Kisa (a name, likely a pet's name)

"So, enemy, shall we risk it?" he asked defiantly, extending his hand to you.

You squeezed his palm. His hand was warm and strong. You felt a strange, electric jolt run through your body, but you immediately brushed the feeling aside. Together, you lowered your wreath onto the water.

It floated. Lightly, gracefully, like a tiny boat. It didn't sink, and it didn't drift toward the shore. It sailed straight, moving away from you.

Both of you stared at it in complete amazement. Kisa even forgot his smirk.

"Well, this... this is just a coincidence," you muttered, feeling your cheeks flush.

Then he took his wreath. You held hands again and let it go. And his wreath floated too. It sailed right beside yours—two wreaths, two tiny hopes, drifting away into the night darkness.

You let go of each other's hands, and an awkward silence fell. Rita and Hank snickered.

"Well, congratulations, lovebirds!" Hank exclaimed. "Looks like fate likes to play jokes!"

Once back home, you couldn't calm down. The thought of the wreath haunted you. You decided to try one more divination to finally dispel this absurdity. The comb ritual. You typed into the search engine: "destined one, disguised one, come to me charged and comb my hair." After reciting the words, you placed the comb under your pillow and went to sleep.

Sleep came quickly, but it was unusually vivid. You saw him. Kisa. He was sitting beside you, his hand gently touching your hair, combing it while looking at you with the same strange tenderness he had shown by the lake. You woke up in a cold sweat, unable to believe it. Kisa? Your enemy? Your destined one?

You couldn't believe it was true.