INVISIBLE STRING

I - Before the String

Karylle's POV

"Anak, ayusin mo buhok mo, oh," Mama said, twisting halfway from the front seat, one hand already reaching toward my face. Her fingers, as usual, were fast and gentle—tucking a few stubborn strands behind my ear like she'd been doing forever. "You want your crush to see you looking like a disheveled tarsier?"

I couldn't help but laugh, softly—because Papa was already smirking from the driver's seat.

"Crush agad?" I teased. "Wala po akong gano'n."

"Wala raw," Papa joined in. "Sabagay, 'yung string mo nga, wala pa rin." He winked at me through the rearview mirror.

My breath caught in my throat for half a second.

They always joked about it—about the red string I claimed I could see when I was little. Back then, they chalked it up to fairy tales, cartoons, or too many books about soulmates and fate. They thought it was cute. A phase.

I smiled like I always did. The same smile I wore when I was eight and whispered to them that they were tied together by something invisible and red.

Even if it pinched a little now.

"Baka naman may delay," I muttered, shrugging. "Slow internet si Fate."

They both laughed. That full, parental kind of laughter that says you're weird, but you're ours.

Outside the window, the school gates were already alive with students. Barkadahan laughter. Tricycle engines. Vendors yelling about hot taho. The usual early morning chaos of Riverside High School.

Papa eased the car to a stop. Mama handed me my baon—tuna sandwich and a bottle of my favorite iced coffee, always chilled just right.

"Text us if you need anything, okay?" Mama said, her hand squeezing mine for a moment longer than necessary.

"Don't forget to breathe between recitations," Papa added. "And smile when your crush walks by."

"Wala nga po akong—!" I started, but they were both grinning like they didn't believe a word.

"Bye, Ma. Bye, Pa. Love you," I said, a little more quietly now.

"Love you more," they chorused.

I kissed them goodbye, slung my bag over one shoulder, and stepped out of the car. The door shut behind me with a soft thud.

And then I saw it.

Their string.

Still glowing.

Still strong.

Still beautifully whole.

For a moment, I just stood there, the morning bustle fading into the background. I traced the line with my eyes—Mama's pinky to Papa's, connected by that same thread I'd always seen. Crimson, warm, alive.

It tightened something in my throat. Maybe it was envy. Maybe it was hope.

Maybe... it was okay that I hadn't found mine yet.

Maybe the best threads take their time.

I turned toward the school gates and stepped in. Another ordinary day. But it never really is when you're waiting for something impossible.

Maybe today.

Maybe soon.

Maybe someday, I'll finally find the one whose string connects to mine.