Invisible String Of Love

Cupid Fucked Up

Ever since her encounter with the mysterious figure in Clay’s therapy office a few days ago, their image clung to her memory. She could still see the graceful curve of their Nubian nose, the gentle pull of their heart-shaped lips, and the magnetic depth of their round, knowing eyes. Their mocha-toned skin, harmonizing effortlessly with the warmth in their hair and gaze, radiated self-assurance—even in the bold choice of their revealing attire.

Despite the walls she'd built since her trauma, something about this enigmatic stranger bypassed her defenses. She felt herself drawn in, captivated.

Perched on the gym bench, mind adrift, she barely registered the world around her—let alone the fact that she had plans. With Tom.

"Kai to Earth! Hello?" Tom’s voice sliced through the haze, snapping her back.

“Oh, right—sorry. What were we saying?”

“It’s all good. I’ll pick you up at seven, okay?” he offered, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. But beneath it, his eyes flickered with something quieter—concern, maybe. Doubt.

“Okay.” Kai stood and headed for the locker room, her back to him, unaware of the faint sting in his chest as he watched her go, wondering if he was misstepping or if he’d already lost her to someone she hadn’t even met properly.

In the shower, the thought returned—persistent, insistent. Would they be at her next session with Clay?

After rinsing off, she toweled down, slipped into her comfort armor: a black band tee, red flannel, boyfriend jeans, and her scuffed red Converse. With her head still swimming, she hopped on her bike, the city breeze brushing her cheeks as “Lovers Rock” by TV Girl played in her ears.

Arriving at the apartment, Kai immediately spotted her roommate, Riya—Riri, for short—strutting across the living room, completely absorbed in practicing her model walk. Dressed in a tight, short dress with a touch of light makeup, Riri was too focused on perfecting her runway strut to notice Kai’s entrance.

Kai stood with her hands on her hips and cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Ms. Bella Hadid, are you done?” she asked, tapping her foot with impatience.

Riri whipped around and gasped theatrically. “Oh, shit! Kai, you’re back! I thought you finally killed yourself!” she joked, gliding over to plant a kiss on Kai’s cheek.

Kai chuckled dryly. “I wish. But alas, still cursed with existence. Can I borrow another dress? Tom asked me out again…” she asked in a sweet tone, her eyes wide like a begging puppy.

“Again?! That man is persistent,” Riri muttered, eyes wide with disbelief. For someone only on date number five, he was acting like they were on lucky thirteen—if Kai ever said yes the first time, that is.

With a sigh of faux exasperation, Riri turned toward her massive pink closet, swinging it open to reveal an entire rainbow of designer dresses, ranging from light femme to dark femme. She plucked one out with ease and handed it to Kai.

“This one. It’s perfect for you. But don’t ruin it, or I swear—”

“I know, I know. You’ve said it a thousand times,” Kai groaned, already heading to the bathroom.

“Just making sure!” Riri called after her. “And let me know if you need your face fixed too!”

Then, without missing a beat, she returned to her catwalk like nothing had interrupted her.

In the bathroom, after slipping into the dress and taking a long moment to admire her reflection, Kai couldn’t shake the discomfort curling in her chest. The fabric was soft, the fit flattering — but it didn’t feel like her. She was used to big hoodies and baggy jeans, not delicate straps and cinched waists. Still, she stepped out, moving toward Riri as if the dress clung to her like a second skin she wasn’t sure belonged.