Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 56 -THE MEMORIES WILL BREAK OUR FALL

"Hey," I said softly, cutting through the noise. "Does anyone... does anyone know where James is?"

The question landed like a skipped record. Forks paused mid-air. Eyes darted. And then, a quiet look passed between them, familiar, knowing, gentle.

Tim leaned forward, elbows on the table. "He's having dinner with his parents tonight, B..."

I nodded slowly, letting the thought settle in my chest like a pebble sinking into still water.

Inez reached over and squeezed my wrist. "You'll get your chance to talk to him... I'll make sure of that."

Matt stabbed a green bean with violent precision. "I'll punch him again if he won't."

Another round of laughter. It fizzed up like champagne bubbles, soft and reckless. The night faded like a Polaroid: dim lights, empty plates, warm hands brushing, inside jokes looping endlessly. And through it all, under the flicker of candlelight and the buzz of soda refills and steak debates...

I let myself breathe. I let myself belong.

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When I went home, the warm aroma of kare-kare wrapped around me the moment I stepped through the door, a rich, nutty scent with just a hint of garlic and toasted shrimp paste, like a gentle invitation to come back home. My bare feet pressed softly against the cool, smooth tile as I slipped off my shoes, the quiet settling around me like a comforting blanket. From the kitchen, I heard the soft clatter of dishes and Claire's laughter, light and easy, weaving through the air with Dad's deeper chuckle beneath it. I paused at the doorway and took it all in, the sight of Claire with her hair tied up loosely, a streak of flour dusting her cheek, hands skillfully stirring something in a pot, and Dad, standing steady with rolled-up sleeves, drying a plate with slow, practiced motions.

"Hey, graduate," Dad's voice came steady and warm as he caught my eyes from across the room. His smile had that familiar softness, like a quiet beacon. "How's it feel to finally be done?"

I smiled, but there was a catch in my chest, a strange mixture of relief and the heaviness of everything that had happened. "It feels... surreal. Like I'm standing on the edge of something big but can't quite see what's next."

He nodded, folding the towel neatly. "That's how it should feel. The next chapter is yours to write."

Claire came over with a bowl of kare-kare, setting it on the table with a gentle clink. "You look tired, Betty. You've had a long day. Want me to make you some tea?"

I shrugged out of my cardigan and let it fall to the floor, suddenly aware of the coolness of my bare arms against the humid room. My wrist caught my attention, no weight, no familiar gold shimmer.

The butterfly bracelets was gone.

Just the pale, thin lines on my skin, scars from all the nights I tried to hold myself together, reminders of pain and survival.

Claire glanced down at my wrist, her expression softening. "You still think about it a lot, don't you?"

I traced the scars lightly with my fingers, the skin smooth but tender beneath my touch. "Yeah. It's like... those marks are all that's left of her now. The bracelet got lost that night in the storm... the night I almost didn't come back."

Dad's eyes darkened for a moment, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "That was a rough night. But you're here. You're strong."

I swallowed, my throat tight. "I know. But sometimes it feels like strength is just holding on to broken pieces and hoping they'll fit together."

Claire came closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You're more than those pieces, Betty. You're whole, even if it doesn't always feel that way."

The kare-kare's warmth beckoned from the table, but my mind was swirling with memories and the future all at once.

"So, what's the plan?" Dad asked, breaking the silence. "Have you thought about college?"

I looked at him, surprised by the question. It was the kind of thing I'd been avoiding, fearing the uncertainty of it all. But now, sitting here, surrounded by this steady presence, I felt a flicker of hope.

"I'm thinking of applying to the university nearby," I said slowly. "I want to study architecture, build homes."

Claire smiled, pouring tea into a cup and handing it to me. "That sounds perfect."

Dad nodded, his gaze steady. "Whatever you decide, we'll support you. You're not alone in this."

The tea was warm in my hands, soothing the nervous flutter in my stomach. I took a slow sip, tasting the faint bitterness softened by honey, and felt the weight inside me lighten just a bit.

I looked around at them, Dad's quiet strength, Claire's gentle encouragement, and realized this new life wasn't about having everything figured out. It was about knowing I had people to hold onto when the path got hard.

"Thanks," I said softly. "I'm scared, but ready."

Dad smiled wider, the lines around his eyes deepening. "That's all anyone can ask."

Outside, the night deepened, the soft hum of the world beyond the windows a reminder that life was moving forward, and so was I, scarred, hopeful, and ready to write the next chapter.