Page 107 of Something Like Fate

How must Mom have felt? Knowing she was defying her family’s beliefs and lying to them for years. I wonder if she ever felt alone like I do right now, or worse, regretted her decision.

“I beg to differ. I know you and your aunts are really hung up on fate. But your mom and I fell in love not because of fate, but because we simply liked each other. Loved each other enough to put in the hard work. That’s romance to me.”

I can’t wrap my head around it. Mom went against the grain. She fell in love with someone who wasn’t her soulmate.

Maybe we do have something in common after all.

42

Being back home after so many months abroad feels like stepping into an alternate dimension. I can still smell the garlicky aroma wafting from trattorias, hear the echoes of bustling markets, smell the fresh air of the Alps.

Home is different too. The living room now has decorative throw pillows. Cute little tea towels and potted plants have replaced Dad’s Marvel figures in the kitchen. All Scheana’s doing.

I finally meet her the day after I get back. She looks nothing like a scientist, not that scientists need to have a particular look. If I had to guess her occupation based on appearance alone, I’d assume she’s a children’s librarian or schoolteacher, with her bright-Grinch-green dress and jingly, light-up mini-Christmas-light necklace.

She’s also extroverted, if her massive hug tells anything. “I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you in the flesh. Though I feel like I already know you. Your dad doesn’t shut up about you,” she squeals into my ear.

“Honestly, same. Dad says you write romance novels,” I say.

She lights up immediately and we fall into a half-hour talk about her top ten romance book starter recommendations, her author friend’s book that’s been adapted on Amazon Prime, and how newer rom-coms just don’t hit the same way. I could probably talk to her for hours about Hugh Grant.

I can’t help but smile as Dad sneaks up behind her, placing his hand around her waist. It’s strange to see him this way, smitten andstarry-eyed, after all these years of him just being, well, my dad. But she’s exactly the kind of person he needs. Someone to pull him out of his shell, force him out of the house. She also isn’t afraid to poke fun at his corny humor without being too harsh. Most of all, I’m grateful Dad has someone to watch true crime with and who makes him so happy.

Dad and Scheana leave on Christmas Eve, so I head to Ellen’s. She lives in the brownstone that used to belong to my grandparents—the house my mom grew up in. Ellen goes all out with the festivities to make up for lost time. Christmas in the Zhao family is a relatively new tradition. My grandparents didn’t celebrate it until the girls were old enough to realize that other kids got visits from Santa. Ellen has festive headbands for all, reindeer antlers and little snowmen on springs. The house is an explosion of multicolored lights coiled around every banister and taped to each window. She even has two trees, both draped in sheets of silver tinsel.

Following Christmas Eve tradition, Hank has the karaoke machine out and everyone is fighting for a turn on the mic. This year is a little more chaotic than usual, with Ellen juggling five-month-old baby Rosie and shuffling after Maisey. Apparently, her newest thing is running full-steam around the house with her eyes shut. And this year, Ellen invited our extended family.

There’s my sassy great-aunt, who’s eighty-seven and doing shots of eggnog and Baileys with Hank in the kitchen. Then there are my two second cousins and their families, both of whom are in their forties and happily married to their soulmates, at least I think they are. The moment they start peppering me with questions about my vision and Caleb, it becomes clear they’ve come specifically to celebrate me finding The One. I suppose this is my fault for not telling Ellen and Mei that things didn’t work out.

I provide quite a few half-hearted, noncommittal responses over the Christmas music blasting from the fireplace TV channel until it all gets to be too much.It’s time to tell them.

I usher Mei and Ellen into Maisey’s pink bedroom for some privacy. It’s a strange place to have a serious family discussion; Mei and I are squished together on Maisey’s polka-dot trundle bed among a sea of stuffed animals, while Ellen paces around the room, rocking a sleeping Rosie, expertly evading all the toys on the fluffy rug. We’ve insisted she sit down in the nursing chair by the window, but she’s “feeling too Christmasy” to relax.

“What’s up? You’re not engaged already, are you?” Mei asks.

“I’m not engaged,” I assure her, though what I’m about to say is equally outlandish. “It doesn’t have anything to do with me. Well, technically it does. But—”

Ellen raises a brow at Mei. “Does this have to do with your vision?”

Mei gives her a warning look and shakes her head, like I wasn’t supposed to know.

“Vision? What vision?” I ask.

Mei waves my words away like pesky flies. “Oh, it’s really nothing, sweetheart.”

I hold firm. “You’re keeping something from me.”

Mei sighs. “Fine. When you were in Italy, I had a vision about you. It’s hard to explain, but you were in a forest. A dense forest that was closing in. You were panicking, trying to decide where to go.”

I swallow. “That sounds intense.”

“It was. There were two options. One lit pathway that felt familiar, safe. And the other path was dark, twisty, but felt exciting.”

“Which path did I choose?”

Mei’s eyes dart to the floor. “Um ... the forest swallowed you before you could decide. That’s the real reason I came to Italy. I knew you needed support. I called Ellen immediately and booked my ticket. Then, of course, your dad found out I was going and had to tag along.”

“Wow” is all I can say. I think about what the rest of the trip would have been like if Dad and Mei hadn’t shown up. While I might have handled everything alone, I wouldn’t have done it well. Having them there meant everything to me.

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