Invisible Strings

Chapter 8: Arms to Fall Into

But she didn't need to look to feel the weight of it. The unspoken truth that hung in the air between them, pulsing quietly like a second heartbeat, neither of them dared name.

No one looked twice at Hannah sitting alone. They never did. For years, she had been the quiet shadow at the back of the room, the vanisher who barely took up space. It was easier that way. Invisible people didn't get hurt.

But Isadora noticed.

With a casual ease that felt far too intentional, she pulled a chair from the front of the room and dragged it over to Hannah's desk. The scrape of wood against the floor should've drawn attention, but no one cared. Not to Hannah's relief, and maybe, just a little, to her disappointment.

"There," Isadora said lightly as she sat down beside her, sliding the worksheet closer. "Much better than hovering over your shoulder like some kind of hawk."

The corner of Hannah's mouth tugged, a shy ghost of a smile. And slowly, almost without realizing it, her nervous grip on her pencil eased. The edges of the room blurred into nothing; the laughter, the clamor, the shifting of other students dulled away. It was just them.

Just like it always seemed to be now.

With Isadora beside her, the tension she usually carried in her chest unraveled thread by thread. It wasn't gone, not completely, but it quieted. Safe. That's what it felt like. She was safe.

Isadora leaned over the desk, tapping the rhythm sheet with her pencil. "See? Easy enough. You've got this." She said as they started working on the music sheet that she had handed out.

But as she shifted, a stray paper slid from the stack and fluttered to the floor. With a soft laugh, she bent to retrieve it.

Hannah's eyes flicked down before she could stop herself.

The back of Isadora's blouse lifted ever so slightly with her movement, revealing a pale sliver of skin at her waist. Her hair tumbled forward over her shoulder, the curve of her neckline dipping just enough that Hannah caught the faintest glimpse of lace beneath the fabric.

Heat rushed to her face so fast it nearly made her dizzy. She tore her gaze away, heart hammering, but it was too late; the image was branded in her mind.

It wasn't meant to be like that. She wasn't supposed to notice. But she did. And the worst part was how natural it felt... how undeniable.

Isadora straightened, tucking the paper back onto the desk, utterly unaware of the storm she'd just set off. She smiled as if nothing had changed, but Hannah's world tilted on its axis.

She realized, with a mix of fear and wonder, that she didn't just admire Isadora. She wanted her.

And she had no idea what to do with that truth.

Isadora straightened with the fallen paper in hand, brushing it against the stack before setting it back on the desk. She glanced at Hannah, and her smile softened when she caught the pink blooming across her cheeks.

"You okay?" she asked lightly, the same way she always did when Hannah got flustered.

Hannah gave a quick nod, eyes darting down to her notes. "Y-yeah. Fine."

Isadora didn't press. She never did. Just tapped the edge of the worksheet with her pencil before standing to address the class again, her voice flowing seamlessly back into instruction.

Hannah tried to follow, scribbling dutifully in her notebook, but her thoughts refused to cooperate. Every word, every rhythm pattern blurred around the edges. She wrote them down, almost obsessively neat, anything to keep her hands busy.