My Soulmate Died

Red String

PROLOGUE

My family, my mother especially, with what little time she had, always told me, "Kazuha, should the day come where you find yourself questioning a red string attached to your ring finger, I want you to know that it shouldn't be looked down upon. Follow that string and find the someone you've been looking for."

I listened to her. I listened to my family, never questioning a thing they said because I knew they'd only want the best for me. For a long while, I dreamed of the day I'd wake up to a fateful string, the same string that would hopefully bring me to my special someone. Throughout many of my younger years, I believed I'd somehow stumble upon that person by chance, finding common ground in the simplest of things. I hoped to love the same things as they would. My dreams were endless, just as how you'd imagine a child's imagination to be. And while my mind grew wild with countless thoughts, loud or quiet, I found myself struggling to make new friends. I'd sit by myself at my desk and watch as all my other classmates' laughter and small conversations filled the room. They talked about the little red string, a lovely occurrence to them, but to me, I could only see the downside of my situation. As far as I knew, everyone in my family had gotten their thread at an early age. They were talents of all kinds that even the world and time itself seemed to favor them.

Above it all, I stayed hopeful. One afternoon, on a particularly sunny day, I asked my mother, "Why hasn't my string appeared yet? Is there something wrong with me?"

My mother could only look at me with her sad eyes, a fleeting glimmer shining so dimly. Those red pearls she was blessed with since birth were glossed over again. Was it from the tears that coated her eyes? Had I disappointed her by not living up to our family expectations?

She laid the crochet hooks she held onto the table stool she sat next to. Mother had always wanted to try crocheting, but with her busy schedule, she never had the time to come home, not even to see her family. But I knew she cared most deeply for us. She wasn't the kind of woman to act on her feelings or own desires; she wasn't selfish and everything she did, she did with sophistication and reason. Mother spoke of her feelings through words rather than actions. With a slow pace in her steps, she calmly walked towards me, her eyebrows lowering and pulling closer together.

With a hand on my shoulder, she kneeled to meet my face and said to me, "Kazuha, I'm saying this out of my love for you. Please, don't reach for the stars. Your time will come whenever you are ready. Of course, the red string can mean so much to someone, but I wouldn't dare want you to sacrifice your happiness for it."

And there our short conversation had ended. As the words that left my mother's mouth and entered my head shattered my world, so did they shatter my heart. Through my eyes, the wall's color started to fade, the bright big windows now grey and cracked, and the porcelain ware decorated around the room didn't seem so new anymore. They looked as old and worn out as the room started to appear. I left my mother's grey box with a devastating feeling clouding over my mind, my heart, and my body. Why couldn't I just live a normal life like all the other kids? Why did I have to be born into a 'highly-regarded' family?

Mother changed her words because she knew I was a 'late bloomer', that my red string wouldn't appear anytime soon as it had for other children my age.

When I had walked out on her that day, I would always come to find regret in the actions I took and the nonexistent words I conveyed. I never even said goodbye, not one word saved for her before her shortcomings. I walked out of her life just as soon as she walked out of mine. Sunday afternoons never seem to shine as brightly as they did before.

As I grew older, I came to realize that fate loves to take its time, so I gave up. I gave up on waiting for that someone to come along. And though I told myself that, I still had a small number of feelings left within my soon-to-be string.