Fate: A Revolution

That night, when he slept on her palm, he became her fate.
Next morning he was no more. She searched for him in the cupboard, behind the curtains, within her entangled hair, inside the pages of her book, everywhere. She finally found him on her palm. A tiny line originating from where her life line did. Tiny, yes. But there. Unmistakably.

He used to come to meet her every night. There was no definite route or channel from where he came. But he came, nevertheless. Unfailingly. Initially she used to avoid him. But when he started telling her a story one day and did not finish it, she became curious. She waited for him the next night, and then the one after that. Curiosity becomes a heavy load. She started waiting for him every night.
Once, while she was on a beach, he came beneath the rolling waves and crashed right in front of her and continued his story he had left unfinished last night. She interrupted him suddenly

"Your story does not make any sense" she said.

"I never said it is true"

"But even a lie should have a reason"

"Reason, you must understand, is itself a lie. Perhaps it is the most perfect lie" he replied, leaving her confused as he lay on her palm, awake, staring at the starless sky; and she, at the meaningless night. He did not continue his story that night. When he was about to leave she said " I wish you didn't have to go. I wish we never had to depart. I wish we could live together, forever, inspite of all the world." A faint smile had crossed his face, then.

Now, when she looked at her palm she realized he was only fulfilling her wish. In a way she could never imagine. In a way she could never begin to understand. And even as she continued to live her own life, a part of him was living inside her too. And growing. Because a week later she found that her own life line was fading and the new line of fate had grown much longer. But it was not replacing the other. Indeed, it did not even curve but was headed straight as an arrow - upward.

She was melting into him. Gradually. Dissolving into a parallel life which was really her fate. Which was also him. The two lives kept merging into each other; overlapping, from the ordinary and mundane to the extraordinary and insane. So much so that she was now talking and acting like him. Even thinking like him. For now she did not make any sense either. Her whole life, the whole universe ceased to make any sense to her. In fact the only thing that made any sense now, if at all, was his story.

The Story.

"But when does your story end" she heard herself say, sometime in the past.

"My story does not end" he replied.

"Why?"

"Beacuse I am afraid"

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid of losing you"

"That is ridiculous, I am not even in the story"

"Yes you are", he said, "You will find out soon"

Later at night she noticed her life line had faded out completely. And the new line had touched her line of heart.
The transformation was complete

That night, when she slept on his palm, she became his fate.
Next morning she was no more. He searched for her in the cupboard, behind the curtains, within his entangled hair, inside the pages of his book, everywhere. He finally found her on his palm. A tiny line originating ....