HAVE you ever met someone and felt, without explanation, that your paths were always meant to cross—as if the stars themselves had collided to bring your constellations together? 

Some connections feel inevitable, as if the universe gently nudged them into your lives. Taylor Swift’s 2020 song Invisible String echoes this idea, drawing inspiration from East Asian folklore about a “red thread of fate” that ties together those meant to meet. It’s a reminder that certain bonds—romantic or not—are meant to shape who we are.

In Korea, this concept is called inyeon—a word that captures the subtle, often unseen forces that guide people towards each other. These connections take time to fully reveal their meaning. Yet, when they do, it feels as though every choice, every coincidence, and every twist of fate was quietly preparing its way. 

In the Philippines, we call it tadhana—the quiet belief that some meetings are written long before we understand their meaning. Whether you believe in the red thread of fate, inyeon, or tadhana, we collectively hold on to one idea: some connections are simply meant to happen. 

Yet connections do not always have to be romantic. Fate is not limited to romance alone; it can guide friendships, mentorships, or even brief encounters that leave a lasting mark. Sometimes, the people we’re meant to meet challenge us, inspire us, or help us see ourselves more clearly. 

There are people who come into our lives in ways you can’t explain how or why you were meant to meet. They offer comfort when we feel broken, patience when we struggle to understand ourselves, or guidance when we’re lost. 

Sometimes, simply being seen by the right person is enough to begin mending wounds we didn’t even realize we carried. 

I’ve known the sting of being unseen, and I’ve felt the quiet miracle of being truly seen. It is this contrast that makes fate feel undeniably real. Having someone like this feels like the universe’s apology for all the pain it has sent my way. Despite the hardships and heartache, it gives something we never thought we deserved—something we are endlessly blessed to hold. 

Even when someone transforms our lives for the better, it doesn’t mean love, trust, or hope come easily—they require courage. They cost us something. If there’s one thing I’ve learned along the way, it’s that hope isn’t free. It asks something of us: to be vulnerable, to trust, and to believe that the people we love won’t disappear the moment we finally feel safe.  

In a world where everything feels fleeting, perhaps we all need someone who becomes a steady presence in our lives. Someone who listens, who holds space, and whose care feels intentional—as if they’re holding not just your hand, but your heart in their palms, delicate and entrusted to their care. 

When my life was at its most fragile, this connection reminded me that some encounters are not random. Sometimes, the universe truly aligns to bring the right people into our lives. Take a moment to consider the people who have quietly held your heart in their hands. How have they shaped the way you trust, hope, and heal? 

Choosing to open ourselves to connection, even after heartbreak, even when it feels impossible, is how we allow life—and fate—to reshape us. It is in those quiet, vulnerable moments that we are seen, that we heal, and that we begin to understand the extraordinary power of being truly held, of feeling the threads of fate at work — like constellations quietly guiding us together.