Invisible Strings

Chapter 6: The Weight of a Whisper

When the bell rang, students spilled into the hall with their usual rush of chatter. Hannah packed her things slowly, deliberately, waiting for the tide of voices to pass before slipping out unnoticed. At least, that was the plan.

"Stay a moment?"

Hannah froze. Isadora's voice was soft but firm, carrying just enough weight to make it clear she wasn't asking. Hannah turned slightly, clutching her bag to her chest like a shield. Her lips tucked and heat rushing up the back of her neck.

Isadora leaned against the piano, arms crossed loosely, her expression unreadable but gentle. She didn't speak at first. Just let the quiet stretch until Hannah's shoulders hunched in anticipation.

Finally, Isadora said, "That was brave, you know."

Hannah's throat tightened. "It was... stupid," she murmured, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Not stupid," Isadora countered, her tone warm but certain. "You set a boundary. And you did it without vanishing. That takes more strength than you give yourself credit for."

Hannah shifted her weight, uncomfortable under the praise. "I don't... like attention."

"I know." Isadora softened, pushing off the piano and stepping closer. She tilted her head, catching Hannah's gaze with careful steadiness. "But you deserved that moment. You deserved to be heard."

Hannah's breath stuttered, her hands tightening on the strap of her bag. She wanted to scoff, to shake her head, to slip away into the safety of disappearing. But instead, her voice came out small, raw, "I don't think I believe that."

Isadora's chest ached at the honesty. She lowered her voice, almost a whisper. "Then maybe I'll believe it enough for the both of us. For now."

Hannah hugged the strap of her bag tighter, as if it were the only anchor holding her together. Isadora's eyes softened, but her movements were steady, assured. She reached out slowly, giving Hannah plenty of time to pull back if she wanted to.

"Here," Isadora murmured. With a careful but certain touch, she slid the strap from Hannah's shoulder. Hannah tensed but didn't stop her, breath caught in her throat. Isadora set the bag down gently beside her desk, not making a show of it, just quietly removing the weight from Hannah's grip.

"There," she said, her tone casual but warm, as if she'd done nothing extraordinary. "Now you don't have an excuse."

Hannah blinked at her, confusion flickering across her face. "...Excuse for what?"

Isadora's lips curved into the faintest smile. "For saying no." She tilted her head toward the tall windows, the spring light spilling in from the quad beyond. "Walk with me. Just around the grounds. Fresh air might do us both good."

Hannah hesitated, her body caught between instinct and something else... "A walk?" She said softly and confused. She wanted to. She could feel her body wanting to lean into the safety of Isadora, but why?

"You don't have to be anything," Isadora interrupted gently. Her voice carried a firmness that was impossible to argue with, but never sharp. "You don't even have to talk. Just walk."

Something in that steadiness made Hannah's chest ache, like leaning into a wind that held her up instead of knocking her down. Slowly, she gave the smallest of nods.

Isadora's lips curved, not smug but quietly pleased, and she reached to open the door. "That's my girl."

The late afternoon air was crisp, carrying with it the faint smell of damp leaves and pine. Nevermore's grounds stretched out in golden shades, the budding trees swaying gently, their branches brushing against each other like whispers. Hannah shoved her hands into the pockets of her sweater, shoulders hunched as she walked a half-step behind.