2:00 a.m. the red string

Tonight is one of those writing nights—the kind where the world feels softer, where my sheets are cool and crisp, the mattress cradles me just right, and my laptop hums patiently, waiting for my thoughts to spill onto the screen. Nights like these make me feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Lately, though, I’ve had moments where I wondered if the universe had forgotten about me. Rejection after rejection—competitions, scholarships, opportunities I had pinned my hopes on—each one felt like a personal rejection of me as a being. I found myself believing that the universe was playing some cruel game as if it had conspired against me. But here, in the quiet dark, I am reminded of something else: the universe has also done some pretty remarkable things.

There’s this belief called the Red String Theory—the idea that invisible red threads tether us to the people we are destined to meet. I’ve never been one for astrology or grand cosmic theories, but this one? This one, I believe in. I think there are certain people we are just meant to meet.

I realized this last summer.

A year before, I had applied to a program and been told I was too young to attend. I emailed them over and over, pleading for an exception. I got nothing but a firm “try again next year.” And thank goodness I did.

When I was finally accepted, I was placed in the second session. It felt perfect—I already had friends attending that session. But then, my mom told me I had a competition during that time. Begrudgingly, I switched to the third session, still comforted by the fact that I knew at least one person. Then, my mom announced that we’d be traveling to Taiwan, and I had to move again—this time to session one. I groaned. I argued. I sulked. But in the end, I went.

And thank goodness I did.

I’ve attended many summer programs before, but none that truly felt like home. None that made me cry on the last day. None where I found friendships that felt like they had been waiting for me all along.

That first session wasn’t just a program—it was a reunion of souls who had been scattered across the world, unknowingly waiting for the moment our red strings would finally pull us together. Out of hundreds of participants, I met two people who felt like missing pieces of my puzzle of life. The more we talked, debated, laughed, and existed in each other’s space, the more I realized I had been longing for them long before I knew their names. I had never clicked with anyone so effortlessly. Never been challenged so much, or understood so deeply, so immediately. Never looked at someone and thought: I want to know you.

The funny thing? We all came from different countries. If I hadn’t waited a year, if I hadn’t switched my sessions—twice—I would have never met them. That has to count as fate. It was only after I met these people when I realized how much I had missed them.

It’s been almost a year now, and we still talk every day, woven into each other’s routines like a quiet, steady heartbeat. So when life feels heavy, when I feel lost or discouraged, I remind myself: the universe has its reasons. It has more red strings waiting for me, more places where I will find shelter in the warmth of new friendships.

And I can’t wait to meet them.

Cheers,

emma