Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 54 - THE TRUTH WAS THE ONLY THING BURNING

“So, guys,” Tim declared, clapping his hands together like he was about to announce the winner of a game show, “are we all coming to the beach outing after graduation?”

“Of course!!! Right, babe?” Corey grinned, elbowing Drake.

“Yes, babe. We would go,” Drake deadpanned, without missing a beat, then took a big bite of burger.

I laughed into my juice box. The familiarity of it all, their easy rhythm, their strange couple language, felt like wrapping myself in a blanket I’d forgotten I owned.

“How about you, B?” Inez asked, eyes narrowing with curiosity.

I clicked my tongue and leaned back in my seat. “I... I don’t know... you know my conflict with the sea, right? I almost drowned, twice.” I smirked.

“Come on,” Inez whined, dragging out the words. “You should totally go. It’s no fun without you and the second drowning was an accident, not that it's a good thing though but still...”

The table fell silent, expectant eyes turned toward me. I looked down at my plate. The thought of waves used to bring panic, salt in my lungs, the echo of loss, but now, it didn’t feel so sharp. Just distant. Like a scar slowly fading under sun and time.

“Yeah... okay. Sure. Whatever,” I shrugged, biting into a fry.

Inez gasped, hand flying to her chest as if I’d just insulted her ancestors. “Whatever?! Excuse you, that was supposed to be your big, dramatic ‘YES’ moment!”

We all laughed. Loud. Unfiltered. And for a moment, just one small shimmering second, it felt like everything might actually be okay. When lunch ended, I lagged behind a little. The hallway had emptied out, the bell’s echo still dissolving into silence. My fingers traced along the cool tiles of the wall, a faint humming in my ears from the cafeteria noise that hadn’t quite left me. It was funny how sound clung to you, long after the voices were gone. I walked slowly, letting my steps fall into rhythm with the ticking of the clock above Room 109. My classroom. My sanctuary. My battlefield.

The red streaks in my hair brushed against my cheeks with every turn of my head, sharp and soft, like rebellion disguised as silk. I used to think color was something I wore to be seen. But maybe now, it was something I wore to remind myself I was still alive. The world had texture again. Heat from the pavement. Chill from the air conditioner vents. The crinkle of wrappers in my pocket. A crumpled note I’d found days ago, one I hadn’t dared to open yet. I passed the courtyard and saw James again.

He wasn’t looking this time. Just tying his shoelace near the steps, hair tousled by the wind. His shoulders were steadier now, like he no longer carried the same weight. Or maybe... he just learned how to carry it better. I turned away before he looked up. Because the truth was... I didn’t need a moment with him to make this real. It was already real, in the way I could smile now without flinching, in the way I didn’t hold my breath walking into rooms, in the way I said “yes” to the sea, even if my heart still feared drowning. Healing didn’t arrive like thunder. It came slowly. Like the ocean receding from your skin after a storm. Salt left behind, yes, but also, warmth. Sunlight. Air. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I had to outrun my shadows.

I could just... be.

That afternoon, after class I turned the corner and almost bumped into him.

James. He was coming from the opposite direction, a half-folded jersey slung over his arm, smelling faintly of sweat and sunblock. For a second, neither of us said anything. We just stood there. The hallway around us was empty, the kind of quiet that felt padded, like the world was holding its breath. His hair was messy again. There was paint under his nails. He’d been helping with props, I remembered.