Chapter 3 – Threads of Fate

Naosa pedaled through the city’s wealthiest neighborhood, a tree-lined avenue of stately mansions tucked behind wrought-iron gates.
One of these homes was hers.
She passed through an ornate gate that swung open automatically and rolled up the long, curving driveway.

“I’m home!” she called, stepping into the marble foyer.

“Hey, you’re home!” a boy’s voice answered cheerfully from somewhere inside.

Kazuha—her nephew, though she thought of him more as a little brother—greeted her with a smile that lit his whole face. His dark hair fell across dark, perceptive eyes.

After his parents died in a car crash when he was three, Naosa’s father had brought him from Japan to live with them. He had no memory of his biological parents. Now thirteen, he was studying piano at a prestigious music school, his talent already drawing attention. Naosa had essentially raised him.

“Starving? I’ll cook something,” she said, already heading for the kitchen.
“Hmm… I don’t know,” he replied, trailing after her.
“I knew it!” she teased, already washing her hands. “Too hungry to decide, right?”

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Soon the front door opened again with the sound of laughter.
“We’re back! Ooh, something smells good.”
Two cheerful voices drifted in from the entryway.

“Hey, Kaz, how was your day?” one of them called.
“Good,” he smiled, setting the table without being asked.

Lu—Naosa’s cousin—and her girlfriend, Kacy, lived in the basement apartment. Kacy was a sought-after makeup artist. Lu, originally from Japan like Naosa’s family, had become a sharp, dependable lawyer, respected throughout the city’s legal circles.

“All right, dinner’s ready! Wash up!” Naosa announced, carrying steaming dishes to the table.

The dining room filled with laughter, clinking plates, and the warmth of conversation—the sound of family, chosen rather than given.

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Two months passed quickly.

Zoe and Owen had settled into the rhythm of Alex’s chaotic lab. Miguel and Jill were kind mentors, patiently explaining systems and procedures. Sally remained distant, but no one minded—they’d discovered her brilliance made up for her coldness.

Word about Naosa spread through the other labs; everyone was drawn to her quiet, infectious enthusiasm. Several guys had asked her out, but she’d politely turned them all down.

One day in the break room, Miguel leaned in and asked Zoe with casual curiosity,
“Is she really that special? Everyone talks about her.”

Zoe smiled knowingly. “I get it. She’s beautiful, obviously, but it’s more than that. She’s smart, thoughtful. She’s always encouraging others, seeing the best in them.”

Alex, sitting nearby with his coffee and pretending not to listen, suddenly looked up.
“That girl from the workshop? The one who confronted someone?” he said. “She was being sarcastic.”

“No, she wasn’t!” Zoe blurted out, louder than intended. Embarrassed by her own vehemence, she looked away.

Owen quickly added, “She didn’t mean it like that. She’s just… direct.”

Miguel and Alex exchanged a meaningful glance.
“…Okay,” Alex said quietly, returning to his coffee.

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That night, Alex stopped by his usual bar.

It was quiet, even for a weeknight. He sat alone with a drink, watching the amber liquid catch the light.

A voice broke his solitude. “Hi, Alex. Alone tonight?”

Amanda—a lab scientist who had long tried to get close to him—approached with a teasing smile.

She pointed to a man sitting at a corner table. “That guy? He’s crazy accurate with his readings. Come on.”

Alex scoffed. “I don’t believe in that fortune-telling nonsense.”

“You’re not busy. Come with me.” She snatched his drink before he could protest.

“Hey—” he sighed, following reluctantly.

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The fortune-teller greeted Amanda with practiced calm. “What would you like to know tonight?”

“My love life,” she grinned, settling into a chair.

He nodded and shuffled the cards methodically, then turned to Alex. “And you?”

“I’m fine. I don’t believe in this,” Alex stated flatly.

“I only tell you what the cards say,” the man replied without offense.

He laid Amanda’s cards out first, studying them with narrowed eyes.
“No love this year. Focus on growth. Learn from your patterns. Try again later, when you’ve changed.”

Amanda’s bright smile faded.

The man reshuffled his deck slowly.
“Now yours,” he said to Alex.

“No, stop,” Alex said firmly.

“You don’t even believe in it,” Amanda teased, recovering quickly. “So what’s the harm?”

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The man flipped the cards methodically, his expression growing troubled as he revealed each one.
“…You’ll suffer,” he said at last, his voice low. “You’ll fall deeply in love. It won’t be returned. You’ll crash. It’ll hurt more than anything you’ve known.”

Alex didn’t speak. For a fleeting moment, something vulnerable crossed his face—then vanished behind his usual mask.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, standing. “I don’t care.”

Alex walked back to the bar. Amanda quickly paid the fortune-teller and followed.

“You believe that?” she asked skeptically as she slid onto the stool beside him.

“No,” Alex replied flatly, taking a sip of his drink.

The fortune-teller packed up his cards and left without another word.

As Amanda sat beside Alex at the bar, she whispered, “Hey, Alex… I don’t believe it either.”

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Outside, Alex walked alone beneath the quiet night sky.

What am I even thinking? he asked himself.

But the words lingered like smoke he couldn’t quite brush away.

Fall in love. Lose her. Never get her.

Then, unbidden, the dream returned to him—a woman’s voice, familiar yet unknown:

Alex… my Alex. Thank you for finding me.

He gave a low, bitter laugh at his own foolishness.
“Must be the booze,” he muttered, quickening his pace as if trying to outrun his thoughts.

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