The Red String

Chapter 3. First Encounter

[PLAY: Welcome To New York by Mary Desmond]

"It's the unexpected that changes our lives." — Unknown

It was exactly 8 pm, and rain was pouring down over the busy streets of New York, forcing people to stop walking along Fifth Avenue to take cover until the rain let up. Highly unlikely, Lauren thought as she gazed out the window of her office; it looked like a hailstorm.

Normani and Ally's laughter reached her ears as they flipped through the magazine Ally had shown her a few hours earlier. A red string connecting two people? What a load of bullshit, Lauren scoffed, rolling her eyes at the way her friends seemed to actually buy all that unrealistic nonsense.

For a moment, Lauren couldn't help but glance down at her hands, thinking that her invisible thread was somewhere in the space between her fingers and someone else's when they stood face to face, linking them together. It was all hypothetical, of course. There wasn't a single person on Earth capable of making Lauren believe in that ridiculous idea. She had always been very rational, pragmatic, and straightforward, not someone whose convictions could be easily manipulated.

Why bother beating around the bush? Speaking her mind had always been one of Lauren's strong suits. The green-eyed woman was outspoken and had a habit of voicing her thoughts, regardless of whether they might hurt people's feelings. She valued the same qualities in others, so only a small number of people could make a big impression on her. This is why she didn't believe in love—she had never believed in true love; in fact, she had never experienced it.

As she revisited the memories she had safely tucked away in her mind, a trace of bitterness clouded her emerald eyes. No one knew what it was like to be unloved like Lauren was. No one in that room but her truly knew what it was like to suffer and learn how to grapple with the harsh realities of life. Fantasies? Dreams? That so-called "red string"? They were nothing but stories tailored for the gullible and naive, those who clung to the belief of everlasting love.

When it came down to it, the only form of love that truly mattered was self-love, and Lauren had plenty of it. She had learned how to love and appreciate herself, and she had no intention of giving that love away to anyone who didn't earn it. Not everyone was deserving of love, and Lauren was well aware that her heart was, and would forever remain, out of reach⁠—that is, if there was anything left of it.

In a way, that's the reason why she had maintained a record of straight A's back when she was a student, why she was exceptional at her job and had reached the pinnacle of success at a young age. This was her way of making sure no one would cast her aside, neglect her, or forget about her again, like it happened before. She was Lauren Jauregui, an outstanding fashion designer, and that was something no one could take away from her.

Being able to reach the top was a product of her own effort, dedication, and hard work. The green-eyed woman had spent countless nights sewing and sketching her designs in the loneliness of her apartment, and it wasn't long before she teamed up with Ally and Normani to establish a worldwide-recognized brand; step by step, she was turning that vision into reality. She still had a long way to go, but Lauren knew the value of her work. She was good at her job, and there was no doubt that sooner or later her efforts would be worth it.

Stepping away from the window, Lauren shook her head. There was no point in feeling sorry for herself or dwelling in unnecessary pain. If something hurt her, it was best to just cut it out of her life; crying and mourning over lost love showed weakness, and the best course of action was to move on and stop depending on someone else's affection. After all, loving oneself was more important than anything else.

Lauren made her way toward her desk, picking up her purse while her friends watched in silence. She still had a lot of things to do, including picking up a very expensive fabric from one of her exclusive suppliers. And if she had to cross Brooklyn on a raft to get it, then so be it. Nothing was going to stand in her way of getting that fabric. Nothing at all. Not even the rain.