Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 56 -THE MEMORIES WILL BREAK OUR FALL

I stood in front of the mirror, watching the girl who stared back at me like she'd been waiting for this moment longer than I had. The maroon robe brushed just past my knees, the cap tilted on my head like it didn't quite know how to sit right. The tassel hung still, like it, too, was holding its breath. My hair, a fading shade of burgundy, spilled over my shoulders in soft waves. It had become more than just a color. It was defiance. It was emotion. It was everything I couldn't say but somehow still wore with pride.

"You look beautiful..."

I turned. My dad stood by the doorframe, eyes soft, proud, the kind of proud that made something swell and ache inside my chest.

"You sure you're gonna keep that burgundy hair?" he added with a teasing smirk.

I laughed. "Inez says it's my personality now."

What I didn't tell him was that I liked how the color screamed what I felt, without me having to explain. It wasn't just hair anymore. It was survival. It was identity. It was... me, even when I didn't know who I was.

"Well then," he said, clapping his hands together, "we'd better get going. It's your big day, Betts. You're graduating."

Graduating.

The word tasted strange in my mouth. Like something too big to swallow. Like a goodbye I wasn't ready to say.

---

Outside, Claire waited in the car, the engine humming gently beneath her. When I opened the door, she stepped out without hesitation and pulled me into a hug.

"Congratulations," she whispered, and I believed her. She handed me a red box. with white lace ribboned on it.

"Oh my gosh... you didn't have to tita..." I told her and opened it.

Inside is a golden brooch studded with little moisannites. It is shaped like a phoenix, wings open like welcoming its rebirth.

"I love it... thank you so much Tita Claire...."

There was a time when I thought I'd never hug someone like Claire and mean it. But healing softens corners. And today... I didn't flinch. I leaned in.

In the backseat, I settled in and let the rhythm of the road carry me. The trees and the sidewalks fading like a distant memory I am ready to let go or to fully accept. We passed the old gas station, the tiny bakery with the flaking blue paint, the tree-lined bend where James once taught me how to bike downhill without holding the handlebars. I didn't flinch at the memory. I didn't drown in it. I just... let it pass. When we first moved here, I didn't have it all figured out. In fact, I didn't have anything figured out. I was all broken edges and sharp silences, trying to hold myself together with invisible strings. I hated this town, its unfamiliar streets, its smells, its people who smiled too much and asked too many questions. Nothing felt real. Nothing felt safe. But now... the streets looked smaller somehow. The light felt warmer. The air carried stories I was a part of. Now, this town feels like home.

It's strange how time doesn't heal you so much as it layers you. You don't lose the sadness, you just build something around it. A soft exoskeleton of new beginnings, enough laughter to stitch the cracks, and a kind of love that doesn't erase the pain but makes room for it. I glanced at my dad. He was holding Claire's hand. Their fingers intertwined like they'd been doing that forever. She leaned over and whispered something that made him laugh, really laugh, not the polite kind he used to muster when he was still trying to protect me from his loneliness.

And I smiled.

Because this, this odd little family, this quiet car ride, this life that I once hated, is enough. It doesn't fix everything. It doesn't give me back what I lost. But it gives me something else: a sense that maybe, just maybe, I can keep going. That even if the past will always live inside me, so will this moment.