In a world where every couple has a string tying them together through fate- 𝙖 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡, who doesn't know what golden is, meets 𝙖 𝙗𝙤𝙮 who makes the greyest colours seem golden. But then a string of fate ties them together and it has another sto...
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Love comes to those who are fated.
Fated to be loved.
And Kumi knows she is not. She possibly can't be. She isn't worthy of someone else's love, a soulmate.
Her soul is empty, just like her eyes that refuse to brighten up when the sun shines on her or the flowers sing in the wind. For everything, she likes only the moon. Because she's told it comes when the sky's black and stars twinkle white.
And that's all she can see.
Not the golden of the sunshine, not the pink of the tulip or the red of her own lips.
"Isn't it unfair?" she says. "It is unfair," is all she hears. So much is unfair, she knows, be it the bland world she sees or the tugless little finger that accompanies her during the walks in the late evenings when the world is too heavy on her shoulders and all she can wish is someone to be there for her.
She could blame it on fate to leave her pinky void of a knot of a thread, the one that extends to her destined other half even if they are on the opposite side of the world.
She can blame it on the universe— where every couple has a string that binds them. Blue for eternal friendship, brown for caring love, rose gold for a long-lasting marriage, black for fading love and red... red for endless love— it could not give her a single one of those.
On a day Kumi cries for everything in the world, her mother sitting with a broken marriage and alcohol running through her system— her painful sound of sobbing gets drowned by her mother's endless screaming.
"My string is black, I lied to your colourblind father," her manic laughter still rings hauntingly in her ears. "Soulmates are bullshit."
Perhaps she was right when she left the next morning, saying crying about fate is a waste of time and some people aren't just meant to be loved. Perhaps there is no such thing as true soulmates, and the stories of strings are obsolete.
And she comes to a painful conclusion.
That she doesn't even need a black string to tell her she is unworthy of love.
