[JOW]
Clay pulled out a notebook from her bag and flipped it open as she approached me. A photograph slipped out, nestled between the pages, and fell gently onto the desk.
A cold shiver traced my spine.
My shirt clung to my back, damp with sweat. My pulse thudded against my ears as I stared at the photograph.
It showed a younger version of Clay—her cheeks still full, smile wide—and beside her, unmistakably, was Rain and… me. My childhood self, frozen in time. Another boy in the photo looked uncannily like Nova. And then there was Amanda Vineyard—no one could mistake that face around campus—and a girl I didn’t recognize, sitting next to her.
“W-When… where was this taken?” I asked, my thoughts spiraling in confusion.
Clay rolled her eyes, her expression souring.
“No idea. Every time I try to remember, my head starts hurting,” she muttered, almost spitting the words. “I asked my brother about it once. He took the photo, but he claims he doesn’t remember. His camera’s probably rusting in a junkyard somewhere… and even if we wanted to ask him now, well—never mind.”
She tapped the photo with a finger, grinning. “Look at your grumpy face glaring at the camera... And there—Nova and that cute girl pinching each other's cheeks. Like kids being kids.”
I peered closer. Amanda and the unfamiliar girl were on either side of an elderly man holding a guitar, all smiles aimed at the lens. I sat leaning on the old man’s knee, while Rain and Nova flanked me on the left.
That man… Who was he?
I searched my memories, but there was only a void where that day should’ve been.
“How old do you think we were here?” I asked, hoping she’d recall more than I could.
“Six? I was in first grade then. I remember the dress I’m wearing—it’s what I had on during my sixth birthday,” she said, eyes closed as she nodded, as if the gesture confirmed the memory’s truth.
“Do you know who this girl is?” I pointed to the stranger beside Amanda.
Clay’s mischievous grin bloomed like a storm cloud.
“Oh, I know her name. I can read it straight from the picture.”
My brow twitched. “Then who is she?”
She stuck out her tongue. “Not telling.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why not? Are you insane?”
She huffed. “Don’t call me that. You really need to fix the way you talk to women.”
“Then why won’t you tell me?”
“Because I don’t feel like it,” she said smugly, hand on her hip. “Maybe Nova knows. Ask him.”
No way. That weird guy? He’d just laugh it off or say something cryptic.
Still, the girl wasn’t the only one gnawing at my thoughts. If we were only six when this was taken, we’d barely remember anything. But the man… the man with the guitar—I needed to know who he was. Was he the reason I could see the strings of fate? Or had it been pure coincidence that we were all gathered in that photo?
While I was lost in thought, Clay slipped the notebook back into her bag.
I had nearly forgotten I could see the strings of fate. I shut my left eye and let my right eye reveal what my ordinary vision could not.
There it was—Clay’s thread. Short. Severed.
A clean break, with no strand reaching out to anyone else.
>Why does she even have a string if she’s not fated to meet someone?<
It made no sense. She claimed to know how many times a soul had lived, who had been linked to whom in past lives. She once told me we were soulmates in two of our former lives. So why did she have no thread now?
“C-Clay…” Her name escaped me.
She looked at me curiously. “Oh?”
“Why… is your string cut off? I can see the other end—it’s short, and it doesn’t reach anyone.”
I blinked, my vision already going blurry. I rubbed my eye gently.
Clay touched her cheek and chuckled. “So that’s how your power works. And it messes with your eyes, huh? Hurts, doesn’t it?” I nodded.
“Then answer me.”
“The answer’s simple,” she said lightly. “I’m aromantic and asexual. I’ve never felt anything romantic or sexual toward anyone. It’s like those parts of me just… don’t exist. I function like a robot when it comes to emotions like that.”
I tilted my head. “You seem pretty unfazed about your ability. You never tried... meddling? Like pushing people together if they’re tied by the same string?”
I bit my index finger in thought.
“Why would I? Maybe the string exists to guide people. Like, when someone’s suffering—heartbreak, loneliness, despair—then fate brings the right person to them, no matter the distance. The right person shows up when you need them the most.”
“You’re so dramatic,” she snorted.
“Okay, fine,” I admitted with a sigh. “I experimented a bit. That’s how I figured out when I can activate or deactivate it. Using it too long makes me temporarily blind. Back when I couldn’t control it, my vision was blurry all the time. Now I only use one eye. But sometimes, I still mess up…”
I bit my thumb again, this time harder.
“Stop biting your thumb—that’s gross!” she grimaced, pretending to gag. Then her grin widened again. “You believe in fairy tales, huh?”
>No, that’s just how the world works.<
I leaned my forehead against the wall with a soft >thud.<
“You’ll crack your skull if you keep doing that,” she teased. “Want me to help you out? I’ll make sure it splits clean.”
>That’s terrifying.<
“Are you really a girl or some wild lioness?”
She whistled and turned away, smirking.
“By the way, why doesn’t this club ever *do* anything? You said it’s about ‘imagination,’ but you’re just hanging out here like it’s your personal hideout.”
She groaned. “You already know the answer. No one believes in this supernatural stuff anymore… Yow!”
>Yow?<
“There is someone who does.”
Her eyes widened. She dropped to the floor in front of me and grabbed my shoulders.
“Tell me more about your ability. Are there other colors?”
I brushed her hands off and stared her down. She didn’t flinch, even as my breath fanned across her face.
“I’ve only seen two colors so far. Red and violet. Red means destiny. Violet… means someone chose a person they weren’t fated to be with. Jovenyl wasn’t my fated one—I knew that—but I tried anyway. The moment she said yes, our strings turned violet. Even her string, meant for someone else, turned violet.”
I paused, a pang stabbing through my chest. I clutched it, but tried not to show how much it hurt.
“There’s one more. A few days ago, I met a guy. His string… was black.”
Clay’s expression darkened.
“Black?”
“It might mean danger… or something worse. That’s what brought me to this club.”
She glanced away, her brows furrowed. She was thinking—seriously, for once.
“You said using your power blinds you temporarily. What happened when you saw the black string?”
My eye twitched at the memory. A cold knot formed in my stomach.
“I went blind for an hour… and bled from my eye.”
Clay froze.
“That’s disgusting—and scary. Are you okay?”
I scratched my temple. “Not really. That was the worst. Just pitch black for an hour.”
She went quiet. Then she said, “If you want… maybe we can find a way to get rid of our abilities.”
My heart skipped. A strange lightness stirred in my chest.
“How?”
She smiled, resting a hand on my head.
“We find the old man in the photo. It won’t be easy, but it’s worth trying. Let’s do it whenever we’re free. And while we’re in school, maybe try *not* using your powers on everyone you see.” She tugged at my hair playfully. “Let’s be partners.”
---
Classes ended.
I lucked out on the quiz in Ma’am Treyna’s subject, so no free meal for Rain today.
Some of my girl friends dragged me along after school—we were heading to the public park.
I agreed… only after confirming there’d be food.
But something happened as we walked.
A pull in my gut. An urge I couldn’t resist. I opened my right eye again.
And there it was—my thread. Straight. Taut. Unknotted.
It led toward an oncoming black car.
The thread ran right into it.
I felt it. A strange bloom of emotion. A need to see who was inside.
My head whipped around as the car passed. I almost twisted my neck trying to follow it.
The second time. This was the second time I came close to meeting the one fated to me.
My thoughts drifted to what Nova did back in that apartment in San Juanita… to the words he said, the touch on my chest, his laughter.
I couldn’t even enjoy the burgers we had at the park. My thoughts were too loud.
---
It was already dark when I got home.
No one was there. Not Mom. Not Ish.
And of course, the house wasn’t even locked. Amazing how trusting everyone was around here. If some thief walked in, they could’ve taken everything.
I dropped onto the bamboo couch in the living room, calling out for the cat.
Nothing.
I stood, tossed my bag into my room, and walked to the kitchen.
Lifted the pot lid—just leftover rice. The pan? Just oil.
Living the dream, huh?
A family of lawyers. Influential. Wealthy. Respected.
Except for my branch of the Hayle family.
Dad turned his back on that legacy. He wanted to travel. See the country. So he fell in love with being a delivery truck driver. That’s also how he met Mom.
To be continued.