"One last question before we end…"
She crossed her legs, leaned forward slightly.
"To you… what exactly is a soulmate?"
He paused.
Not because he didn't know the answer
but because the answer carried the weight of years…
and eight hearts intertwined with his.
A soft, almost nostalgic laugh escaped him.
He lowered his gaze, eyes warming as memories flooded back,
the café door chiming softly as he walked in,
the trembling breath of a boy in a crowded subway,
a rehearsal room humming with music,
the scent of rain, ink, and summer air,
the eyes that met his… and changed everything.
When he finally looked at the camera, he wasn't smiling for the audience.
He was smiling for them.
"A soulmate," he began, voice low and steady,
"is someone your soul recognizes before your mind understands why."
A flicker of light reflected in his eyes – golden, familiar, warm.
"To some people, soulmates are one person."
He tilted his head slightly, the ghost of a fond grin rising.
"But life… had other plans for me."
He exhaled softly, a breath that carried years of pain, healing, and love.
"I found eight."
The interviewer blinked, stunned, almost amused.
"Eight? You're serious?"
He chuckled again, the sound fragile with tenderness.
"We met everywhere fate allowed… a college hallway, a quiet café, a stage rehearsal, a panic-filled subway. Some of us were broken. Some were running. Some were waiting without knowing."
His smile softened, turning private.
A memory grazed his thoughts, someone's trembling hand, another's shy grin, someone's warm laughter, another's tear-streaked apology.
"But somehow," he whispered,
"every moment pulled us closer until we couldn't ignore it anymore."
The interviewer placed her pen down, clearly moved.
"And… do you regret anything?"
He looked at the lens straight into the heart of whoever would one day watch this.
His voice dropped, warm and certain:
"Not a single thread."