Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 55 - SO, I KEPT RUNNING...

Why can’t I just be happy?

It’s a simple question. And yet, it keeps circling in my head like a vulture. Why can’t I just let myself enjoy a moment without tearing it apart? Why can’t I accept love without expecting it to turn into poison? Why can’t I stay, just stay, in something good without feeling like I’m betraying some part of myself? I rocked slightly, the movement almost childlike, subconscious. Maybe this is what becoming your mother feels like when the grief caves in on itself and folds into doubt and guilt and silence. Maybe this is how you start disappearing. I hated how I blamed myself for everything. I hated that no one else seemed to.

Why is it so hard to forgive? Is it because forgiveness means surrender? That I have to let go of the story I told myself to survive? The one where I was right to be angry, where pain justified distance? Or is it because forgiveness demands I love something that hurt me... and trust that it won’t hurt me again? Do you forget and move forward, even if the weight follows you like a ghost you can't shake off? Or do you embrace the hurt like a second skin, choose it willingly, and call it love anyway?

A small crunch of gravel snapped me out of my spiral. I didn’t look up. I didn’t have to. “Gosh, you’re a mess,” Inez said, and even though her tone was dry as ever, her presence felt like the first real thing I’d touched in hours.

I sniffed and turned my head just enough to see her plop down beside me, her arms folded, legs outstretched. “Inez... I... I don’t know what to do...” My voice cracked mid-sentence, shame washing over me.

She shrugged like it wasn’t news. “None of us do. Ever. There’s no manual. You either deal with it, run from it, or take a leap. But no matter what, sooner or later, life’s gonna make you face it all anyway.”

I looked away. The sky above us was the color of bruises, deep purple melting into slate gray. “I’m tired of running,” I whispered. “But I don’t know how to stop.”

“You stop when you decide to,” she said simply. “Not when everything feels perfect. Not when all the questions are answered. Just... when you choose to stop being afraid.”

I closed my eyes. The wind pressed against me again. “I... I still love him,” I confessed, like it was a sin. Like it was a secret I wasn’t sure I had permission to say aloud.

Inez tilted her head toward me, quiet for a moment. “Then you’ve got your answer.”

I blinked. “What?”

She leaned back on her elbows. “You asked what to do. You love him. That’s your answer. The real question is... are you going to choose it? Or are you gonna let it rot on the shelf and spend the rest of your life wondering what would’ve happened if you’d just reached out?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. My throat burned with more than just tears now.

“I-Is he angry at me?” I managed.

She laughed once. Not mean, but honest. “You’re seriously asking that?”

I nodded, biting my bottom lip.

Inez turned to face me fully now. “James was reckless. A little arrogant. He used to break hearts like it was some kind of game. But you...” she pointed at me, “...you were different. He changed. Not just for you, but because of you. Because you made him believe he could.”

I said nothing. The wind lifted strands of my hair across my face.

“He’s not angry,” she continued, softer this time. “Maybe sad. Maybe hurt that you left. But angry? No. You think someone who spent all that time pulling himself out of his own mess just to be worthy of you is going to throw it all away because you ran?”

I swallowed hard, eyes stinging. The wind carried the scent of rain and rust. A storm was coming.

“You were mad that he didn’t listen to you,” she said, not accusing, just stating it. “But B... you’re doing the same thing now. You won’t even listen to yourself.”

My breath caught. Something about that, something about that hit deeper than the rest. I felt it land in me like a stone tossed into still water, rippling out into every part of me I’d been trying to ignore. She didn’t say anything more for a while. She just let me sit there, the silence stretching between us like a blanket I didn’t know I needed.

Finally, I let out a shaky laugh. “God, I hate your tongue most of the time.”

She grinned, pulling me into her arms. “Exactly why I’m your best friend.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself lean in. Not to run, not to escape, but to rest.

To stop, just for a while.
And maybe, just maybe... to begin again.

When I came home, the house was dim, the way it always got after dinner, when the dishes had been washed, the windows closed, and silence began to hum through the corners. The lights were warm and low, casting soft shadows across the floor. I found Dad sitting on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he read something that looked too boring to hold his full attention.

“Dad?” I hovered by the doorway. My voice came out smaller than I meant it to.

He looked up right away, like he’d been waiting. “Yeah, sure. What’s the matter, kiddo?”

I walked over slowly, the words catching somewhere in my chest before they made it out. I sat beside him, not too close. My fingers were twisted together in my lap.

“It’s… it’s James,” I said, trying not to sound as broken as I felt.

He let out a sigh, not annoyed, not tired. Just a father’s sigh, the kind filled with more worry than answers.

“Should I give him another chance?” I asked.

He was quiet for a second. Then he said the thing I didn’t expect.

“I don’t know.”

I blinked. “You don’t know?”

He gave me that look he always gives when he’s trying to be honest without hurting me. “Yes… I don’t know. I can’t tell you what to do, kid.”

His eyes dropped to the space between us, then slowly back up to mine. “The answers are all within you. I won’t tell you to see the light in him… or even the light in yourself. That’s hard. And truth be told, I’m still trying to figure out how to do that, too.”

I stared at him, the quiet ticking of the clock behind us suddenly louder than it had been a moment ago.

“Believing in someone, really believing in them, it’s not easy,” he said. “Even believing in yourself is hard. But kid,” he pointed to his chest, right over his heart... “this is such a small organ in our body. And it would be a real tragedy if you filled it with nothing but fear and anger and sadness.”

His hand lingered there, over his heart, like he could still feel something he lost. Then he chuckled, shaking his head. “But what do I know? I can’t even coordinate my own clothes most days.”

I smiled through the sting behind my eyes.

“You decide, B. You get to choose who you become. Whether it’s with him or not, whether you stay or go… I’m here for you. No matter what.”

The tears came easier this time, but they didn’t crush me. They just… softened me. I leaned over and hugged him. Tighter than I meant to. Like I was trying to hold onto this version of him, tired, tender, quietly wise.

“Thanks, Dad,” I whispered into his shirt.

He kissed the top of my head, like he used to when I was little.

“No problem, kid. Anytime.”

And somehow, in the safety of his arms and the silence that followed, I didn’t feel quite as lost.