Some people say they hear their hearts whisper.
Mine doesn't whisper.
Mine burns, hot and sharp, like a thread pulled too tightly across my wrist, threatening to snap at any moment.
They said I was born different.
Special.
Touched by something old and unseen.
They said I could see the blue threads.
I wish they had been wrong.
Because if I didn't have this cursed sight, maybe I wouldn't be sitting here now, staring at the thin white thread still clinging to a boy who once loved me.
A thread that should have faded long ago but lingers anyway, like an unfinished sentence.
Andros's thread used to be grey—steady, neutral, quietly present.
Now it is barely a shadow: pale, flickering, and painfully lost.
A reminder of what happens when connections decay.
Then there was Anthon—his thread didn't reveal itself at first.
It hovered, shimmering and glowing as though uncertain whether it belonged.
And then it snapped, clean and final, like it had made the choice for both of us.
But today…
Today a new thread appeared.
One I never expected.
One I wasn't prepared for.
And it glows with a blue deeper than anything I've seen - electric, alive, almost impatient - yet I don't know if it's meant to be a blessing…
Or the beginning of my final test.
It happened on a Tuesday.
Not the quiet kind of Tuesday that slips into the week unnoticed, like a gentle prayer settling into the folds of morning.
No.
This Tuesday arrived with thunderstorms and a wind that wrapped around my ankles like a warning, whispering, Pay attention.
I didn't see his thread first.
I heard his voice.
Soft.
Low.
Like he was trying not to disturb something ancient resting deep inside me.
"You dropped this," he said, holding out my journal.
My journal.
The one filled with sketches of blue threads - tangled around wrists I should have released long before they tangled me.
I reached for it.
And that was when I saw it.
A spark.
A pull.
A faint glow unfurling from his wrist toward mine.
Blue.
But not just blue—
A deep, electric shade that moved with purpose, like it recognised me long before I recognised it.
The thread surged, almost eager, and I jerked back, startled.
He frowned slightly. "Are you okay?"
I forced a smile.
"Yes. Sorry. Thought I… saw something."
But the thread didn't vanish.
It dimmed, yes, became subtle, patient, but it never left.
I tried not to think too much about it.
I failed.
Because even then, even in its faint form, I could feel it tightening.
Growing stronger.
As if fate had already chosen its route, quietly setting everything in motion long before I noticed.
And all I could do was stand there, in the middle of everything, wondering whether this thread was here to guide me…
Or test me