RED STRING OF FATE

Chapter 1: Threads of Longing

Enzo stared at his screen, the lines of code blurring as his thoughts drifted elsewhere. It was 2025, and while he was thriving in his tech career, he couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness.

Here he was, living in a high-tech apartment, surrounded by the latest gadgets, yet something felt… off.

He leaned back, glancing at the flickering city lights outside his window. The digital clock on his desk ticked forward, glowing in the dim light, but time felt meaningless.

“Masyado na bang mabilis ang takbo ng mundo?”

he muttered, fingers tapping against his keyboard absently. He loved technology—the efficiency, the control it gave him.

But lately, he’d been wondering if all this speed and convenience was pulling him away from something more genuine, something he couldn’t quite name.

He sighed, trying to shake off the nagging feeling.

A video call from his best friend, Kyle, pulled him out of his thoughts. Enzo answered, and Kyle’s grinning face appeared on his screen.

“Hoy, pre! Ang lalim na naman ng iniisip mo! Ano na naman ang pinoproblema?”

Enzo chuckled, feeling a small sense of relief at Kyle’s familiar face.

“Wala, Kyle. Sabi ko lang, minsan parang ang bilis na ng lahat. Parang… may hinahanap ako na hindi ko mahanap.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical.

“Pare, ang dami mo nang tech diyan, pati nga oras mo kontrolado mo na. Ano pa bang kulang sa’yo?”

Enzo admitted, a hint of frustration in his voice.

“Ewan ko eh, parang may mali. Hindi ko maipaliwanag?”
“Parang… may kulang lang talaga.”

Kyle sighed, giving Enzo a sympathetic look.

“Aba, kung drama ang hanap mo, lumabas ka na lang ng bahay! Baka naman kailangan mo lang magmuni-muni.”

Enzo laughed, but Kyle’s words struck a chord. Maybe he did need something different, something unexpected. He promised Kyle they’d catch up over drinks soon, then hung up the call.

Alone again, he returned to the window, staring out over the cityscape. The future was supposed to feel limitless, yet here he was, feeling strangely confined, as though he were missing some key piece of himself.

Closing his eyes, Enzo let his imagination wander.

What if he could go back to a simpler time, a time before everything was digital, where connections felt real?

He could almost picture it, the quiet streets, the absence of constant notifications. It was ridiculous, he knew; the past was the past. But still, the idea of it clung to him.

He took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill his lungs. Maybe what he really needed was to let go for once, to follow a path he hadn’t planned.

Little did he know, his wish was about to be granted in ways he couldn’t have imagined, as destiny was already tugging on the invisible red thread that connected him to a stranger from another time, waiting for him in 2021.

Enzo blinked, trying to shake off the absurdity of his own thoughts. The idea of something—or someone—waiting for him in another time seemed laughable, a scene straight out of one of the fantasy novels he devoured in high school.

Yet, as he stared at the city below, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he was on the edge of something extraordinary, even if it was just his own imagination playing tricks on him. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy.

He turned back to his screen, where lines of code awaited, but his fingers hovered over the keyboard, unmoving. His life had become a constant loop of coding and creating, yet somehow, he felt as though he was building walls rather than bridges.

He glanced at his reflection in the darkened screen, catching a glimpse of a man who had everything he’d dreamed of on paper but felt as though he were standing alone in the shadows.

Without thinking, Enzo opened a new browser tab and searched for “meaning in a digital world.”
Article after article flashed on his screen, filled with philosophical musings on technology and isolation.

He clicked on one that caught his eye, “The Lost Art of True Connection,” and began reading. The author wrote about the magic of serendipity, the power of chance encounters, and the beauty of slowing down.

Enzo’s chest tightened as he read, every word resonating in a way he hadn’t expected.

Maybe, he mused, there was more to life than optimizing every moment for efficiency. But where would he even begin to make a change?

Shutting down his devices and disconnecting from the digital world seemed like an impossible task. His entire identity was wrapped up in his job, his gadgets, and his meticulously controlled routines.

And yet, as he scrolled down the article, something stirred inside him—a craving he’d long buried under layers of habit and comfort.

He remembered the summers he’d spent in his grandmother’s small hometown, where life was slower, quieter, and somehow richer.

The air had smelled of fresh rain and wildflowers, and the only notifications came from birds singing in the early morning.

He hadn’t thought about those memories in years, but tonight, they rose to the surface as vividly as if he were there.

Enzo leaned back, closing his eyes once more, letting himself drift back to that time.

The colors, the sounds, the feeling of being free from the invisible chains of expectation and achievement.

He wondered what his grandmother would say to him now, seeing him struggle with an emptiness that all his success couldn’t fill.

“Hanapin mo ang mga bagay na nagbibigay-buhay sa’yo” “Yung mga bagay na nagpaparamdam sa’yo na mahalaga ka, at yung mga bagay na nagpaparamdam sa’yo na totoo ka.”

she might say.

He took a shaky breath, opening his eyes as a new determination sparked within him. He didn’t know how or where to begin, but he resolved to take a step.

Maybe he’d start small—turning off his phone during meals, taking walks without earbuds, letting his mind wander without checking his notifications.

Perhaps, in the spaces between the noise, he’d find some sense of what he was looking for.

As he sat there, an odd sensation washed over him. It was as though he was standing at the precipice of something he couldn’t quite define. Just then, his screen blinked to life with a message notification.

He glanced at the sender, but it wasn’t anyone he knew—just a username, “OldSoul21.” Enzo frowned. He didn’t recall ever adding anyone by that name. Curiosity piqued, he opened the message.

“Alam mo ba kung ano ang pakiramdam na mamuhay sa isang mundo na walang masyadong ingay?”

the message read.

Enzo’s pulse quickened. The words echoed his own thoughts so precisely that he couldn’t shake the feeling of déjà vu. He quickly typed back,

“Araw-araw, parang ganon. Teka, sino ka?”

There was a pause, and then a reply:

“Just someone who understands. Sometimes, we’re pulled together by threads we can’t see, looking for the same answers. Kung handa ka na sabihin mo lang.”