𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 | (𝐆)𝐈-𝐃𝐋𝐄

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞

If you asked Soojin how it all started, she’d probably say it was the hands. Not the crystal balls, or tarot spreads, or the incense curling through her shop, but Shuhua’s hands—small, delicate, warm. The kind of hands that made Soojin believe in fate a little more than she already did.

Shuhua came in once a month, always on a Thursday. Always in the afternoon, when the sun filtered just right through the sheer curtains of Soojin’s studio. She’d sit in the same seat, across the small wooden table, her fingers reaching out without hesitation. It wasn’t just for palm readings anymore—at least, not for Soojin.

“What do you see today?” Shuhua would ask, her voice full of playful curiosity. And Soojin, pretending to study the lines, would find herself tracing them with a little more care than necessary.

At first, it was simple. A client. A seeker of meaning. But as weeks turned into months, and months stretched quietly into years, the sessions grew longer. What once ended with “Your future looks bright” became late afternoon chats about dreams and fears, about why Shuhua still hadn’t figured out what she truly wanted from life. About how Soojin learned to read palms from her grandmother. About loneliness, and hope, and the quiet ache of wanting something you’re afraid to name.

Soojin didn’t know when it changed—when her chest began to flutter at the sound of the doorbell. When she started counting days until Shuhua's visits. When her own future readings stopped making sense because all she saw was Shuhua.

She thought she was hiding it well.

But one Thursday, everything shifted.

Shuhua walked in wearing a soft beige sweater, hair tucked behind her ear, smiling as if the world outside didn’t matter. She took her usual seat, leaned forward with that familiar sparkle in her eyes, and held out her hand.

“Tell me something good today,” she whispered.

Soojin reached out. Her fingers hesitated—just for a second—before cradling Shuhua’s hand in hers. It was warm. Familiar. Terrifying.

She read the lines, but her mind wasn’t on the fate etched into the skin. It was on the words building in her chest, on the feelings that had lived too long without being spoken.

Her hands trembled slightly as she let go.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said, her voice quieter than usual, yet resolute. “Something I haven’t been able to say for a long time.”

Shuhua tilted her head, brows knitting with curiosity.

“I know this started with palm readings, and maybe I should’ve kept it professional,” Soojin continued, eyes searching hers. “But somewhere along the way, I stopped waiting for your hand—I started waiting for you. And I can’t keep pretending I’m not in love with you.”

The silence that followed was heavy. But it wasn’t rejection. It was surprise. Then something softer bloomed in Shuhua’s expression.

“I… didn’t expect you to say that,” she said slowly, a gentle laugh escaping her lips. “But I’m glad you did.”

Soojin’s breath caught. “You are?”

“I’ve felt it too,” Shuhua admitted. “I thought maybe it was just me, falling for the person who always sees me, even when I can’t see myself clearly.”

Soojin smiled, a breath of relief escaping her. “So… this isn’t just in my head?”

“No,” Shuhua said, reaching across the table. “It’s in your heart. And mine.”

Fingers laced. That was the beginning of something new.

From that day on, the sessions changed—but not in the way you’d expect. They still met at the little studio. Shuhua still offered her hand, and Soojin still traced her lines with reverence. But now, between whispers of fate and destiny, there were shared glances, soft kisses, and stories told in the safety of each other's arms.

They spent weekends at Soojin’s studio-turned-sanctuary, making tea and rearranging crystals. Shuhua helped water the plants and eventually started learning the basics of palmistry herself. Sometimes, Soojin would read her palm just for fun.

“You’re going to fall deeply in love,” she’d say with a grin.

“I already did,” Shuhua would reply.

Their love grew not in grand gestures, but in small, sacred routines. Holding hands during evening walks. Whispered affirmations before bed. Quiet comfort on difficult days, and joy multiplied on good ones.

They dove deeper into their shared spiritual world—journaling manifestations, pulling daily tarot cards for one another, and meditating side by side. The studio became a shared dream space, a sacred ground not just for seekers, but for them.

Soojin discovered new layers to her gift. Her readings became more precise, infused with the energy of someone who was no longer alone. Shuhua's presence grounded her, and her joy inspired Soojin to trust her instincts more.

And Shuhua? She bloomed.

No longer the curious stranger seeking answers, she became Soojin’s partner in both magic and life. She laughed more, dreamed bigger, and for the first time, began envisioning a future with someone who saw her completely.

One evening, wrapped in a blanket and sitting under the stars, Shuhua murmured, “Do you think the lines on our palms knew we’d end up here?”

Soojin smiled, brushing her thumb over Shuhua’s hand.

“I think the lines led us here,” she replied. “And I think they’ll keep guiding us—together.”

From then on, love was their true reading. Every touch, every word, every glance was another symbol in the map of their lives. And as they walked forward—hand in hand—they embraced the unknown not with fear, but with wonder.

Because sometimes, the future isn’t found in the lines of a palm, but in the person who holds it.