Invisible Strings II

Chapter 4: A Flicker

Hannah blinks, hurt flickering for just a second before settling into a soft confusion. "I came because I was looking for you," she says quietly. "I was on my way to you."

Isadora's heart drops, a painful, heavy thud. Does Hannah... remember?

Her hand lifts before she can stop it, fingers brushing down Hannah's arm. Her claws threaten to slip free, the emotion too sharp to contain. "Do you remember?" Isadora breathes, eyes searching hers. "Anything?"

There's a pause... hopeful, fragile, aching.

But Hannah's eyes stay lost. She shakes her head slowly.

And Isadora pulls her hand back as if burned, eyes closing, grief slicing through her chest with cruel familiarity. It feels like a sick joke fate keeps playing. Hannah doesn't deserve the blame, but the pain is still real, still raw.

Hannah swallows. "I came to find you so you could help me remember," she says. "I know I don't... know everything. But I know you weren't just my music teacher."

Isadora's breath stalls.

Hannah continues, voice trembling but sure, "Because every time I think of you, something in me aches. Not a bad ache. Just... like there's a missing piece. And I don't know why."

Isadora looks away, rubbing her temple. She can't tell her. She can't risk the potion's effects unraveling. Can't risk Hannah dying.

"There's not much I can help you with," Isadora says, forcing the words out. "Truly. I was just your teacher. I can get you a hotel room for the night, and then-"

"No." Hannah steps forward, cutting her off. "I don't know what we were to each other. But a part of me remembers you, even if I can't explain how. And I want that part back. Even if you don't think it's important."

She takes a soft breath, barely above a whisper. "Please."

Isadora wants to say no. Her mouth even opens for it, she can feel the shape of the word forming on her tongue. She should say it. She has to. There's nothing she can do to help Hannah remember, not without risking everything. Not without risking Hannah.

But Hannah is standing right in front of her... looking at her like she's the only steady thing in a world that's gone loose at the edges. Needing her. Trusting her without even knowing why.

So the word never leaves Isadora's mouth.

Instead, she nods, soft and slow. A surrender.

Hannah's smile rises, warm and tentative. And god... Isadora hadn't prepared for that. That same smile she fell in love with, the one that always managed to break through her storm-cloud moods. It almost hurts how easily it tugs a small one out of her in return.

Almost like muscle memory.

"Where are you staying?" Isadora asks, trying to sound neutral, not frantic.

"The motel outside of town. It's cheap, so-"

"Hannah." The name slips sharp and instinctive, almost scolding. "You know better than to even step near there."

Hannah's brows pinch, confusion soft but obvious. She doesn't know. She can't know.

Isadora swallows, her throat tightening. Right. Right. That part of Hannah, the one with all the little facts and routines and warnings, they're gone.

She adjusts, her voice gentler. "Never mind. It's just... not the best place."

Hannah gives an okay-ish hum, still not totally understanding. Isadora steps back, breathing out slowly.

"I need to stop at the store," she says. "Get groceries for the week. You can... stay with me until the snow slows down. Just until it's safe for you to head home."

"And until I get my memory back," Hannah adds softly, half hopeful, half teasing, like she's trying to lighten the mood.

Isadora doesn't smile this time. She can't. The ache is too close to the surface.

She just nods once. Enough to acknowledge the request. Enough to agree for now.

Hannah notices, but doesn't push. She only wraps her arms around herself for warmth and nods back. "I'll follow you to the grocery store."

Isadora turns toward the exit, pulling her coat tighter, trying to steady her breathing before they step back into the cold. Hannah's footsteps fall in behind her, a rhythm that feels painfully familiar.

And as they push out into the snow, both settling in their own vehicles, Isadora knows this is a line she shouldn't cross.

But she crosses it anyway.

-

The automatic doors sigh open, letting in a chill of snow and silence. Isadora grabs a cart because she needs something to hold onto. Her hands feel too empty, too restless otherwise. Hannah walks half a step behind her, arms crossed from the cold, eyes flicking around like she's trying to memorize a place she's never been but should know.

It's awkward.

For Hannah, it's like trailing after a stranger she's supposed to recognize. For Isadora, it's like stepping back into a life she clawed her way out of.

The wheels of the cart squeak as they move. Isadora reaches for a few basics... pasta, broth, eggs. Her movements automatic except for the way her awareness keeps tugging behind her. She glances over her shoulder and sees Hannah stopping.

Hannah stands in front of the Honeycrisp apples, one hand hovering over a bag like she's not sure she's allowed to want something.

Isadora's chest tightens.

She doubles back without a word, grabs the exact bag Hannah always loved, and holds it out. Hannah's face warms into a shy, grateful smile.

Isadora gives her a small one back, soft, involuntary, dangerous.

They move again. The tense quiet loosens by a thread.

"What do you want for dinner tonight?" Isadora asks, keeping her voice level, careful.

Hannah shrugs, chewing at her lip. "I don't know... anything."

Isadora's heart stumbles. She forces a playful edge into her tone, but tones it down, safe, restrained. "Come on. You pick."

Hannah stops walking, really thinking, then brightens in this gentle, hopeful way that hits Isadora right in the ribs.

"Can we make pizzas?"

A laugh slips out of Isadora before she can stop it. "Yeah. We can do that."

So they gather everything: dough, sauce, mozzarella, basil. Hannah lingers on toppings, as if she wants them all, but she isn't greedy. Grabbing pepperoni and black olives.

Slowly, the air shifts. They talk in little pieces. Nothing big, nothing dangerous, just enough to make the awkwardness unclench.

By the time they're checking out, Hannah isn't trailing behind anymore. She's beside Isadora. Close enough that Isadora can feel the warmth through their coats.

-

Snow drifts lazily in the air, thickening by the minute. The lot is quiet, muffled under white. Isadora loads the groceries into her trunk with practiced efficiency while Hannah unlocks her own car, breath clouding in front of her.

"Just follow me," Isadora says as she shuts the trunk. "I live a little outside of town. About half an hour."

Hannah nods, brushing snowflakes from her hair.

"Drive slow," Isadora adds, voice gentler than she intends. "I'll be driving slow, too."

Hannah gives her a soft, small smile. Like she appreciates the care. Like she trusts her.

And Isadora feels that dangerous ache again because she knows she shouldn't be the one Hannah trusts.

But tonight... Tonight she is.