The silence between them wasn't empty.
It was thick—like fog that refused to lift, like the space between two people standing on a wire stretched over fire.
Luna didn't press him again. She didn't need to. His silence said more than words ever could.
They walked down the hill under moonlight, cherry blossoms raining slowly around them in defiance of the season. The petals didn't feel soft. They felt like paper—delicate, worn, too old to still be blooming.
Some things were unnatural.
Some things were pretending not to be.
Scene Cut – The Apartment
Luna showered the scent of fate and fire off her skin. Steam curled around her like the red thread had followed her home, clinging to her spine. Even after drying off and changing into oversized pajamas, she still felt cold.
Lola was watching a drama rerun in the living room. Something about star-crossed lovers and a ghost. Luna didn't need to ask which episode—Lola always rewatched the ones that hurt the most.
"You're home early," Lola said without looking.
Luna raised an eyebrow. "It's midnight."
"In this house, that's early. Come here."
Luna curled beside her on the couch, head resting against her shoulder like she was five again.
"Something's wrong," Lola said softly, smoothing her hair. "Your thread's humming."
Luna froze. "You can feel it?"
Her grandmother chuckled. "Anak, I've felt it since the day you were born."
Luna turned her head. "Lola… why didn't you ever tell me about the threads? About what I was?"
Lola paused. The TV flickered light over her face.
"Because sometimes, knowing too early is worse than not knowing at all. Threads reveal themselves when you're ready. Not before."
"But what if I'm not ready now either?"
"You are," Lola said. Then added, with a wry smile, "You just don't like it."
Scene Cut – Rooftop
Later, unable to sleep, Luna found herself on the rooftop, mug of cold tea in hand. The city buzzed below—quiet in its own chaotic way. Lights blinked. Lives moved. Threads danced invisible in the air, just beyond sight.
Then—footsteps.
She didn't need to look. She knew it was him.
"You ever knock?" she asked.
Rae Jin stood at the edge of the rooftop like he belonged to the sky. "I don't like doors."
She rolled her eyes. "Figures."
For a while, neither of them spoke. Then:
"I didn't cut the thread today because I believed they deserved a chance," Luna said. "But part of me… I think I just didn't want to be like you."
He didn't flinch.
"I know," he said quietly. "That's why I let you decide."
She looked at him. "You trusted me."
"Not at first. But now… I'm not sure if that's good or dangerous."
Something flickered between them.
Not heat.
Something older. More delicate. Like a piano note held too long.
"You said you fell for the wrong thread once," she said. "Tell me."
Rae Jin was silent. But the shadows on his face shifted—like he was watching something only he could see.
"It was golden," he finally said.
Luna's breath caught.
"The moment it turned, I felt it burn straight through me. I didn't run. I held onto it. I thought… if I just believed hard enough, I could rewrite what fate wrote wrong."
He turned to her, eyes darker than the night.
"I was wrong. And she paid for it."
Luna opened her mouth. Then closed it.
And instead of words, she reached out.
Her fingers grazed the red thread between them. Just enough to make it shimmer.
"You think I'm the wrong thread," she whispered.
Rae looked at her hand. Then up into her eyes.
"No," he said. "I think you're the one I'll end up breaking the rules for."
Luna's chest tightened.
A gust of wind blew past, cold and final. Somewhere far off, a thread snapped—clean and echoing like a gunshot.
Both of them flinched.
Rae turned. His voice low, urgent.
"Something's wrong. Something just unraveled."
He held out his hand.
She didn't hesitate this time.
Scene Cut – Unknown Threadsite
It was worse than before.
Three bodies.
No threads.
Just burn marks where connections used to be.
Rae scanned the scene, jaw clenched. "This wasn't a natural severing. Someone cut them."
Luna stepped forward, stomach twisting. "But not you."
"No," he said. Then paused. "...And not anyone I trained."
She stared at him. "There are more of you?"
He didn't meet her eyes. "Were."
And then—Luna saw it.
A piece of thread on the ground. Flickering. Not red. Not gold.
Silver.
She knelt, touching it gently.
It sparked against her skin and whispered something she couldn't understand—but she felt it like static in her bones.
"This wasn't fate," she murmured. "This was a message."
Rae looked down at her.
"What did it say?"
She looked up at him, eyes narrowing.
"They're coming for us."