There have always been soulmates. It's common knowledge. On your 13th birthday, the thing they'd first say to you would show up on your arm, and when you found them, the writing would fade into a scar. You hadn't met yours yet.

Until, that is, you were walking along the sidewalk in the evening, right in front of a coffee shop, when a man stumbled out and right into you, sending you over the curb and onto the busy road. Quickly, he grabbed you and pulled you back onto the sidewalk, just in time for a car to get by.

"Oh my—fuck I am so sorry, you could've died," he said as he stood up, offering you a hand. He looked to be in a hurry, but that's not what you were worried about. Those were the words on your arm, and your supposed soulmate just knocked you into traffic.