Invisible Strings II

Chapter 9: Almost

Isadora blinked.

"I have no life. Not a real one. I've never felt safer since my accident," Hannah went on, voice steady but raw. "Not at school. Not anywhere. Here." She gestured vaguely between them. "With you."

Isadora looked away, like the words were too bright to hold.

Hannah reached out, not touching, just close. "If you really want me to leave that badly... I will. I mean that." Her throat tightened. "But I don't want to be alone for Christmas."

Isadora's breath caught.

"And I don't think," Hannah added softly, "that you do either."

The room felt impossibly quiet again. The heater clicked somewhere in the walls. Outside, the wind pressed against the windows like it was listening.

Isadora closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, they were unreadably dark. "You don't understand what you're asking," she said, not unkindly. "Staying... changes things."

Hannah nodded. "I know. I'm not asking you to explain them." She offered a small, careful smile. "I'm just asking to stay."

Isadora sat there, helplessly close, the weight of a thousand unsaid truths pressing against her ribs. Finally, she exhaled, long, resigning, full of feelings she didn't dare name. "...Okay," she said.

Hannah smiled then, small at first, like she wasn't sure she was allowed to. And then a little wider, the kind that felt like a quiet victory she didn't need to celebrate out loud.

Isadora caught it. She shook her head with a soft huff and finally pushed herself up from the floor, rolling her shoulders as she slid the rest of her boots off. "You are unbelievably stubborn," she said, mock-serious, pointing a finger at Hannah. "And wildly inconvenient."

Hannah grinned. "I've been told."

Isadora grabbed Hannah's coat from the chair and hung it up by hers. "Go. Sit. Make yourself comfortable, since apparently this is your house now."

"Yes, ma'am," Hannah said easily, flopping back onto the couch like she'd won the right to exist there.

Isadora bit back her smile as she peeled off her gloves and hat, hanging them up with deliberate care, like this wasn't doing something to her chest.

When she turned back, Hannah had gone quiet. She sat up on the couch, hands folded loosely in her lap, expression softer now... serious in a way Isadora recognized immediately.

"Hey," Hannah said, voice low. "I really mean it. Thank you. For letting me stay."

Isadora leaned against the arm of the chair, studying her for a moment. Snow still dusted the ends of her hair; her cheeks were pink from the cold. "You don't have to thank me," she said gently. "This isn't some favor."

Hannah's head tilted. "It kind of feels like one."

Isadora's smile softened, losing its edge. "Then I guess I'm glad to give it," she said. "You're safe here, Hannah. As long as you want to be."

Hannah nodded, something warm settling in her chest again.

-

Hannah hummed softly to herself as she straightened the living room, stacking books and tidying blankets. The sunlight caught on the snow outside the window, spilling across the floor in long, pale stripes.

When the room felt a little less cluttered, she drifted toward the piano, a small smile tugging at her lips. Her fingers hovered above the keys for a moment, tracing their edges gently, like reacquainting herself with an old friend.