1.

Shortly before Irene’s 17th birthday, her parents get divorced.

They’re a happy family, until one day when they’re suddenly not. It’s her mother who sits her down at the kitchen table after school one day, eyes red but voice calm as she delivers the news: “Your dad is leaving us.”

On the inside of Irene’s mother’s wrist, there is a blackened fingerprint. Etched into the skin like a brand, bold and black like a tattoo that will never fade. It looks painful, but when Irene was little and had a lot of questions, her mother insisted that there hadn’t been any physical pain, only emotional. Like the loss of a dear family member, followed by a lifetime of aching and longing. But no matter what, when Irene asked if she wished she could be with her soulmate instead, she would smile. Boop Irene on the nose and say, “Of course not, I got you and dad. And besides, I was so young when it happened.”

Irene’s father had never had a fingerprint on the inside of his wrist. Irene used to think it was weird, but some people are defective. Some people never find their soulmate, never even have one, much like some people lose theirs. It was weird, but Irene quite early on decided it was a good kind of weird, since it brought people together, much like it had brought her parents together. Because of that, her father could joke “your mom is my soulmate, she just doesn’t know it,” and gather them both in a big hug.

That was, until he had found his real soulmate.

For most, the fingerprint a takes form when you come of age. Some are early, some are late, but most people have a fingerprint on the inside of their wrist before they turn 25. After that, you can resign yourself to the idea that you’d never get a soulmate -- something her father had done. Found a woman he fell in love with, created a life with her. A house, car, a baby. Only for a fingerprint to take shape on the inside of his wrist at the age of 49.

He’s 51 now.

Later, Irene will find out that he had been scared. Scared that the smothering sense of longing he now felt would ruin the life he had. Knowing there was no way everyone involved could walk away from the situation unharmed. She will learn that he had pushed away, rejected the bond, but when his soulmate had tracked him down and showed up on their doorstep two years later, he couldn’t do it anymore.

It is said that the soulmate bond is the strongest thing you can feel, so Irene should be able to sympathize, but when she’s almost 17, sitting at that kitchen table and she finds out that her father’s soulmate is only four years older than her, she feels sick.

🍁

She thought there would be pain, or at least some kind of tingling, but one day it’s just there, catching her by surprise. It’s pink and slightly raised, and Irene immediately doesn’t like it. It stands out obscenely against her pale skin, like a rash or a hickey. An eyesore.

She covers it up, goes to school and tries to not think about it. It’s not possible, because her classmates talk about soulmates all the time. There are a handful of people in her class who already have found their soulmate, already have bonded with them, and the rest of them are even worse, throwing themselves on whoever has gotten a fingerprint overnight.

Even when she plugs her ears with music it’s not possible to simply not think about it. She’s heard the bond is the most intense when both individuals have gotten their fingerprints. Through TV shows, magazines and classes she has learned that the bond usually grows; starts out weaker but grows in strength with time and contact.

To Irene, it doesn’t feel very pleasant; a fluttering in the pit of her stomach, a nagging feeling like she forgot something at home, and like a craving for something she usually never likes.

She doesn’t know what that means, if that’s even how it’s supposed to be, but she’s determined to ignore it.

🍁

A week passes before her mother finds out. Irene is handing her the salt, the inside of her wrist bared and her mother lets out an intrigued hum.

“Oh my, your fingerprint appeared?” she says, and Irene winces on the inside. They haven’t talked about soulmates since her father found his.

Irene feels like it’s still too soon to talk about it, so all she does is nod.

“How exciting,” her mother says, a smile on her lips Irene wonders is real or fake. “Don’t you want to find out who it is?”

It costs money of course, but you can go to a soulmate agency and trace the fingerprint. The mere thought of it however makes Irene lose her appetite. It’s scary, so much that can go wrong. Once, there was a girl two grades above her who got matched to a incarcerated criminal. It was only a rumor of course, but even the low-lives and scumbags of the world have soulmates.

“I… There’s no rush,” she settles with.

They agree to go to the soulmate agency once Irene graduated so that she can focus on her studies.

Neither of them bring it up again.

🍁

Irene’s mother had traced her fingerprint when it first appeared. She had only been thirteen when her soulmate passed away, and so the fingerprint didn’t take shape until the moment he passed; that sad, blackened stain. She had covered it up the first couple of days, didn’t like the pity she was met with wherever she went, but then she went to the soulmate agency. Traced it to a 15 year old boy who had died from an unexpected heart defect. Went to his funeral many cities away, all on her own. Talked to his family, cried a lot and then never covered up the fingerprint again.

Irene can tell that her mother doesn’t want to be there already when they walk up to the soulmate agency, but she doesn’t say anything, so neither does Irene.

The man they scheduled an appointment with is a little too sold on the soulmate concept. He raves on about how Irene’s new life is about to begin, and how excited he is to be a part of her journey.

She exchanges many looks with her mother, who smiles a little less convincingly every time. The man’s enthusiasm overwhelms them both.

Scanning the fingerprint only takes a couple of seconds. Finding a match takes even less.

The self-proclaimed soulmate expert hums in thought, pushing his glasses further up his nose as he stares at the screen, one that frustratingly is facing away from them.

Irene’s heart starts racing like crazy. Her breath shortens, and she feels nauseated.

The man clears his throat, and then gives them a polite smile.

“Okay, it appears that your soulmate is still a minor. Now, as you probably already know, that means I can’t reveal their identity. I can however contact the parents and possibly arrange a meeting for you, if you’d like.”

Irene swallows. She’s afraid she’ll throw up if she opens , so she keeps it firmly shut and doesn’t say a thing. Not until her mother turns to her.

“Well?”

Irene struggles to speak.

“I’m- I’m not sure. I-- What do you mean when you say still a minor? Is it a little kid?”

She thinks of her father. Thinks of his soulmate that could be her sister. Fears that she’ll really throw up.

The man peers at the screen again, makes a face.

“I can’t answer that question. I’m afraid there isn’t much I can reveal without compromising the identity of the minor.”

“Ok, alright,” Irene’s mother says. “What can you reveal?”

“Well,” the man smiles, all teeth and sunshine. All bonding loving, soulmate worshipping. “It’s a girl. And you live in the same country.”

He laughs then, says something about being born in different countries happen more often than you’d think. Irene isn’t really listening, can’t hear him over the ringing in her ears.

They decide to not arrange a meeting; to wait for her to come of age. Irene’s mother mentions something about college, but Irene is definitely not listening this time.

She can’t remember the walk from the soulmate agency to their car. She’s not in the present until her mother speaks up.

“How do you feel?” she says.

Sick. Strange. Wrong.

“I don’t… understand. It’s… a girl?” she says.

She’s heard that soulmates fit like a puzzle. They complete each other, are total opposites but also everything they both need.

Irene hasn’t fantasized about her soulmate much. Growing up with parents who had chosen to be together out of pure love and not because a bond said they should, it shouldn't come as a surprise. And she knows same soulmates are a thing. But when she thought total opposites, she always imagined a guy.

“Are you…” her mother clears . “Interested in women?”

The question chills her veins. Sends her heart into a frenzy, and she shakes her head quickly.

“No!”

Her mother is quiet. The silence is suffocating.

“Well… I’m sure you know that having a soulmate can be…” she trails off. Starts anew.  “Some bonds are platonic. I’m sure it’ll be great, you’ll have a friend for life.”

If it’s meant as comfort, it doesn’t work.

🍁

Summer rolls around. She prepares for college; it’s in the neighboring city, only a three hour drive, so she doesn’t need to say a big goodbye to her friends. Her mother is a handful though, fuzzing and nagging but Irene lets her be. Feels guilty about leaving her behind, even though she’ll co