Invisible string is a story about Angelys Diaz, a model disillusioned by her glamorous life, and Franco Colapinto, an F1 driver seeking something real. Their unexpected connection reveals the power of authenticity and the invisible ties that can pul...
"Sometimes, finding yourself means stepping away from everything you've known, even if it means letting go of the things you once thought you couldn't live without."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The plane touched down in Paris with a soft jolt, but Angelys barely noticed. Her mind was still lost somewhere between Athens and Brazil, caught between the peace of her solo journey and the growing realization that something in her life needed to change.
The trip had given her perspective—a clear view of her own heart. In Athens, she had found a quiet rhythm, a space to breathe. But what she discovered was that the freedom she longed for wasn't as simple as running away from the chaos of Paris. It was about returning to her roots, to a place that had always felt like home: Brazil.
The thought of Brazil made her heart ache, not just for the country itself, but for everything it represented—the warmth, the people, the sense of belonging she hadn't truly felt in Paris. The longer she was away, the more she realized how much she missed it—the hum of the city streets, the lush landscapes, the food, the language that flowed so easily from her lips. But more than that, it was the connection to herself she had lost along the way.
As the plane began its descent, her phone buzzed. Franco.
Are you back in Paris yet?
Angelys hesitated. Their fight about the rumors with Damien had left an unresolved knot between them, but it wasn't enough to silence the connection they shared. She missed him. Even in her uncertainty, she missed him.
Just landed. She typed. Feels... different.
Different how? His reply was quick, as though he could sense something in her words.
She paused before responding, gathering her thoughts. It wasn't just the change in scenery or the shift in her career—it was something deeper. She had to be honest with him, even if it felt risky.
I thought Paris was where I belonged. But I think I've realized that it's not. I miss Brazil. I miss... being home.
There was a pause before Franco's reply came, his words careful but understanding.
I know what you mean. Argentina's been calling me back lately, too.
Her chest tightened at his words. She had always thought of their relationship as something that could endure distance, but the realization that he, too, was feeling the pull of home made her heart ache. They were closer than she thought—just a few hours away from each other, really. Argentina and Brazil were neighbors, separated by little more than a river, yet the connection between them felt vast.
I miss it there too... she replied. Brazil is where I feel like myself again. But I don't want this to mean... She struggled for the words. I don't want to push us apart.
You won't, Franco's response was immediate. It's never about leaving. It's about finding what makes you feel alive. And if that means going home for a while, then I get it. I can wait. And who knows? I'm not that far away, after all.
A lump formed in her throat as she read his message. Franco wasn't telling her to choose between him and Brazil—he was letting her choose herself. It was a kindness that made her feel both relieved and deeply conflicted. She didn't want to lose him, but she couldn't ignore the growing ache in her heart for Brazil.
She had spent so much of her life chasing a version of herself that fit the mold of Paris. But Paris never truly felt like home. Not the way Brazil did. But what did that mean for her future with Franco? Was this the end of the beginning, or simply a pause?
I'm not going anywhere, Franco. I still want us—still want this. But I need to be in Brazil for a while. I need to remember who I am before I can move forward.
I know, he typed back. And I'll be here. Whenever you're ready, whether it's a few weeks or a few months. Just promise me something: don't lose yourself while you're finding what you need. And if Brazil brings you peace, then that's where you should be.
Angelys smiled softly, the weight on her chest easing. He understood. He wasn't asking her to choose between him and her country—he was asking her to choose herself, and that was all she really needed. She wasn't leaving Paris for good; she was simply giving herself the space to breathe, to remember the parts of her life she had buried in the pursuit of fame and success.
And Argentina wasn't far away, after all.
I'll come back to you, Franco. I promise. And when I do, we'll figure out what comes next.
She could almost hear his smile through the screen as he replied, I'll be waiting, Angelys. Take the time you need. I'll be right here.
As her cab pulled up to her apartment in Paris, Angelys looked at the city she had once thought of as home. It was beautiful, but it wasn't where her heart was anymore. Not right now. Right now, her heart belonged to Brazil. And she knew that finding herself there didn't mean losing what she had with Franco. If anything, it meant building something even stronger.
She took a deep breath as she stepped out of the cab, feeling the cool Parisian air wrap around her. It wasn't goodbye. Not yet. But it was a new beginning—a journey back to herself, with the knowledge that love and distance didn't have to be mutually exclusive.
