Soulmate I KenmaxOC

The doctor exhales a measured breath, as the paper in his hands rustles between his fingers. The scent of antiseptic lingers in the air, sterile and cold, yet beneath it, there is something heavier-an unspoken weight settling between them.

Fumiko sits across from him, back straight, hands curled against the fabric of her skirt. A quiet storm brews in her chest, but her face remains unreadable, a skill honed from years of practice.

Finally, he speaks.

"You have been diagnosed with Soulmate Asymptomatic Disorder."

The words fall into the space between them, clinical yet decisive, like the finality of a judge's gavel.

Fumiko blinks. The meaning doesn't register at first; it hovers just out of reach, elusive and unreal. She swallows, her voice barely above a whisper.

"...What does that mean?"

The doctor's eyes soften, though his face remains composed. "It means," he says carefully as if trying to cushion the impact, "that your body does not exhibit any of the usual symptoms necessary to detect a soulmate. No warmth. No pulses of recognition. No telltale pull."

A pause.

Her heartbeat remains steady. Unchanged. Unmoved.

"So I..." She hesitates, her fingers tightening in her lap. "I won't ever know?"

The doctor exhales again, quieter this time. There is a flicker of regret in his eyes-perhaps not for her condition, but for the loneliness it implies. "I'm sorry."

Fumiko looks down. The room is too white. Too quiet. The knowledge settles over her like snowfall, silent but suffocating.

She had never felt anything before. She had never experienced the thrill of a connection sparking to life, the certainty that somewhere, someone was waiting for her.

And now, she never would....