, that the silence on my phone wasn’t eating away at me, that Olive’s smirk hadn’t etched itself into the back of my mind.

Matt laughed too, but there was something careful in it. Like he was watching me. Measuring.

Maybe he knew. Or maybe he was trying, in his own way, to give me a moment of peace before everything shattered.

The balloon slipped from my hands and floated upward before bouncing off Matt’s knee. He caught it, and for a second, our eyes met. Something unspoken passed between us, like the air had thickened, like the world knew something we didn’t.

And then I looked away. Back to the balloons. Back to pretending. Because for now, it was easier to smile than to ask the questions clawing their way up my throat.

I didn’t hear the door open over the fluttering of balloons and laughter. But I felt it.

Felt it in the way the air shifted, like something sacred had been torn open. Felt it in the sudden hush that washed through the room, like a current, pulling everyone’s attention toward the entrance.

His fingers wrapped around my upper arm, tight, trembling. I turned, breath hitching.

James. He is here.

And for a heartbeat, joy rose in my chest like sunlight, he came back, he was here, he... But no. His eyes didn’t meet mine with softness. They burned. Flames behind storm clouds. His jaw was locked, chest rising with each furious breath.

"What’s going on between you and him?"

His voice struck like thunder, sharp and raw.

"W-what are you talking about, James?" I asked, barely finding my voice. It came out small, afraid.

"You know exactly what I’m talking about."

Each word was ice and fire.

I shook my head. "W-we’re just making decorations... it’s for the program..."

He pulled out his phone. Swiped. Shoved it toward me.

Photos.

Photos I had never seen, images I couldn’t even begin to understand. Me and Matt, laughing, standing too close, that one shot, arms, waists, backs turned, but it wasn’t what it looked like.

It wasn’t.

"I - I can explain, James," I stammered, panic blooming in my throat. "You misunderstood. All of this... it's out of context..."

"Misunderstood?" His laugh was cruel. Hollow. "Maybe the pictures are out of context. Maybe. But you...here, now...laughing like that, looking at him like that...how can I misunderstand that?"

"N-no... I... I wasn’t..." My words broke in pieces. My fingers trembled.

He looked at me like I was a stranger. Like I was someone else.

And in that moment, I knew...he wasn’t here to listen.

He had already decided.

He had already passed judgment.

"I thought you trusted me," I whispered, not to guilt him, not to change his mind...but because it was the truth. Because it hurt.

"I don’t trust him!" he thundered, pointing at Matt.

I flinched. It was the first time he ever raised his voice at me like that.

Matt stood up so fast his chair clattered. He shoved James back with both hands. "Hey bro! That’s not how you talk to your girlfriend!"

James stumbled back a step, but didn’t falter. He didn’t blink.

"Are you in love with him?" he screamed. His voice cracked.

"What are you even talking about, James?! You know Betty would never..." Matt’s voice faltered. He looked down, ashamed, like even he didn’t believe his own defense anymore.

"James, please..." I stepped forward, reached for him. My voice trembled like my hands. "Please listen to me."

He looked at my fingers, curled around his. And he pulled away.

"Whatever," he said, low and final. "I'm done."

And just like that, he walked away. The door swung shut behind him.

I stood frozen, the room tilting, spinning...my heart collapsing into something small and quiet and broken. The tears came before I could stop them. My hands covered my mouth, but it couldn’t silence the ache that cracked open my chest.

Matt ran off too. I didn’t know where. Didn’t care. The only thing I could hear was the thudding of my heartbeat and the echo of James’s voice. Then arms wrapped around me.

Soft. Gentle.

“B…” Inez’s voice. My name.

I collapsed into her, knees hitting the ground with a dull thud. The balloons we worked so hard to blow scattered around me like forgotten dreams.

“W-what’s happening, Inez?” I whispered, the taste of betrayal thick in my mouth. My bracelet felt tight around my wrist... James’s gift, now a cruel reminder.

I didn’t know who I was anymore. Or if the world we built was already gone.

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------Matt-----
(Epilogue to Chapter 44)

"Olive!!!"

I found her behind the library, crouched by the pile of broken cabinets like some haunting ghost among ruins. My lungs burned from running, my fists clenched from everything inside me wanting to explode.

She looked up. Smiling. Like none of it mattered.

“Yeyyy, you came,” she chirped, voice giddy like we were meeting for coffee.

“You wench!” I stormed toward her, grabbing her by the shoulders and slamming her against the brick wall. “How could you do that? How could you...” My voice cracked from disbelief more than rage. “Do that to them?”

But she didn’t flinch. Not once. Instead, she smirked, the edge of it cruel but hiding something… hollow.

“Because I’m not like you, Matt,” she spat. “I fight for what I deserve. I’m not some coward dog pretending to be a lion while his tail curls between his legs.”

Her voice quivered now, hands balled into fists.

“I was his best friend, you know? His best friend. I was the one who stayed when everyone else left. I held his broken pieces when no one else would, even before Betty. I showed up...even when he didn’t ask. Even when he forgot I existed. I took all his messes and I loved him anyway.”

A tear streaked down her cheek, but she wiped it off like it insulted her.

“And what did I get? Nothing. Not even a glance. Not even a thank you. Just nothing!"

She turned away, then looked back...her voice colder.

“I just wanted him to see me. To need me again.”

There it was...her confession, bled out in the dark. Then she shoved past me.

“Whatever I did,” she muttered, “I did it because I love him. And now?” She paused, smirking without joy. “Now you actually might have a shot with Betty. So… you’re welcome.”

And just like that, she vanished into the shadows, the way she always did...quiet, wounded, defiant.

I stood there, paralyzed. Because she was right. I was a coward. I never said anything. Never fought for Betty. Never tried. And what Olive did...cruel, manipulative, reckless...it was still more courage than I ever had. She burned everything just to be seen.

And I?

I stood in the ashes, pretending I had clean hands.