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Social constructs: something created by society and can change between generations. Marriage, currency, government, gender... they're all social constructs. When a generation stops accepting them as true, they all fall apart, like a Jenga block. Take away the meaning of money and the whole construct falls apart.

If people stopped accepting their Fated People as gospel, then it all might just fall apart. I've only been in university for six months, but we've already had this sociological debate five times in lectures. It's enough to know that the people who believe it's a bunch of bull have not met their Fated One yet.

It's enough time for the people around me to know that I'm a weird one. I've known my Fated One since I was born – Owen's mum and my mum were best friends since they were at university together at eighteen – yet I'm not even sure if I think the whole Knotted Fate thing is real.

"Amelia?"

I glance up from my laptop to Joshua, who's called out my name again. I refrain from rolling my eyes at the idiot who marked me down last semester for nothing. I had to redo that essay again because he decided I didn't have enough conviction in my argument. Twat.

"Yeah?" I answer.

"I was just asking everyone... we're having this debate again because Laura wants to. What're your views on soulmates?" Joshua asks. He adjusts the collar of his shirt for the third time, runs a nervous hand through his dark hair as his coffee-coloured eyes stay focused on me.

I smirk. "I... why?"

Everyone in the room stares at me. My cheeks flush warm; he constantly picks on me to ask these stupid questions. The white walls start getting closer, the closed windows start making it warmer despite the cool air.

"It seems you're the only one in the room who knows their Fated Person. I'm intrigued to know your views on this," he says.

He is interested, no one else. No one else cares.

Sam inhales beside me, and her eyebrows rise in disapproval.

I hate this guy, he's just the most obnoxious, self-centred, annoying— no, Amelia. He's grading you here. You need to do better and if you annoy him, he'll mark you down again.

I clear my throat. "Soulmates? I don't know if I believe in it as a thing. I think everyone has more than one person they can fall in love with if I'm honest."

Joshua nods but doesn't give away his thoughts. "Why do you say that?"

"She's gotta be cheating on her Fated Person, right?" Ryan whispers with a laugh. His blonde hair flops over his eyes so he doesn't have to see my annoyed glance.

"Fuck off, what are you, twelve?" Sam snaps.

I snort. "Actually, Ryan, I think there are seven billion people on this planet, so to be fated to be with one person is a bit ridiculous. I think there are plenty of people you can be compatible with, you just never meet them all. I think the whole Fated Person thing can work, but I think we all have more than one. I'm not sure I even believe in soul mates. I just think we can romantically have more than one person, you know?"

Ryan soon shuts up. Probably because he'd rather listen to a sordid tale than my actual thoughts on the matter. This guy probably stopped maturing at age twelve.

"Interesting," Joshua says. He paces the room. "Does anyone disagree?"

"I actually agree with Amelia," Georgina pipes up. "Why would my Fated Person be in South Africa when I've never even thought about going there? I don't understand how someone can be chosen for us when we're born, or even before then – how can someone be destined for someone when you've not even learnt how to eat solid food? Surely, we learn, grow and get to know someone when we can make coherent sentences?"

"It's a good point," Leo pipes up from the other side of the room.

"This is what I mean, people. Social constructs. Now, no one but the government knows how the Fated People concept is done. It could be a proper scientific thing for all I know, but my point remains: many, and pretty much anything, in society, is a construct. Built by society and accepted."

I look back down at my laptop screen. My messages flash, and I grin.

'Hey, beautiful. On a break. Just bought these for the garden, what do you think? Camellia seeds for my Amelia!'It's from Owen. They'll look great in a dark blue pot in the garden, white against blue would be perfect.

I send him a heart emoji followed by: 'You're so cheesy! I love you. Miss you! I'll pop in on my way home from uni.'

He sends me one more message: 'Miss you too, my camellia. See you in a bit, I'll get you a pot of tea ready. Love you.'

"You still up for tomorrow night?" Sam asks.

I glance at her before remembering. "Oh, the party, right?"

She nods. "Yeah, my place. People are pre-drinking at Rose's place, but the party at mine starts at ten."

"Sounds good to me," I answer.

"Owen's welcome, obviously," she adds.

"I think he's got Friday off, so he'll probably come if he has. Get him out, the boring arse!"

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The smell of coffee beans is a comfort at this point in my life. Owen's been the manager for a year, but he's been working here since he was sixteen. I know every crevice and corner of this coffee shop, and it's like a second home.

"Your pot of tea, my queen," Owen greets me as I walk in the door. I grin and follow him through to what's been hailed The Throne; a special table at the back of the store where Owen usually sits to do his admin work, or where I sit if I'm here. As promised, he's got a pot of tea waiting with a tiny camellia flower in a little pot of water.

"I love you so much," I whisper. I kiss his lips: full and smooth against the rough of his stubble. I notice his brown hair is a little out of place, probably where he's been running his hand through it when he's concentrating.

"I love you too, my soulmate."

I scoff and laugh before sitting down. "I mean, we both know we would've been together anyway."

He feigns outrage. "You would've cheated on your Fated Person for me, Miss Nichols?"

"Mrs Carter to-be, actually," I retort and sip my tea. "How's your day been?"

He chuckles and sits opposite me, piling his paperwork together. "Quiet, but stressful. Doing rotas for Easter and whatever. Safety paperwork. It literally never ends."

"You got writing to do tonight?" I ask.

He nods with a grin. "I got rid of the block earlier. Made some notes for the ending." He's been writing fantasy stories since I can remember. They started when we were seven and he'd write tiny little chapters about dragons and elves. I remember his first full-length novel when we were eleven about George the Robot and his pet dragon, Droomy. I hate fantasy, but his story was so cute, I read it in one night.

"Yay! Congrats. I'll pitch up on the Xbox then," I say.

He grins. "If you don't mind. I promise it'll be worth your while later."

"Owen!"

He brushes my hand with his thumb, ghosting over my engagement ring: a tiny little square with diamonds in the middle and around the band. I tuck my brunette hair behind my ear before I glance behind Owen.

Just like a gust of sea wind that will ravage this city during a storm, my mood changes. Joshua is here, and I watch him glance around before standing in the queue for a coffee.

Whatever, he annoys me too much to give him another thought.

"I've got an essay to write. Want me to do it here and distract you while we both procrastinate?" I suggest.

He laughs. "You know me too well."

After I set my laptop up, Owen goes to his office before making himself a coffee. I watch as Joshua grabs a takeaway cup and glances around the place. He walks over towards the empty table two spaces from mine.

"Amelia," he greets.

"Joshua." I give him a grin. I have to be nice; after pissing him off last semester, if I'm nice, he might make up my grades.

"I... like your hair like that," he says breezily.

My mouth opens to answer, but I can't bring the words. What the...?

"I, uh, thank you," I manage. He grins and sits down in the empty seat. I glance back at my laptop and feel my hair. Up in a French plait around my head, as usual. It's nothing special because I always do it like this.

I glance back at my lecturer. His head is in his backpack, so all I can see is his brown hair as it bobs and looks around. His arm is waving about the place as he pulls out books and a jacket. I notice his tattoo on his left wrist, like everyone else in the world. I swear he was wearing a red checked shirt at university this morning. He's now in a brown t-shirt.

Weird.

"You okay, Amelia Camellia?" Owen breaks my train of thought as he appears beside me.

"Yeah, yeah, fine," I answer, but I can't shake the feeling something is off. My eyes divert once more to Joshua, sitting there now reading a book.

His eyes don't look up, but I keep staring at the tattoo on his left wrist. The funny thing about the Knot Art is that to decipher it and match it to another person's, you'd have to look at it, study the little intricate design in the middle. You don't have to spend much time studying it, but you need to be close to it. Something about Joshua's keeps me looking, though. He's shown us a few times to prove he has one during lectures. We've all shown each other at some point during lessons, especially as they're a major topic in the world.

The tattoos are a part of who everyone in this world is as individuals, but they always make conversations for everyone: have you met your Fated Person, let's see your design, what did your card say, do you believe in it?

There are sometimes stories of people on the news who have been sent to prison for being caught trying to change their design. I recall it is very important to most countries. I think places like New Zealand and places in the islands surrounding are relaxed on it, but the rest of the world is quite strict on messing with your Fated Person or tattoo.

I've read stories on the internet about how when someone is near their Fated Person, they get some like sixth sense or some weird feeling of feeling complete and almost like a rush of love when they're nearby. Sometimes I wish I could relate – I've always felt whole and love around Owen.

He's a week older than me, we were brought up together, best friends from the moment we were old enough to interact with each other. I knew I loved him ever since I can remember. I remember in that week between Owen's and my Knot Day, I'd be researching how to change the design. I was silently researching long before that, but I'd taken a picture of his design so I could memorise it.

I wonder if whoever came up with this stupid idea realised how much damage they could do to someone with their ridiculous formula.

"Camellia? You okay?" Owen asks. I glance at him, and he grins. "You're in your own little world."

"Yeah, yeah, just... thinking," I say.

"About?"

"My essay," I say and turn my attention back on my laptop. I stare at my blank page, knowing I need to make a start, but something is off. I don't know what, but I know for sure it's something to do with Joshua and his tattoo.

He's mentioned before he hasn't met his Fated One, even though I estimate him in his thirties at least, and working on his PhD. He's mentioned that more than fifty times in the last six months, the arrogant arsehole. But there's something about him right now, in this environment that strikes me as different.

I scoff and start typing. It's probably nothing, well, nothing more than the man can change my grade from a top mark to throwing me out of university in the blink of an eye, so I need to keep him in my good books.

Social constructs, that's what I need to focus on. Education is definitely one of them.

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