“You’re flustered.”

“Are you naming what I’m feeling or just describing how I looked?”

“Oh, you still look like a tomato.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry.”

“But would you?”

“Seriously?”

Jude laughs.

“Only if you’re actually mine.”

“Of course. I’m just messing with you, B.”

For the record, though, I’m not opposed to the idea.

“Nervousness?”

“That’s part of it.”

“Butterflies?”

“I wouldn’t describe it that way. It’s more of, like, when you’re high up on a rope car and you look over the edge.”

“Hm. And you get self-conscious.”

“Yeah, but that’s normal, right? I mean, when you’re with strangers.”

“You have sauce on the corner of your mouth —”

Shit. I reach for the table napkin and dap both corners lest I miss a spot.

“— and I’m pretty sure you two are farther from being strangers than we are.”

“Just by a few hours.”

He takes his last bite of aprikosenkuchen, then sets his utensils down. “Listen. I know you have no indicators, but —”

“Hold up. Who told you that?” That is for me to say; not even Jo and Niel mentioned that whenever they came with me.

“You don’t know?” Jude busies himself, stacking our plates on top of each other while I put the glasses and silverware on the side.

“Just spit it out, Jude.”

“Damn.” He rises and takes with the tray of used tableware, and I go with him to the return counter. “Well, you gained a bit of traction in the south.”

“Huh. I could’ve used some help from those quidnuncs.”

“Oh, that’s exactly what they’re doing.”

“Yeah, right.”

“But maybe you don’t need it anymore,” he suggests as he opens the door for me.

“What do you mean?”

“It seems … you’ve found your one already.”

“You mean … you?”

Jude freezes a few steps from the exit. He opens his mouth, but no words come out, so he tries again. “Wh— No. No, I mean —” He blinks, blue eyes scanning floor and horizon for answers.

“Jude?”

“Okay. I’m, like, a week from leaving. I, I was thinking I could maybe … ask to be yours?”

“What?”

“Theorists think you having nothing might mean you can choose anyone. Anyone at all.”

“I — Shit!”

A little girl with dark blonde hair pushes herself up from the floor.

“Oh, sorry, sweetie. Are you okay?”

“Here.” A necklace swings from Jude’s forefinger, pocket watch dangling in front of the kid’s face. “Are you bleeding anywhere?”

“Nnnope, I’m good.”

She grabs the accessory and sniffles as I wipe her face with the extra wipes I got from the restaurant earlier. Scratches line her forearms, and the knees of her jeans have been abraded.

“I’m really sorry. We’ll find you a replacement for your nice pants, okay?”

“It’s fine, angel,” she pats my shoulder with her small hand. “I have lots of this.”

“What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Amaria.”

“What are you doing, running alone out here?” Jude asks her.

“My mentor asked me to look for her friend.”

Amaria blinks at me, as if assessing if I fit the description of that friend, then looks up. Her round eyes narrow until only slits of green peer at Jude, who frown-smiles at her cute, judgy face.

“Nope,” she mumbles to herself. “I should go now. Bye!”

Jude gives her a warm smile and a wave, and she runs off.

“Be careful!” I call out. “I think we should help her.”

“She doesn’t need help. You don’t even know who she’s looking for.”

“We could’ve asked.”

“Even if she gave a name, they can have namesakes or look-alikes.”

Well, he’s not wrong.

“Besides, you haven’t even started your interrogation.”

“Okay. First question: What made them think I’m free to choose? And what makes you think I’d choose you?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We have time.”

“Where do you want to spend it?”

God, where do I even start? There’s this restaurant in a cave past the hill several block from here. A little further is a treehouse with the best view and the worst food. The glass mansion is much closer, but the meals are goddy heavy there and, thanks to the “tips” Paula gave Jude, I don’t even have space for dessert.

I shrug. “Ball’s in your court.”

~

Jude’s apartment is a few blocks away from the restaurant. Not the one he works in; the second one, where he has dinner with locals after spending the day with foreigners. The building itself is taller, with less concrete and more glass, less wood and more stone. It’s much like him: towering, transparent, trusting.

Like ours, their main building branches into three residential wings, two of which each have a library and a café in front. These two complement the central tower, like arms to a body welcoming people from the roundabout. Instead of a statue around which vehicles pass, they have a fountain shaped like a flower with three petals with golden tenches in them.

We never enter, never even walk towards the entrance. Instead, Jude follows one of the two lines of trees arching over the gray-pebbled pathway until he finds a gap wide enough for a bus. He opens a black iron gate and as I close it behind him, I find a mirror image of it across the two-way street. That one seemed to lead to a garden; this one led us to a lawn about 130 cubits wide and God knows how long. With my back to the building, it’s all forest-framed grass as far as the eye could see. The grass is unlike anything I’d seen before. It’s too … green. As soft as thick moss and as consistent as a plain wallpaper.

I have not seen a garden in this world that isn’t beautiful, but none of them had been as astonishing as this, this empty yard. It looks perfect in an almost unnatural way. With the sun past the meridian, anyone with a functional brain can tell that it will set right at the center.

To my left is the building’s left arm, the side with people’s rooms. The third wing lies about 50 cubits ahead; I imagine the farthest room has the best view of the meadows. The reflective side of their one-way windows reminded me just how short I was compared to the locals; my head only reached the ear of the shortest girl walking with us. She, like a dozen others, carried a black bag with metal sticks sticking out.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

To my right was a thick line of trees blocked by a lush green hedge.

Do you not see the privet? Neil once asked the first time I suggested taking a shortcut from a floating restaurant to our apartment. There’s a reason for that.

What happened to ‘taking the path less trodden’? I quoted his soulmate. It was the first time Jo suggested I stop visiting the exact same places every week.

Jo put her arm around my shoulder and pulled me like she does when she’s about to give someone a noogie. You know that’s not what I meant, smartass.

I know.

I also know you’ll get past that hedge someday, she added quietly as her man hailed a jeep.

And you’re going to stop me.

No, I’ll make sure he stays out of your way.

“Bea,” Jude calls from between the hedge and the metal fence, “this way.”

I double back and slip between the fences into a different world — a much younger one.

I never imagined that behind a living fence lay a row of dead grass no taller than a sparrow, as though their larger companions have leeched the life out of them before they could grow any flowers. Around us are greenish columns of young pine trees, interspersed with redbuds and gray rocks.

On top of one lies a fluffy orange cat with black spots and a short tail. Their yellow eyes looked as curious as I was about them.

“H-hi … cat.”

Cat that is four times the size of a normal cat.

“Hello there, lynx!” Jude greets them as he walks around the log towards the oversized feline. He offers his palm out, and Lynx lifts their chin for a scratch. “Still recognize me, bud?”

Lynx purrs.

I follow Jude and tug at his sleeve, trying to ignore the hummingbird in my chest.

“We’ll be at the lake.” He gives Lynx a final pat on the head before heading to the trail. “It’s okay,” he reassures me, taking my hand as we follow a trail of trampled grass. “He’s just big, but they’re all friendly.”

“‘They’ like plural?”

He nods. “Why does it seem like you’ve never seen a lynx before?”

“Because I haven’t.”

“Really?” Jude looks at me, bewildered.

A bird whistles a descending note as if also disappointed.

“Not even on your way to the diner?”

“Never.”

“Didn’t you pass the shortcut?” He lifts my hand, signaling me to watch my step.

The deeper we go, the more redbuds and rocks there are, the fewer leaves the trees have, and the grayer the greens are.

There’s a reason for that, Niel reminds me sternly in my head.

“Paula loves that path because of the caracals.”

“And what makes you love this one?”

The farther we go, the less life there is. I suppose people like Jude feel a sense of kinship with this trail.

“Look ahead.”

Ahead rests a mountain in the shape of a lady curled up in a fetal position, drawn in charcoal on a sky blue canvas. Ahead sits five islands on a frozen lake God knows how wide. Ahead sleeps a lone wolf atop a boulder on the nearest island, a few white birds watching over them. Ahead is a paradise for people who love nature but despise color.

“That is something off a painting.”

“Art imitates life.”

“What do artists do?”

Jude shrugs and takes a seat on the nearest slab of rock. “You tell me.”

“Haven’t figured it out yet.” I sit with him. “You have something to tell me.”

He nods and sticks his finger into the snow, curving down then upward into what should have been U but stretched into an asymmetrical V. He adds a short line near the finial, like a cane holding the symbol upright on its invisible line. To its right, he draws two parallel horizontal lines with three diamonds in the middle, forming a forward arrow.

“Look familiar?”

“Of course. It’s southeastern.”

He nods. “Tatlong pa.”

It’s tat-long, I want to tell him, not tattle-long. But all that comes out is “Not bad.”

He shrugs it off. “Past, passion, and partner,” Jude explains. “All theorists agree that this world is more than a waiting-and-training area Ramon makes it out to be; they believe we had a life before this.”

But what life? The one where we were separated, like in the play?

“Some theorists think our passion is what we used to do in that life. Others, that it’s what we should do on Earth. But the greatest dispute is in partners — in whether or not they’ll be with us or against us during our mission.”

“Oh, please. If we had anything to seriously fight about, why is no one even arguing here?”

“If I can contact you from Earth, I’ll let you know as soon as I get there. Now. What we do know is that everyone has a clue about their soulmates, and it’s not always good.”

“How is it not good? It’s reassuring.”

“Some are in, erm, terrible state until they find their partners.”

“Right.” Like Yuu and Aya.

“So, on the flipside —”

“You’re about to say soulmates bring bad things to or out of other people.”

“No, not exactly. I was going to say that while some have curses to be lifted, others are waiting for someone to take their gift away. Whatever the indicator, it vanishes as soon as they meet their soulmate. And you …”

I have nothing.

“You have nothing to lose.”

“Except my existence.”

“Something we have in common.”

“Unfortunately.”

“But there’s hope. Benedict, Dwynwen, and John each have two unpaired souls —opposites; one cursed, one gifted — who arrived on the exact same day and none of them could be paired with each other.”

“‘Benedict, Dwynwen, and John.’ Are they theorists?”

“What? No! They’re patrons of siblings, lovers, and friends.”

You sure this is a guy you’re going to marry?

Never heard of twins?

“Right. Right, of course. And, and those six souls … one of them is you?”

He puts his palm out like there it is.

“Not sure if you’ve met the others, but all of us know about you, probably.”

“All because some theorist heard about me and said, ‘she could be your way out.’”

“It’s been done, you know. Choosing partners.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, my …” Jude moistens his lips and looks away. There’s an undeniable glint in his eyes that, according to Rafael, has no place here. When he turns back around, he wears a look that I had only ever seen in performances.

“You don’t have to talk about it.”

“No. You have to know.” Jude sighs and picks up a stone to busy his shaky hands. “The same thing might have happened to you.”

“Alright,” I brace myself. “I’m all ears.”

“I’ve met my soulmate. Danny. He only had four fingers on his right hand, and I designed him a pinky.” Jude smiles at the memory, then glowers at the next. “Then some bitch scrawls someone else’s name on his body, and the next thing I know, he’s not mine anymore.”

“What the hell?”

“It’s true.”

“How is that even possible?”

“You can ask Rafael. Or Dwynwen if you find her.”

“But I thought …”

“Me too. It happened about a dozen days ago. Honestly, if someone told me the same story, I wouldn’t have believed it either. But then …” Jude sniffles. When he catches me staring, he waves a hand dismissively. “It’s in the past. Dan doesn’t even remember me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Ahh, don’t be.” Jude clicks his tongue and looks at me sideways. “It’s not your fault. Just … be as determined to keep your soulmate once you find ‘em, yeah?”

I mean to say yeah, of course but a hug does too, right?

“Come on, now. Don’t be sweet to me or I might grieve you too.”

“You got a pen?” I ask as I pull away, quietly wishing he doesn’t but also hoping the words makes him feel better. “I’d write my name on your hand right now.”

“I’m well aware you have a different hand you’d rather write on.” He smirks, but that didn’t sound much like teasing.

“There something else you want to say?” I force an awkward laugh, willing the old Jude back.

He nods. Gone is the façade of the chill dude with an existential crisis. “If you can, save her. She hasn’t met her soulmate, but she deserves to live.”

“If you’re sure that works —”

“I’m not sure it works for everyone.”

“— why haven’t you brought it up with her?”

He stares at the sky, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “It’s … complicated.”

“All that and you’re not gonna tell me the whole thing?”

“It’s a long story. Maybe I can tell you next time when I don't have to steal you in the middle of your date."

"Hey, we weren't —"

"I'm kidding! But we do need to go back.”

“Right.”

He gets up first, then offers a hand to help me up.

"So, is there another path we can take? I'd love one that didn't have giant animals with fangs. Thank you."

He laughs and leads the way by the lake, past a cottage, through a gap between a hedge and a fence, and to a walkway that leads back to the restaurant where Paula is supposed to be waiting.

~

I shake my head and thank her before walking out. As I make my way past the buffet hall, I spot Jude already flirting with someone else. I try to ignore the sting of jealousy that hits me and wait for the person to go to the restroom before approaching Jude.

“What are you doing?” I confront him, trying to keep my voice level.

Jude raises an eyebrow in response. “What does it look like?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “You know what I mean. Is this how you treat your soulmate? By flirting with other people?”

Jude sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Bea, I'm not breaking any laws. Besides, I think I deserve to have a little fun before I get obliterated out of existence."

I can feel my frustration boiling over, but I try to keep calm. “You can’t just use people like that. What if your soulmate is out there, looking for you?”

Jude just smirks in response. “Good luck to them.”

“You sound just like her.”

“Except Paula can be saved and Jude can’t.”

I feel a pang of sympathy for him, realizing the weight of the burden he's carrying and the burden he asked me to take off Paula. Before I can say anything else, the other guy comes back, and I make my way out of the buffet hall.

My feet should be flying, a blur of movement towards the cool night air beyond those heavy velvet curtains. Instead, I'm a snail, dragging myself along the edge of the room, each step a monumental effort. I want to melt into the shadows, vanish into thin air.

Please don't see me, please don't see me, I chant silently, but of course, he does. His voice cuts through the din of the banquet, a low rumble that makes me flinch.

I slow, a reluctant acknowledgement of his presence. Stopping altogether feels like defeat, but I can't bring myself to ignore him.

The man reaches me with a curious expression on his face.

"Hey, I don't think we've met before. I'm Rafael," he says, extending his hand.

I hesitated for a moment before shaking his hand and introducing myself. "I'm Bea," I replied, trying to hide the unease in my voice.

Rafael seemed to pick up on my discomfort and leaned in a little closer. "Is everything okay?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

I took a deep breath before speaking. "I just wanted to warn you about Jude," I said, my voice low. "He can be, um..."

Rafael's expression hardened as he nodded in understanding. "Yeah, Danny already warned me," he said, perhaps referring to another friend who was with him earlier. "But to be honest, I'm not too worried. I'm just enjoying the spark I have with him."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by his nonchalance. "You're not afraid he'll hurt you?" I asked, genuinely curious.

Rafael smiled, his eyes twinkling. "I can handle myself," he said confidently. "Plus, sometimes you just have to take a risk and see where it leads you."

I couldn't help but admire his bravery, even if I didn't agree with his decision. "Well, just be careful," I warned him, hoping he would take my advice.

"I will," Rafael promised, giving me a small smile before walking away.

As I watched him disappear into the crowd, I couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. But for now, all I could do was hope that Rafael knew what he was getting into.

I smile weakly at him, feeling a sense of relief that at least he knows what he's getting into. "Fingers crossed for that spark," I say before turning and walking away.

As I make my way out of the building, I can't help but feel guilty for not being able to help Jude more. I resolve to keep looking for his soulmate, hoping that I can find them before it's too late.

Fingers crossed for that spark.