the one where you have a timer on your wrist that counts down to when you meet your soulmate.

There are gleaming numbers spread across her forearm – a timer, everyone has that. Soulmates, not everyone has that. Taeyeon was born with that luxury – numbers ticking down along with the seconds she passed – when her friends got nothing embedded on their skins.

The timer itches under her thick sleeve and she fights the urge to sink her nails on it – soulmates are just mere distractions, she thinks grumpily as she rushes down the stairs of her building. Her feet lands on the bottom step of the stair and –

She hits the pavement. Well, her bottom does.

There is another woman draped on top of her – one with lovely features and dazzling eyes, even when they are watery from pain. The woman’s eyes narrow dangerously, scanning her face with her laser like stare and moves to her forearm and she stills.

Taeyeon follows her gaze and – oh, oh. Mouth gaping and eyes widen in an almost comical way, she scrambled away from her (still on her bottom) and the lovely woman laughs, lifting her arm to show a neat row of zeroes (pink zeroes) decorating her forearm. Her laugh grows at the expression on her face, “I guess this calls for an introduction, right?” And when she doesn’t stop gaping at her, her expression turns sly – faux innocence with a hint of sensual gleam.

“My name is Tiffany Hwang. 26, designer and, apparently, your soulmate. It’s nice to meet you.”