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Another uneventful and empty 2 years passed: yet the ring remained white. No matter how many hours you stayed up studying the ring, scowering all over the internet for some kind of answer or response to your questions, you couldn't find anything out. If black meant your soulmate was dead, what did white mean? It can't be a coincidence or broken, right? Like a mantra in your head, the mysterious lady's words still rang through your head - you were born to be happy, please never forget that. you're the chosen one - What could it all mean?
Sighing, you pushed yourself back from your desk, running your hands through your hair aggressively. "This is all bullshit.." Muttering, you stammered to your feet disgruntled, picking up your mug from the side and walking to the kitchen to get a refill of your 3 shot espresso. After securing your mug in your coffee machine, you wandered over to your window, looking beyond your balcony at the river. It was a rainy day: the clouds were shades of grey, the normally bright blue sky instead replaced with a dark cyan. Dewdrops laced your plant leaves that draped down the side of your balcony, your collection ranging from ivy to some slightly wilted lavendar. Sucking in a sharp breath, you turned your attention to your machine, taking the cup from it and bringing the scolding, black liquid to your lips whilst slowly maneuvering down your hall.
Once back at your desk, you clicked your neck before continuing your research. Surely, there must be something about ring malfunctioning out there. Glancing down at your ring, you sighed yet again. "What could you mean..."
Days and weeks passed, yet nothing. As time seemingly slowed down, you found yourself just wondering if it was better to just ignore the colouring: maybe you simply didn't have a soulmate, hence the colour. Walking down the bustling street, you let a breath out into the atmosphere, watching as the smoke floated through the air. Clutching your bag, you continued to loop through the crowds of people, moving your scarf up to cover your nose whenever it slipped too low.
Suddenly, someone hit the side of your shoulder almost inhumanely hard, causing you to drop your files out all along the street. Letting out a noise of disgust, you didnt even bother to look at the individual, you focused on picking up your work documents. You felt a hand brush against yours, and you started at the gloved hand as it quickly retracted after handing you a paper: a pink glow. A strong, burning fuschia colour burst from under the glove and just like that, the person was gone down the street and with the wintry air. You started down at your ring, watching the colour change from the burning pink back down to a white as they further walked away. There you stood as people brushed past you, holding paper close to your chest easily, staring down at where the person had ran off to in bewilderment. You hadn't even seen their face.
"God fucking dammit!" You yelled as soon as you entered your toasty and humble abode, dropping your bag to the floor and pulling st your hair. "I'mso stupid, fucking hell..."
30. Your ring hadn't turned pink within the last 3 years, not since you had seen the mysterious, gloved hand, belonging to your partner. For the last 3 years you had tried advertising over the internet incase anyone had any leads, yet the only information you could provide was the glove pattern and design. Of course, nothing ever came of these advertisements. 40. Your friends were all married with children and homes filled with laughter and love: you were envious. 50. Still blaming yourself for missing out on the love of your life, you tried to push them and the ring out of mind. You had locked your ring away in a jewellery box: out of sight, out of mind. It was best to try and forget about it. No more imagining and daydreaming about what they could look like or could be. 60. You had retired from your job and lived alone, only with a cat and dog for comfort. Life was lonely, you'd admit, but you had amazing nieces and nephews who would visit you. Maybe it wasn't all that bad without a soulmate... 70 rolled around and you wished you were dead. Yet, the woman's words from all those years ago still rang through your mind. "You were born to be happy, please don't forget that. You're the chosen one." 80. Your body was sore from old age, you're surprised you've even made it this far. Quite frankly, you were bored of life, you had grandkids you would visit. It was a shame you never had any of your own. Finally, 93. You knew your life was coming to a halt, your gut never lied. Yet you weren't scared or upset: you felt oddly comforted and at ease knowing you'd be elsewhere. However even after years, you hadn't seen your ring. During your last days, you unlocked that drawer and blew the dust from all the jewellery, and pulled the still flaring white ring from the bundles of chains and rings alike. "It's a shame I never found out what you meant, or who my soulmate was... Some things are best left unknown, eh?"
On your death bed, more like chair, you sucked in your last and a deep breath, gazing down at your ring. At least you got to go in the comfort of your own 4 walls. Yet as your sight disappeared and everything turned dark, you saw a pale shade of pink start to glow from your ring...
Just like that, you were met with complete darkness. That was until two heavy duty and wooden doors burst open and you were younger, about 20, your body wasn't in pain and you could move again, your sight better. In awe and confusion, you walked forwards and into the grand hall. Is this heaven?
"I've been awaiting your arrival, MC." A voice boomed from above, out of sight, and a bright, burning fuschia colour on your hand caught your attention. Your soulmate was here. Heavy footsteps came from the side stairwell of the hall, leading down from the upper level, coming in your direction. "Fear not, I also remember our early winter meeting a few years back."
