Invisible Strings II

Chapter 9: Almost

"Oh... okay," Hannah said. "I can help-"

Isadora shook her head. "You sit. I'll be ten minutes. Maybe you can move the couch back?" She said a little playfully, making Hannah smile a little from the comment.

She was gone before Hannah could say anything else, the door shutting softly behind her.

Hannah lingered where she was for a second, then wandered to the window. The kettle from earlier still sat on the stove, forgotten. The fire had dwindled down to a steady, comforting glow. The cabin felt... lived in, in a way it hadn't when she first arrived.

Outside, Isadora moved methodically, shovel slicing through snow, breath fogging the air. Strong. Focused. Determined.

She's clearing a path, Hannah realized.

Not just for the car. For her.

A tight feeling settled in her chest. Isadora was making it easier for Hannah to leave. To go back to campus. Back to a life that still didn't feel like hers.

Hannah pressed her fingers lightly to the cold glass. She should want that. Normal. Forward motion. Everyone told her she needed to keep going, keep rebuilding, even if pieces were missing forever.

But standing there, watching Isadora shovel snow like she was bracing for something she didn't want to say out loud, Hannah felt something else entirely.

At home.

Not the kind she could explain. Not memories. Not proof. Just the quiet certainty of it.

She thought of the way Isadora hummed without realizing. The way she watched her spin in the gazebo like it mattered. The way she had yelled only because she cared too much.

Hannah swallowed. She didn't think Isadora wanted her here.

So she stayed quiet. She wrapped her hands around a warm mug she hadn't realized she'd picked up. She told herself that sometimes loving someone meant giving them what they thought was right... even when it hurt.

Outside, Isadora paused for a moment, leaning on the shovel, glancing back at the window.

Their eyes met.

Isadora's expression softened. Something unreadable passing over her face, and she gave a small nod, like she was reassuring Hannah of something.

Hannah nodded back with a small smile she forced.

Neither of them realized they were both wrong. And neither of them was ready to say the thing that would stop Isadora from finishing the driveway.

~

Isadora glanced up by accident at first.

The shovel bit into packed snow with a dull scrape, her arms already burning from the cold, when movement in the window caught her eye. She straightened slightly, breath fogging thick in front of her, and looked back toward the cabin.

Hannah stood there for a moment, framed by warm light, one hand resting against the glass. Then she pulled away.

Isadora watched as Hannah's silhouette drifted farther into the room, smaller somehow. She could make out the shape of her moving the couch back into place, methodical in that quiet way she'd always had when she was trying not to ask for something.

A familiar ache settled in Isadora's chest.

She drove the shovel down harder than necessary, cutting a clean line through the snow. The storm had dumped more than she'd expected, heavy and wet, the kind that stuck to everything. Clearing the drive felt less like a chore and more like penance.