Red Thread Theory

Chapter One: The Red String

Ivy Bennett stood at the window of her apartment, gazing out at the city as the rain tapped softly against the glass. The world outside was alive with movement, people rushing to get to places, unaware of the invisible threads that connected them to one another. She wasn't one of those people. Not anymore.

Ever since she was young, Ivy had been obsessed with the idea of soulmates. The stories, the myths, the ancient belief that everyone had an invisible red string tying them to the person they were destined to love. For years, Ivy had watched friends, family, and even strangers walk through life with their strings clearly visible, like bright threads of destiny weaving their lives together. But not her. Ivy had grown up believing that she, too, would someday meet someone whose string would intertwine with hers. Someone who would pull her in, who would be her match. But it had never happened.

Her string had never appeared.

She tried to ignore the quiet ache that had settled in her chest over the years. After countless bad relationships, false hopes, and the weight of growing older without a soulmate, Ivy had decided to give up on the idea altogether. She stopped looking for love. Stopped believing in it. Instead, she poured herself into her work as a graphic designer, her apartment a sanctuary of muted colors and clean lines, where art and creativity were her only constants.

With a sigh, she turned from the window and grabbed her coat from the back of the chair. She was meeting her best friend, Lily, for coffee, though the thought of sitting in a café filled with couples made her feel, as always, like an outsider.

When she arrived, the café was bustling with life—laughter, clinking cups, and the hum of conversations filled the air. She spotted Lily immediately, sitting at their usual table by the window, a warm smile on her face. Lily had always been the hopeful one, the romantic, the person who could see the beauty in the connections between people, the way they all seemed to be linked by these invisible strings. Ivy loved her for it, but sometimes, it made Ivy feel like a stranger in her own life.

"You're late," Lily teased as Ivy sat down, handing her a steaming mug of coffee. "I was starting to think you'd ditched me for a new hobby—like knitting or something."

"Sorry," Ivy replied, forcing a smile. "Had to finish a project."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "That's code for avoiding the whole 'soulmate talk' again, isn't it?"

Ivy chuckled softly, her fingers curling around the warmth of the mug. "Maybe I'm just not in the mood to hear about how everyone's red string is leading them to happiness while mine is still tied up in knots."

Lily's smile faltered slightly. She didn't know how to respond to that. She could never quite understand why Ivy seemed so jaded about love, so disconnected from the idea of fate. Lily, on the other hand, had her soulmate, someone who made her heart feel full and complete, just as the stories said it should.

Ivy caught her friend's glance and shifted the conversation. "Anyway, enough about me. How's Mark?"

Lily brightened at the mention of her boyfriend. "He's good. We're planning a trip to the mountains next month. I think he's going to propose, Ivy."

Ivy forced another smile, but inside, something twisted. She didn't blame Lily. She just didn't know how to feel anymore. She wanted to be happy for her friend, but all she could think about was how the world seemed to pass her by, everyone else finding their strings while hers remained nonexistent.

Just as the conversation lulled into a quiet silence, the door to the café opened, and a man walked in. He was tall, wearing a dark coat that was clearly too big for him, and his eyes looked tired, like someone who had spent too long trying to understand the world and was now struggling to make sense of it. He walked past their table, pausing for a moment before glancing back at Ivy and Lily.

Ivy's eyes locked with his for a brief moment—a flicker of something unspoken between them. But it wasn't the kind of look she was used to. His gaze seemed to weigh on her, heavy yet searching, as if he were looking for something. It lasted only a second, and then he turned and took a seat at the counter.

Lily leaned closer to Ivy, lowering her voice. "Did you feel that?"

Ivy nodded, her heart suddenly racing. There was something about him, something... off. His presence seemed like it didn't quite belong in this space, like a thread pulled too tight and about to snap.

"I don't know what it is," Ivy whispered back, "but I don't think I'm the only one here without a string."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

Ivy looked back over at the man, watching as he sat, staring blankly at his coffee. His red string wasn't visible, but there was something strange about the way he sat there, as if it were tangled, pulling in all directions but leading nowhere.

Just then, the man stood up, grabbed his coffee, and began walking toward the door. As he passed their table again, he stopped for a moment, his eyes meeting Ivy's once more.

"I'm Julian," he said, his voice surprisingly soft. "Sorry, I just... I don't know why, but I felt like I had to talk to you."

Ivy blinked, unsure of what to say, and before she could respond, he was gone, vanishing into the rain.

Lily looked at Ivy, a curious glint in her eyes. "Well, that was... weird. Do you think he's one of those 'no-string' people, like you?"

Ivy could only stare after him, a sense of unease settling in her chest. There was something about Julian. Something that called to her in a way she couldn't explain. And for the first time in a long while, she felt the stirrings of something unfamiliar: hope.

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End of Chapter One.

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