Threads of Destiny

The bell above the shop door still jingled in Léa Vance’s mind as she smoothed down her dress for the third time that evening. She had grown up in the little apartment above her parents’ store, surrounded by bolts of fabric and neatly stacked shelves of household goods, but tonight the world felt wider, brighter. She had been accepted. Étoilemont. The capital. College. Her father had closed the shop early, something he almost never did, and her mother had insisted on a proper celebration. Now the four of them sat in Rosélac’s most beloved restaurant, La Maison des Arches, its arched windows glowing with golden lamplight, the murmur of other diners wrapped around them like music. Julien was already halfway through his first complaint. “I still can’t believe you’re not coming to my college. Do you know how much easier it would’ve been for you? I could’ve shown you all the shortcuts, introduced you to my friends—” Léa laughed, shaking her head. “And spend the next three years as Julien’s little sister? No, thank you. I’d rather survive on my own.” Their mother hid a smile behind her napkin, while their father raised an eyebrow at Julien. “She got into her college on her own merits. That deserves celebrating, not sulking.” Julien made a show of sighing dramatically, though his grin gave him away. “Fine, fine. But don’t come crying to me when you get lost on the tram your first week.” “I’ll manage,” Léa said, though a little flutter of nerves stirred in her stomach. Her father lifted his glass, his voice steady but warm. “To Léa. To hard work and new beginnings.” They all raised their glasses, the clink of crystal sounding sharper, more important than usual. Léa felt her cheeks flush. She was used to imagining things quietly — the smell of lavender fields in summer, the way sunlight shimmered over the lake — but tonight the dream was real. Étoilemont was waiting. When she looked at her family — her father’s weathered hands, her mother’s soft smile, Julien’s teasing grin — she felt the tug of home even as her heart beat faster for the unknown. --- The acceptance letter still lay open on the Ramones’ polished dining table when Appie’s mother clapped her hands together and said, “We’re not staying in tonight. Pack a bag. We’re driving.” “Driving where?” Appie asked, though her grin was already spreading. “South,” her father said with a shrug, grabbing the car keys from their silver tray. “Does it matter?” And that was how, an hour later, the Ramone family car was humming down the open road out of Étoilemont, Appie curled in the back seat with her shoes off, her laughter spilling into the warm evening air. The city lights dwindled behind them, replaced by rolling hills and lavender fields still glowing in the late sun. Her mother had packed a basket of food — cheese, bread, and cherries — and kept turning in her seat to hand things back to Appie. Her father drummed the steering wheel with his thumbs in time to the music playing on the radio, an old folk song Appie only half-knew but sang along to anyway. “Imagine,” her mother said, eyes sparkling, “our little Appie, walking the grand halls of college. You’ll dazzle everyone, just as you always do.” “Don’t encourage her,” her father teased, though his voice was warm. “She’ll have half the city under her spell before the semester’s out.” Appie leaned forward, resting her chin on the back of their seats. “Don’t be ridiculous. They’ll all just be friends.” Her parents exchanged a glance — affectionate, knowing, but said nothing. They drove until the sky deepened to violet, pulling over by a quiet lake. The water reflected the first stars, and Appie lay in the grass, her head pillowed on her mother’s lap, as her father uncorked a bottle of sparkling cider. “To our daughter,” he said, raising the bottle. “To adventures, to laughter, to the future.” The three of them clinked their glasses together, the sound echoing lightly in the night. Appie closed her eyes, breathing in the cool air, her heart swelling. To her, life had always felt like this — a road stretching wide, her parents beside her, laughter never far away. The world was waiting, and she couldn’t wait to step into it. --- The house above the shop was quiet. Léa lay beneath her quilt, the faint hum of Rosélac’s summer night drifting in through the open window — cicadas, a dog barking far away, the sigh of wind across the lake. She clutched her acceptance letter on the nightstand as if it were fragile, as if it might vanish before morning. Julien’s teasing replayed in her head. New city. New college. New people. She tried to picture herself walking the wide boulevards of Étoilemont, speaking easily to strangers, raising her hand in a lecture hall without hesitation. But the images slipped away as quickly as they came. She wasn’t afraid, not exactly. Just… overwhelmed by how big it all suddenly felt. She pressed her face into the pillow, whispering into the dark: I’ll manage. --- In a hotel room two hundred kilometers north, Appie Ramone lay sprawled across the soft white sheets, the sounds of the countryside muffled through the tall windows. Her parents had fallen asleep already, content after their impromptu road trip, but Appie’s mind refused to settle. She thought about the college letter, about how her mother’s eyes had shone, about how her father had said she’d dazzle everyone. She wanted to believe it — she always believed her parents — but the word college felt like a door swinging open to a room she hadn’t yet imagined. Would everyone really like her? Would it be as easy as it had always been? Or was there something different waiting, something she didn’t have a name for? Appie rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. She tried to laugh at herself — of course it would be fine, it was always fine. And yet, somewhere beneath the laughter, a flicker of nerves stirred. --- In two separate beds, in two separate cities, both girls closed their eyes against the same night. And though they didn’t know it yet, the paths of their lives were already bending toward each other.