Krisan Rahmadiani had grown accustomed to her solitary existence, a life that thrived upon the absence of touch. It was the delicate waltz of her daily routine that kept her reality from spiraling into an abyss of loneliness. Each morning began with a fresh cup of coffee brewed carefully to perfection, a ritual that made her heart momentarily dance in rhythm with the aroma swirling through her tiny kitchen. This particular morning, however, would spin her carefully curated world off-kilter, exposing her to the unexpected specter of fate.
As the sun spilled light onto her patchwork quilt, Krisan went about her usual preparations for the day—a quick shower, jeans that hugged just right, and a loose sweater to ward off the chill. Today, she had a looming deadline for a client's project, and the thought of meeting her obligations provided a strange comfort. But duty was never without disruption; as she entered her preferred café at the corner of her street, a twist of fate awaited her.
"One black coffee, please!" she chimed, her voice a careful mix of warmth and urgency, battling against the background hum of barista banter.
The café was a sanctuary for artists and dreamers, filled with the soft chatter of creatives discussing everything from existential philosophy to mundane laundry. Krisan breathed in the atmosphere, but instead of settling into her usual corner, she noticed the commotion near the register. It was a rush, as new patrons squeezed through tightly-knit lines while others juggled their beverages, half-finished pastries, and hurried conversations. That was when she saw him.
Topan Elvano stood there, a vision wrapped in casual wear, his easy smile commanding attention. He had just tossed a bill onto the counter, the kind of nonchalant gesture that kicked her observant instincts into high gear. Despite the overarching noise, Krisan felt a palpable shift in the ambiance—the way light filtered anew around strangers thrust together by accidental brushes of fate.
But then it happened. As he pivoted, their fingers brushed—slight and unintentional, yet the weight of it crashed upon her like a tidal wave. The air around Krisan thickened, her heart racing before crashing to the pit of her stomach. The curse.
"Shit," she whispered under her breath.
Panic washed over her, her many years of avoiding any form of physical contact suddenly flooded her mind—images of mishaps, of people she cared about facing sudden calamities. She needed to act fast.
"Excuse me!" She darted through the crowd, her heart pounding like a drum, desperation propelling her toward the man who had inadvertently awakened the specter of her curse. "Wait!"
Topan turned, his brow furrowing as he blinked at her, curiosity mingling with confusion. "Uh, can I help you?"
Krisan's voice caught, a tangle of hesitation threatening to strangle her words. "You... touched me. I have to follow you. I mean, you might be in danger!"
He chuckled, a charming sound that seemed ill-suited for the gravity of her proclamation. "Danger? From a little brush? Now that's an interesting perspective."
"It's not a joke!" Krisan snapped, the urgency pouring from her as the surreal nature of her plea hung between them. "Please. Just let me… um, keep an eye on you for the day."
There was a beat where silence reigned, then Topan's smile widened, uncertainty lingering in his eyes. "Alright, mysterious stranger. What's the worst that could happen?"
What had felt like a humorous start to their shared day transformed into an overwhelming sense of responsibility for Krisan. As she followed him out of the café, the weight of her curse pressed heavily against her chest.
Each moment was lived in hyper-awareness; she watched every move he made, each step of the way the world around him unfolded like a waiting canvas. Topan, surprisingly carefree, crossed the street with an air of confidence as he smiled at passersby. Krisan's instincts screamed at her to intervene, but anxiety clenched tightly around her throat.
Hours stretched into a montage of mundane activities—a trip to the local market, a quick detour to visit a neighborhood bookshop, lingering over the pages of a new release. Topan's laughter echoed warmly through the quagmire of Krisan's worry, yet the notion of impending doom loomed like an iron cloud above them.
"Why are you following me, really?" Topan asked, his tone light yet peppered with curiosity.
Krisan hesitated before formulating a response. "I wish I could explain it better. It's just… something kind of terrible happens to anyone who touches me. I've seen it happen multiple times."
"Like a curse?" he replied, a teasing twinkle in his eye. "Sounds like something out of a fairy tale."
"More like a horror story," she said, her voice low, panic pooling in her gut. "You've seen how chaotic a single touch can be."
For a second, he seemed to ponder, lips twitching in thought. "So you're telling me I just touched a cursed object?"
"Yes!" Her voice was too loud, capturing the attention of a nearby toddler who stared at them in awe. Krisan lowered her voice again. "I should have warned you. You'd be a part of this."
Topan chuckled, a soothing sound against her rising apprehension. "What kind of disaster have you seen?"
"Everything." Her words spilled freely now, painting vivid images of tragedy; each accidental touch had unfolded into a new story of loss. "You won't believe how many times I saw friends and family meet misfortune just… by touching me."
As the sun dipped lower, shadows stretching over the cobblestone streets, Krisan resolved to keep him safe, hoping that whatever protective instinct thrummed through her veins could veil him in a cocoon of luck. The day continued as they traversed the city, Krisan keenly aware of his every interaction. She navigated him away from skateboarders tackling stunts, urged him past cyclists who seemed unsteady, and gave him tips on avoiding puddles that glistened deceptively in the light.
In the midst of her frantic observations, a revelation gnawed at the edges of her mind—nothing had yet happened to Topan.
The hours stretched and blurred into a dance of adrenaline, laughter, and startling bonds forming amid the uncertainty. She wondered what it would be like to live without the burden of her curse, to experience lightheartedness instead of fear tethering her to the past.
But reality crashed down when they reached an intersection just as twilight began to embrace the city. Topan turned, mischief playing across his features. "Wanna race? To that lamppost over there?"
"You're not serious, right? What if…" Her voice faltered, hearing the panic lacing her words.
"What? Touching you will only make me... well, get a paper cut?" he teased, delight dancing in his eyes.
Krisan chewed her lower lip. A moment's hesitation slipped away, and she found herself smiling with disbelief—oh, what was he doing? Before she could protest, he had bolted, laughter spilling into the air around them, coaxing her to release her guard.
"Topan! Wait!"
Yet something remarkable happened. Each step he took away from her felt lighter. No dread followed, no accidents seemed imminent. They raced through the street, a whirlwind of laughter and footfalls against the hard surface—past the looming question of what would happen when the clock struck twenty-four hours.
As they neared the lamppost, Krisan felt a strange twisting hope unfurl within her. What if this time it were different? What if he broke the cycle she had resigned to for years?
Would the curse have an exception?
Panting, they skidded to a stop. Topan leaned against the pole, laughter still bursting from his lips, and she found herself captivated by his infectious spirit. Suddenly, the curse felt less real, the weight less unbearable.
Maybe this accidental encounter could bring a change, and maybe—just maybe—Topan Elvano would be the first person who could touch her and escape the clutches of her past.
But as she watched him, a shadow crossed her mind. If she could harbor hope, perhaps fate had other plans.
The dusk fell around them, framing their moment in shades of purple and gold, while an unspoken tension stood hovering close, redefining the boundaries of their connection, veiled in uncertainty and danger. Would he emerge from her day without a smudge of bad luck or would this one touch weave new threads into the tapestry of her own story—the origin of her curse unravelling anew?
Krisan looked into Topan's eyes, allowing a flicker of vulnerability to peek through. The universe was silent, but the pulse of fate thrummed loudly. Now, the question remained: what would she dare to make from this moment woven in the shadows?