The One

The real soulmate?

Tom

"Oh! You guys should totally do it," Samara urged, with a wide grin on her face and a devilish spark in her eyes. "Why? I've found my soulmate," Sally said, entwining her fingers with Tom's.

Tom leaned across the dining table and reached for his beloved smirnoff with his other hand. He spilled the last few drops in his glass.

"Anyone want a top up?" he asked. After a couple of hearty yeses from his other three guests, he pulled his hand away from his fiancée's and moved toward the kitchen. "But you want to be sure, dont you?" Samara pushed once again. "I mean you guys are so good together, but you never know who else is out there...."

Tom returned from the kitchen with the new bottle, the fifth of the evening already, and went to pour Samara a glass. Lou placed his hand over his wife's glass.

"She's fine, bro. Mrs. Loose Lips here has enough for the night."
"Spoilsport," Samara sniped at him and pulled a face. She turned back to Sally. "All I want to say is that if you do the test, you'll get the reassurance that you truly found the one before walking down the aisle."
"You make it sound so hopeless romantic-ally," Lou said and rolled his eyes. "But its not your decision to make for them, is it? If they ain't broke, dont try and fix them."
"The test worked for us, though, didnt it? I mean, we knew anyway, but it gave us that added bit of security, that we would always be destined to be with each other," Samara added as a protest. "Can we not turn into one of those smug, sanctimonious couples, please?"
"You dont need to be in a relationship to be smug and sanctimonious, sweetheart."

Now it was Samara's turn to roll her eyes. She swigged the remains of the drink in her glass under her husband's watchful eye. Tom rested his head on his fiancée's shoulder and glanced out of the window of the pub.

They lived in a converted factory apartment, and the windows were floor to ceiling. Means no escape from seeing the busy street outside, and what his life used to look like. Not so long ago, his perfect evening would've been made up of going to many different bars around London's hip before falling asleep in a night bus and waking up many stops away from where he lived.

But his priorities changed, almost overnight when he met Sally. Sally was in her early thirties, five years his senior, and he knew from their first conversation about old Hitchcock films that there was something a bit different about her. In their early days together, she opened his mind to new travel destinations, new foods, new artists and music, and Tom began to see the world in a colorful, fresh, new perspective.

When he looked at her with her chestnut-caramel-alike brown pixie-cropped hair and gray eyes, he hoped that some day their children would adopt their mother's good looks and open-mindedness. What Tom offered Sally in return? He couldnt be sure, but when he proposed to her on their three-year anniversary in a restaurant, she cried so hard he wasnt sure if she accepted or declined.

"If you two are the best example of what being Matched is about, I'm quite happy Sal and I can remain how we are," Tom teased, and slipped his glasses down to his nose to rub his tired eyes. He reached for the half emptied smirnoff bottle and took several chugs.

"We've been together for almost four years now, and now she's promised to love, honor and obey me, I'm hundred percent sure we are made for each other."
"Hold on, 'obey'?" Samara interrupted with an raised eyebrow. "You obey me," Lou added confidently. "Everyone knows I wear the trousers in our relationship."
"You do wear them, honey, but ask yourself who buys them for you."
"What if we're not, though?" Sally asked suddenly. "What if we're not made for each other?"

Until then, Tom listened with a little amusement as Samara attempted to talk them into Match your DNA testing. It hadn't been the first time she started that topic in the two years they'd known each other, and Tom was sure it wouldnt be the last time either. Sally's friend could be both belligerent and persuasive at the same time. But Tom was surprised to hear Sally say this. She was always very anti-Match-your-DNA, like he was.

"Excuse me?" he said. "You know that I love you with the everything of my heart and that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but... what if we aren't really soulmates?"
Tom frowned at this. "Where's this coming from?"
"Oh, nowhere, dont worry, I'm not having second thoughts or anything." Sally gave him a reassuring pat on his arm. "It's just that... I was wondering are we happy to just think we're made for each other or do we want to know for sure?"
"Babe, you're drunk." Tom dismissed her and scratched his stubble. "I'm perfectly happy knowing what I know, and I dont need some test telling me that."
"I read something online that said Match your DNA is going to break up around three million marriages. But within a generation, divorce will barely be a thing anymore," Samara said. "That's because marriage won't be a 'thing' either anymore," Lou retorted. "It'll become an outdated institution, you mark my words. You won't need to prove anything to anyone because everyone will be partnered with who they are destined to be with."
"You're really not helping me here," Tom said, and dugs his fork into the crumbly remains of Sally's raspberry cheesecake. "Sorry, bro, you're right. Let's have a toast. To the certainty of chance."
"To the certainty of chance," the others replied and clinked their glasses against Tom's. All but Sally's reached his.