Hey, Soulmate!

A summertime premonition

Since the beginning of time, humanity has always been fascinated by the tales about an unbreakable destiny who bound people together—red strings that would always find each other, promises of love in a bridge full of padlocks or more simply, love at first sight. At Galar High there was a similar legend, but instead of love at first sight, it was love at first word. The youngest students, who dreamt about a film-like romance, whispered in the hallways about a certain rumor—when someone turned eighteen, right after midnight, some special words would appear written in their skin, like ink. Those were the first words their soulmate would say to them.

Something that was the most exciting story ever for the younger generation, worthy of being known to the letter, for the older students was no more than a fairytale created to please someone else's imagination. As years passed, people started forgetting the legends, or they just simply ignored them. Maybe it was the pessimistic attitude that the adults put on their minds, or the thought that, no matter the words, destiny would find its way to happen.

...

Summer was always accompanied by the strong winds that blew the leaves in the park. The sun illuminated a group of four teenagers that were chatting in some benches; some were laughing and some others, more on the introverted side, preferred to stay quiet and enjoy the company. One of them took out a gift-wrapped box, almost as big as his muscles, and gave it to the man sitting in front of him, who was holding his phone at the time.

"Happy birthday, Raihan," said the guy. "I brought this from my farm. I hope you like it."

The other guy, with skin like mahogany, received the gift and, without wasting a second, started to open it. On the inside there was a beautiful, white, handmade wool sweater. Inside the box there was also a piece of paper with a message written on it: "Happy birthday, Raihan. I know how much you liked the sheep of my farm, so I knitted this for you." Raihan smiled at the gift, putting it back inside the box to keep it safe and put everything by his side on the bench.

"Thanks, Milo," said Raihan. "I never thought you'd remember that!"

"How do you expect me to forget if you were literally rolling with my sheep?" Milo laughed as he remembered that day. "I'd never forget your flustered face when we found you."

Another voice made its way into the conversation. An elegant, feminine voice laughed gracefully. When the two men turned to see her, she crossed her legs as she tossed back her black hair with blue highlights. She put her hand on Raihan's shoulder, with a smile on her face. The corners of her lips shivered in an attempt to not laugh.

"He's right," she said. "It was surprising to see a guy like you, who loves taking pictures of himself, begging me to delete the pic I took of you."

"My reputation was at stake, Nessa, you know it." Raihan grunted.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say," Nessa replied. "Still, it was a whole different look, you know. You're always so cool, so... it was interesting to see."

Raihan opened his mouth to answer, but Nessa pressed her index finger against his lips. She knew he was going to try to talk his way out of the situation, so it was better if the conversation didn't drag on for too long. She turned to her purse to look for something on the inside—a small gift that she put on Raihan's lap.

"Happy eighteenth birthday, Raihan," Nessa said. "I hope you treasure this little gift I've got for you."

With no time to lose, Raihan ripped off the wrapping paper, only to see a beautifully framed photo. The memories of that day in the beach, where the two of them took a picture to commemorate the occasion made Raihan smile. As he put the photo alongside the sweater, he looked at Nessa with a warm expression of pure gratitude.