Chapter Text
In some parts of the world, people are born with an invisible red string tied around their pinky finger. It connects them to the person they're destined to meet. The string can stretch across oceans, twist around buildings, and become tangled in the lives of thousands of strangers, but it can never break.
At least, that's what everyone believes.
Unfortunately for Mizi, her string has been leading her to the same girl for seventeen years.
And that girl absolutely hates her.
Mizi had always thought the red string theory was stupid.
Not because she didn't believe in love. Actually, she believed in love a little too much, which was probably why she found the whole idea so terrifying. The thought that somewhere in the world, there was a person she was supposedly destined to fall in love with, someone she'd never met but was apparently connected to by some invisible force, made her feel weird. What if she didn't like them? What if they were a terrible person? What if she met them and they didn't love her back? And, most importantly, what if she fell in love with somebody else?
Apparently, none of those questions mattered to the people who believed in the theory. Her mother had told her that the string would always lead her to the right person, no matter how many wrong turns she took. Her grandmother had once told her that she'd known her husband was the one because the string around her finger had practically pulled her across a crowded train station. Even her classmates were obsessed with it, constantly comparing strings and making ridiculous predictions about who would end up marrying whom. Mizi had always laughed along, pretending she wasn't curious about her own.
Until her seventeenth birthday.
She'd woken up that morning with a thin red thread wrapped around the pinky finger of her left hand.
At first, she'd thought it was a piece of fabric from her blanket. She tried pulling it off, only to realize that the thread continued past her fingertip, extending into the empty space beside her bed. It was impossibly thin, almost transparent when she looked at it directly, but whenever the sunlight touched it, the thread glowed a deep, beautiful red. She followed it with her eyes until it disappeared through her bedroom door, continued down the hallway, and slipped through the front door of her house.
Mizi stared at it for a solid five minutes.
Then she screamed for her mother.
Her mother cried. Her grandmother cried. Her father took approximately two hundred pictures of her hand before asking whether she could feel anything if he gently tugged on the string. Mizi threatened to bite him if he tried.
By lunchtime, her entire family had decided that this was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to them.
Mizi, meanwhile, was beginning to regret being born.
Because the string didn't lead to some mysterious person living in another country. It didn't disappear into the distance, leaving her to wonder when their paths would cross.
No.
It led straight to her school.
And, as she discovered on her first day back after the weekend, it led to the most insufferable girl she had ever met.
Sua.
Mizi had known Sua since their first year of high school, although known was probably a generous way of putting it. They shared a few classes, occasionally ended up in the same group projects, and had developed a mutual dislike for each other that was practically legendary among their friends.
Sua thought Mizi was obnoxiously loud, overly friendly, and incapable of taking anything seriously. Mizi thought Sua was unnecessarily rude, painfully judgmental, and possibly born without the ability to smile at normal human beings.
Neither of them was entirely wrong.
Their first argument had happened during a group assignment when Sua had told Mizi that her presentation was "a little difficult to follow." Mizi had responded by asking whether Sua had considered getting a personality instead of criticizing everyone else's work. Their teacher had separated them before the situation could get worse, but the damage had already been done. Since then, they'd developed a habit of arguing over absolutely everything.
So when Mizi walked into literature class on Monday morning and saw a bright red string stretching from her pinky finger directly toward Sua's desk, she seriously considered dropping out of school.
"No," she whispered.
The string glowed faintly in the sunlight.
"No, no, no."
She pulled her hand closer to her chest, as if that would somehow change the direction of the thread. It didn't. She turned around, walked straight back out of the classroom, and stood in the hallway staring at her finger.
Maybe she'd misunderstood the theory. Maybe the string was connected to someone sitting behind Sua. Maybe it was a weird coincidence. Maybe she was having some kind of extremely elaborate mental breakdown.
She slowly leaned around the classroom door.
Sua was sitting by the window, reading a book with her usual expression of complete disinterest in the world. The red string stretched from Mizi's finger, across the room, and disappeared beneath the sleeve of Sua's uniform.
Mizi immediately pulled her head back.
"Oh, I'm going to throw up."
"Are you planning to stand there all day?"
Mizi nearly jumped out of her skin.
Sua was standing directly behind her.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other. Then Sua's eyes moved toward Mizi's hand.
More specifically, toward the glowing red thread wrapped around her pinky.
Her expression changed.
It was subtle, but Mizi noticed it. Sua's eyes widened slightly, and the color seemed to drain from her face. For once, she didn't have a sarcastic comment ready.
Instead, she slowly lifted her own left hand.
There was a red string around her pinky, too.
Mizi stared at it.
Then at Sua.
Then back at the string.
"You're kidding."
Sua looked equally horrified.
"Unfortunately, no."
Mizi let out a laugh that sounded dangerously close to a sob. "Absolutely not. There's been a mistake."
"That's what I was thinking."
"Good. Great. We agree. We're going to figure this out, and then we're going to get these things off our hands."
Sua crossed her arms. "You think I want to be connected to you?"
"Trust me, the feeling is mutual."
"Wonderful."
"Fantastic."
They stood in silence for a few seconds, both glaring at their respective strings.
Then Sua turned around and walked back into the classroom.
Mizi followed her.
Because apparently, the universe had decided that ruining her life wasn't enough. It wanted to make sure she had a front-row seat.
The first week was a disaster.
Mizi discovered that the string was not, in fact, removable. She tried scissors, which passed straight through it. She tried tying it around a pencil and pulling, which resulted in Sua yelling at her from across the room because apparently she could feel the tug. She even tried wrapping it around her finger so tightly that the thread disappeared beneath her skin, only for it to reappear the moment she let go.
Sua, who was somehow even more determined to get rid of the thing, spent hours researching whether the red string theory had any documented exceptions.
Neither of them found anything useful.
Worse, the string seemed to have a personality of its own.
Whenever Mizi walked too far away from Sua, it stretched. When they were on opposite sides of the school, it became so taut that Mizi could feel a faint pull against her finger. If Sua went down a hallway and Mizi took a different route, the thread would tug gently in the direction Sua had gone, as though it were personally offended by Mizi's decision to take the stairs.
The most humiliating incident happened on Friday.
Mizi was in the middle of eating lunch with her friends when she noticed the string had become unusually tight. She glanced toward the cafeteria entrance and saw Sua standing there, looking directly at her.
Mizi immediately looked away.
The thread tugged.
She ignored it.
It tugged again.
Mizi frowned at her hand.
Across the table, one of her friends noticed. "Why does your finger keep doing that?"
"It doesn't."
"It literally just moved."
"It's a medical condition."
Her friend narrowed her eyes. "Is Sua your soulmate?"
Mizi choked on her drink.
Across the cafeteria, Sua looked like she was considering walking into traffic.
"NO," they shouted simultaneously.
The entire table went quiet.
Mizi wanted to evaporate.
Her friend slowly smiled.
"Oh, this is going to be interesting."
"It is not interesting," Mizi insisted. "It's actually the worst thing that's ever happened to me."
"You're being dramatic."
"I'm being realistic."
"You're blushing."
"I'm experiencing a medical emergency."
And, to make matters worse, Sua had heard every word.
For the rest of the day, she refused to look at Mizi.
Mizi told herself she didn't care.
She repeated it in her head on the way home. She repeated it while brushing her teeth. She repeated it while lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering whether the universe had some personal grudge against her.
She didn't care.
She didn't care.
She definitely didn't care that Sua hadn't looked at her once all afternoon.
And she absolutely did not care that the string had felt strangely warm whenever Sua stood close to her.
The worst part about being connected to someone by a red string was that it made avoiding them practically impossible.
Even when they weren't talking, Mizi knew where Sua was. She could feel the faintest tug whenever Sua moved, and if she paid enough attention, she could almost tell when Sua was standing nearby without even looking.
It was annoying.
It was distracting.
It was becoming a problem.
Because, somewhere between arguing over homework and accidentally getting dragged into the same school club, Mizi started noticing things about Sua that she'd never bothered to notice before.
She noticed that Sua always stayed behind to help their literature teacher organize papers, even when she complained about how much she hated the class. She noticed that Sua quietly left food on the desks of classmates who forgot their lunch. She noticed that whenever someone made a joke at another person's expense, Sua was usually the first person to tell them to stop.
And she noticed that Sua was lonely.
Not in an obvious way. Sua had friends, although she seemed to keep most people at a distance. She could spend an entire lunch period surrounded by classmates and still look as though she was somewhere else entirely. Sometimes Mizi would catch her staring out of the classroom window, her expression unreadable, and wonder what she was thinking about.
The realization that Sua was more complicated than Mizi had assumed made her uncomfortable.
It was much easier to dislike someone when you could pretend there was nothing worth liking about them.
Unfortunately, the universe seemed determined to make that impossible.
Their teacher announced a literature project in the second week of October. They would have to work in pairs to write a short story about fate, free will, and the question of whether people could choose their own futures.
Mizi nearly laughed.
Of course.
Of course the universe would do this to her.
And, because apparently she hadn't suffered enough, their teacher assigned the pairs herself.
"Mizi and Sua."
The classroom erupted into laughter.
Mizi dropped her head onto her desk.
Sua closed her eyes.
Their teacher looked between them. "Is there a problem?"
"No," Sua answered immediately.
"Several," Mizi muttered.
"Then I suggest you two work through them."
And just like that, Mizi was forced to spend three afternoons a week with the girl who was apparently destined to be her soulmate.
The irony was not lost on her.
Their first meeting to work on the assignment took place in the library.
Mizi arrived ten minutes late with two drinks, a bag of cookies, and absolutely no idea what she wanted their story to be about. Sua was already seated at a table near the back, surrounded by books and notes.
"You're late," Sua said.
"I brought snacks."
"That doesn't change the fact that you're late."
"It should."
Sua sighed, but accepted the drink Mizi offered her.
They spent the first hour arguing over the assignment. Mizi wanted to write a romance about two people who kept meeting in different lifetimes. Sua wanted something more realistic, preferably without the characters making stupid decisions for the sake of destiny.
"So basically," Mizi said, leaning back in her chair, "you want to write a story about two people who hate each other."
"I want to write a story about people who make their own decisions."
"That's boring."
"Not everything has to be romantic."
Mizi opened her mouth to argue, then paused.
"Do you actually believe in the red string theory?"
Sua stopped writing.
It was the first time Mizi had asked her a question about it that wasn't a complaint.
"I don't know," Sua admitted. "I used to."
"What changed?"
Sua looked down at her notebook. "My parents."
Mizi waited.
"They have a string," Sua explained. "They've had it since they were young. Everyone used to talk about how perfect they were together, how lucky they were to have found each other. But they fight all the time now. They barely speak unless they have to, and whenever they do, it's usually about something they're angry about."
Mizi's smile faded.
Sua continued, her voice quieter than before. "I remember asking my mother why she stayed if they were so unhappy. She told me that their strings were connected, so they were meant to be together. She said that sometimes love was difficult and that I would understand when I grew up."
She let out a small laugh, but there was nothing happy about it.
"I just remember thinking that if being someone's soulmate meant staying with them even when you weren't happy, then I didn't want one."
Mizi didn't know what to say.
For once, she didn't try to fill the silence.
She looked down at her own pinky, where the red thread curled around her skin.
"That's kind of what I'm scared of, too," she admitted. "Everyone keeps telling me that this means Sua is the person I'm supposed to love, but what if we don't work out? What if we're only together because some stupid string says we have to be? I don't want to spend my whole life with someone because I feel like I owe it to the universe."
Sua looked at her.
Mizi shrugged, suddenly embarrassed by how much she'd said. "I don't know. Maybe I'm overthinking it."
"No," Sua said. "I think you're right."
It was the first time Sua had ever agreed with her without adding some kind of insult afterward.
Mizi looked up.
For a second, they simply stared at each other.
Then Sua pushed the cookies toward her.
"You should eat something. You get annoying when you're hungry."
Mizi laughed.
And, for the first time since the strings appeared, the thought of being connected to Sua didn't feel quite so terrible.
By November, Mizi had developed a problem.
She was starting to look forward to seeing Sua.
Not because of the string. She told herself that repeatedly. It had nothing to do with the fact that she could feel the thread growing warm whenever Sua approached, or that she had begun recognizing Sua's footsteps in the hallway.
She simply liked spending time with her.
She liked the way Sua listened when she talked about things that mattered to her. She liked how she would remember tiny details Mizi had mentioned weeks earlier. She liked how Sua pretended to be annoyed whenever Mizi stole her pens, even though she always brought extra ones because she knew Mizi would lose hers.
She liked the way Sua smiled when she thought nobody was looking.
And that was the problem.
Because Mizi was beginning to wonder whether she would still want to be around Sua if the string disappeared.
The answer came to her one afternoon when Sua didn't show up at their usual meeting place.
Mizi waited in the library for twenty minutes before checking her phone. There was no message from Sua, which was unusual. She tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail.
She told herself it wasn't a big deal.
Maybe Sua was busy.
Maybe she'd forgotten.
Maybe she had decided she was tired of spending time with Mizi.
That last possibility bothered her more than it should have.
Eventually, Mizi packed her things and headed toward the front entrance. She was halfway down the stairs when she noticed the red string pulling sharply toward the opposite side of the building.
She stopped.
The thread trembled.
Something felt wrong.
Mizi followed it.
She found Sua sitting on the floor of an empty classroom, her knees pulled toward her chest. Her schoolbag lay beside her, and her phone was face down on the floor. She looked up when Mizi entered, immediately wiping at her eyes.
Mizi froze.
"Sua?"
"I'm fine."
It was such an obvious lie that Mizi didn't even bother responding to it.
She closed the door behind her and sat down beside Sua.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then Sua let out a shaky breath.
"My parents are getting divorced."
Mizi's heart sank.
"Oh."
"They told me this morning. They said they've been unhappy for years, but they kept trying because they thought things would eventually get better." Sua laughed bitterly. "They have matching strings, Mizi. They've been connected since they were children. And they still couldn't make it work."
Mizi looked at her hands.
Sua's fingers were trembling.
"I know it's stupid to care about something like that, but I can't stop thinking about it. What if that's all this is? What if we're just two people who happen to have the same string, and one day we'll wake up and realize we don't even like each other anymore?"
Mizi felt something twist in her chest.
She wanted to tell Sua that everything would be fine. She wanted to promise that they would never end up like her parents, that they would always love each other, that the string meant something and that neither of them had anything to worry about.
But she couldn't promise any of that.
Nobody could.
So instead, she reached for Sua's hand.
"I don't think it's stupid."
Sua looked at her.
"And I don't think a string can make someone love you," Mizi continued. "I think it can make you meet someone. Maybe it can bring you into the same room or make you notice each other when you would've walked right past. But it can't make you care about them. It can't make you forgive them when they hurt you, or make you stay when things get hard."
She squeezed Sua's hand gently.
"That's something you have to choose."
Sua's eyes filled with tears again.
Mizi swallowed.
"And I don't know what's going to happen to us. I can't promise that we'll never fight or that we'll never hurt each other. I can't promise that we'll feel the same way about everything forever."
She paused, trying to find the right words.
"But I know that right now, I want to be here. Not because of the string. Not because we're supposed to be together. I want to be here because you're my friend, and I care about you. And if you don't want me to leave, then I'm not going anywhere."
Sua stared at her for a long moment.
Then she leaned forward and buried her face in Mizi's shoulder.
Mizi wrapped her arms around her.
She held her while she cried, running a hand gently over her hair and whispering that she didn't have to figure everything out today.
For the first time, Mizi stopped thinking about what the string meant.
All she cared about was the girl in her arms.
After that afternoon, things between them became different.
Not in some dramatic, life-changing way. They still argued over their assignment, still complained about school, and still fought over which café had the best pastries. But there was a new kind of closeness between them, something neither of them seemed to know how to talk about.
Sua started reaching for Mizi's hand when they walked together. Mizi started saving the seat beside her in class, even when there were other people who wanted it. Sometimes they would sit in the library without saying anything, their hands resting together beneath the table, and Mizi would find herself wondering how she had ever thought being connected to Sua was the worst thing that could happen to her.
She was happy.
And that terrified her.
Because she couldn't tell whether she was falling in love with Sua or simply convincing herself that she was supposed to.
The distinction became impossible to ignore when the strings changed.
It happened on a Thursday morning.
Mizi was sitting in class, doodling in the corner of her notebook, when she noticed something strange about the thread around her finger. Usually, it glowed a steady red, but now it seemed duller, almost faded. She rubbed her eyes and looked again.
The thread was still there.
But it was no longer pulling toward Sua.
Instead, it hung loosely between them.
Mizi's stomach dropped.
She glanced across the classroom.
Sua was staring at her own hand.
Their eyes met.
Neither of them said anything.
For the rest of the day, Mizi couldn't concentrate. She kept looking at the thread, waiting for it to brighten again, for the familiar tug to return. It didn't.
By the time classes ended, she was convinced that something had gone wrong.
Maybe she'd misunderstood everything.
Maybe the string was telling her that Sua wasn't actually her soulmate.
Or maybe it was telling her that she had already met the person she was meant to be with, and that person wasn't Sua.
The thought made her feel sick.
She found Sua waiting outside the classroom.
"Have you noticed?" Sua asked quietly.
Mizi nodded.
They stood in the hallway, surrounded by students rushing toward the exits, but neither of them moved.
"Do you think it means something?" Mizi asked.
Sua looked down at the thread.
"I don't know."
Mizi tried to laugh, but it came out wrong.
"Maybe the universe finally realized it made a mistake."
Sua's expression changed.
"Mizi—"
"It's fine," Mizi interrupted quickly. "I mean, it's probably a good thing, right? We don't have to worry about all the soulmate stuff anymore. We can just go back to normal."
"Do you want to?"
Mizi looked at her.
Sua's voice was quiet, but there was something fragile beneath it.
"Do you actually want to go back to how things were before?"
Mizi opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because the answer was no.
She didn't want to go back to arguing with Sua without knowing what she was thinking. She didn't want to sit beside her and pretend that holding her hand didn't make her happy. She didn't want to return to a life where Sua was simply another girl in her literature class.
She wanted the afternoons in the library.
She wanted their stupid arguments.
She wanted to hear Sua laugh.
She wanted to be the person Sua looked for when something went wrong.
And she wanted all of those things even if the string disappeared completely.
Mizi looked down at their hands.
Then, slowly, she reached for Sua's.
"I don't want to go back."
Sua's fingers curled around hers.
"Neither do I."
Mizi looked up.
For a moment, she thought Sua might say something else. Instead, Sua simply stood there, holding her hand in the middle of the crowded hallway, her cheeks turning pink.
And somehow, that was enough.
Their literature assignment was due the following Monday.
They submitted a story about two people who were connected by a red string but chose to fall in love on their own terms.
Their teacher gave them the highest grade in the class.
Mizi thought that was pretty funny, considering she'd spent most of the semester complaining about the project.
But there was one part of the story that Sua had written herself, and Mizi couldn't stop thinking about it.
Maybe fate is not about finding the person you're destined to love. Maybe it's about meeting someone who makes you want to choose them, even when you have no idea what the future holds.
Mizi had read that sentence at least twenty times.
She wanted to ask Sua what she'd meant by it, but every time she tried, she got nervous and changed the subject.
Until Friday afternoon.
They were sitting on the school rooftop, watching the sunset. The weather had finally started getting colder, and Sua had brought an extra sweater because Mizi had forgotten hers. They were sharing a pair of earphones, listening to a song neither of them was paying much attention to.
Mizi looked down at her pinky.
The string was glowing again.
Not as brightly as before, but enough that she could see the red thread stretching between them.
She smiled a little.
"Sua?"
"Hm?"
"Can I ask you something?"
Sua turned toward her. "You just did."
Mizi groaned. "I'm being serious."
"Okay. Go ahead."
Mizi took a deep breath.
"Do you believe we're supposed to be together?"
Sua was quiet for a while.
Then she looked at their hands.
"I think we're supposed to meet."
Mizi waited.
"But I don't think that means we're supposed to fall in love," Sua continued. "I think that's something we have to decide for ourselves."
Mizi's heart started beating faster.
"So what if we didn't have the strings?"
Sua looked at her.
"What?"
"What if we weren't connected? What if we were just two random girls who happened to go to the same school? Would you still want to be with me?"
Sua stared at her for a moment.
Then she smiled.
"Yes."
Mizi blinked.
"Really?"
"Really."
"Even though I'm annoying?"
"Especially because you're annoying."
Mizi gasped. "That was so mean!"
Sua laughed, and Mizi couldn't help laughing with her.
Then Sua's expression softened.
"Mizi, I don't want to be with you because a string tells me to. I want to be with you because you make me happy. Because you listen to me, even when I don't know how to explain what's wrong. Because you make me laugh when I don't feel like smiling. Because you're the first person I want to tell when something good happens, and the person I look for when something bad happens."
She paused, looking almost embarrassed by her own words.
"And because I think I've been in love with you for a while now."
Mizi stopped breathing.
For a second, she genuinely forgot how to speak.
Then she grabbed Sua's hand.
"Wait. You're in love with me?"
Sua's cheeks turned bright pink. "I literally just said that."
"No, I know, but I need you to say it again."
"I'm not repeating it."
"Please?"
"No."
"Sua!"
Sua laughed, shaking her head.
Then she looked Mizi directly in the eyes.
"I'm in love with you."
Mizi felt like her entire world had just lit up.
She smiled so hard that her cheeks started hurting.
"Well, that's convenient," she whispered. "Because I'm in love with you, too."
Sua's expression softened into something Mizi had never seen before. She looked happy, but also nervous, like she was standing at the edge of something she wanted to jump into but didn't know how deep it was.
Mizi understood the feeling.
She was scared, too.
But for once, she didn't want to let that fear decide what happened next.
"So..." Mizi began, rubbing her thumb against Sua's hand. "Would you maybe want to be my girlfriend?"
Sua stared at her.
Then she laughed.
"You're asking me that now?"
"What do you mean, now?"
"We've spent months holding hands, spending every afternoon together, and acting like an old married couple."
Mizi's mouth fell open.
"Are you saying I missed my chance to ask you out?"
"I'm saying you're an idiot."
"An idiot who's trying to ask you out!"
Sua smiled.
"Yes, Mizi. I'll be your girlfriend."
Mizi made a noise that was probably not human.
Then she threw her arms around Sua, nearly knocking both of them sideways.
Sua laughed against her shoulder and wrapped her arms around her in return.
For a while, they stayed like that, holding each other as the sun slowly disappeared behind the buildings.
Mizi didn't think about the future.
She didn't think about whether they would last forever, whether their strings would stay bright, or whether the universe had some grand plan for them.
She just held Sua.
And that was enough.
A few weeks later, Mizi discovered something strange.
The red string had changed again.
It no longer tugged whenever she walked away from Sua. It didn't pull her through crowded hallways or drag her toward the classroom where Sua was waiting. It simply rested around her pinky, stretching gently between them whenever they stood close.
For the first time since her seventeenth birthday, Mizi could walk in whichever direction she wanted.
And so could Sua.
They could sit together because they wanted to. They could hold hands because they wanted to. They could choose to spend their afternoons in the library, argue over pastries, and walk home together beneath the streetlights.
The string was still there.
But it no longer felt like a command.
It felt like a reminder.
One afternoon, Mizi and Sua were walking home when Mizi stopped beside a small flower shop. She stared through the window for a moment before turning toward her girlfriend.
"Sua?"
"What?"
"Do you think we'll stay together forever?"
Sua looked at her.
It was an unfair question, and Mizi knew it. They were still in high school. They had exams to worry about, futures to figure out, and an entire world waiting beyond the streets they walked every day. Neither of them could possibly know what would happen years from now.
But Sua didn't laugh at her.
She simply reached for Mizi's hand.
"I don't know," she admitted. "But I want to."
Mizi smiled.
"Me too."
Sua glanced at their pinkies, where the red string glowed faintly beneath the evening light.
"Maybe that's what it's supposed to mean."
"What?"
"That we're given the chance to meet someone. Not a guarantee that we'll stay together, but a chance to choose them."
Mizi thought about that for a moment.
Then she leaned over and kissed Sua on the cheek.
Sua immediately turned red.
"Mizi!"
"What? You're my girlfriend!"
"That doesn't mean you can just do that whenever you want!"
"Actually, I think that's exactly what it means."
Sua rolled her eyes, but she didn't let go of Mizi's hand.
And Mizi, who had once spent an entire week trying to cut the red string off her finger, found herself hoping that it would stay there for a very long time.
Not because she was afraid of losing the person fate had chosen for her.
But because, given the choice, she would choose Sua anyway.
Every lifetime.
Every universe.
Every single time.
And maybe, Mizi thought as Sua pulled her closer beneath the evening sky, that was what the red string theory had been trying to tell her all along.
Not that she was destined to love Sua.
But that, somehow, fate had given her the chance to meet a girl she would want to love.
And that was a chance she intended to take.
The End.