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Three words can change everything, flip everything you ever knew upside down, screw your life up or completely make everything better.

I love you.

I hate you.

Amelia, marry me.

I faked it.

He sighs as his words fall over me like acid rain. Hitting and burning, ripping, searing.

He faked his Knot. Faked the card, faked our life, faked everything. The funny thing is that this isn't just about faking a relationship, or a tattoo. This has knock-on effects on everything and everyone involved. Because he faked his Knot, I've been living a lie and have been kept from my real Fated One. Because of that, if the government found out that Owen did this, it wouldn't just be him in trouble. I'd be guilty by association, and so would Joshua. I've been walking around with a fake card, living the life of someone I'm not. It's not just the legal implications here, and by the look on his face when I glare at him, he's finally starting to realise that's what I care about.

He's been actively trying to make me shut out my real Fated One since he found out, that would hold a hefty price, and I would be guilty even though I knew nothing about it until now. I could prove that I've fallen for Joshua, slept with him and want to be with him, but it wouldn't matter. I hold a fake card; I have multiple Knots that match mine and one of them is fake. The government would hold me accountable even though I'm the victim.

Victim blaming never goes away.

"Say something," Owen whispers.

I scoff. "No, I think it's you that needs to tell me, Owen. What the fuck did you do? Tell me everything, and you better not hold back."

He avoids my gaze, and I've never been more pleased about that fact.

I can feel Joshua in my mind; he's on edge, and I know it's my fault. I wish I could make it better, but even if I touch my Knot and make his troubles ease, I'll only get stressed again straight away and he'll feel the same. It's more torture to play with him like that, so I just hold my glass of water like an idiot and wait.

I imagine him: his dark hair, dark stubble, the way he looks at me that makes me melt. I wish I could be with him now, kiss him into oblivion. I wish I could show him how much he means to me. I'm not an artist, I'm not a writer, I'm not a singer, but if I could sculpt a piece of art, write a book, or write and sing a song to show him, I would. That way, he could never die, and no matter how much he changed worlds or wherever he went, he would be immortalised.

Would Owen do the same for me?

No, but he did fake his Knot. I suppose in a way, that does show that he loves me. But in a shallow, selfish way. He didn't think about the consequences on me or anyone else with what he did. Is a selfish show of love a show of love at all?

That's when I realise: I'm fully, undoubtedly, and unashamedly in love with Joshua Anderson, and that scares me. I've never felt feelings this intense; I've never, ever thought about how to make a show of affection like this before, not even for Owen. I guess because I've always known that Owen's aware of my feelings.

Not that I would try writing, painting, or singing. I'd be crap at all three of them.

My eyes fall back to Owen. He's staring at his hands, unable to look at me.

"It started when we were seventeen. Do you remember Callum?" Owen asks quietly.

I nod. "You had English with him."

"Yeah, before the fucker moved to China. Anyway... I got talking to him about you know the Knot Art and how I didn't know what I'd do if mine didn't match yours, you know? He mentioned to me he knew his brother's best friend had done some dodgy shit to get himself Fated to his girlfriend when he turned eighteen. I laughed it off, but then a few days later, I went over there and asked them about it," Owen admits.

I roll my eyes and sip my drink. I don't know why I think the story will turn out better than it clearly has.

"They showed me what to search on the internet for this guy they named. Showed me his website and everything while I was there. Went home and looked him up. He faked his business as a general tattoo guy, like for custom shit like anime characters and whatever. I mean, he does do that as well, on the side. But he's a proper Knotsman Artist as well, just... likes money. Anyway, I contacted him. Went to see him—"

"Hold on, when the hell did you do all of this? I don't remember any of this," I say.

"You really thought I was studying hard for my A-Levels, Amelia?" he retorts.

I scoff. "Well, I did, but apparently you weren't."

"Anyway, this guy... he said he gets the Art and information in advance. Apparently, they get them a year in advance. If I paid him... some money, he would help me out with making sure we were Fated. I paid him half for the information and then half to execute the plan if I needed it," Owen explains.

I sip my water, wishing I had the stomach for something stronger.

"So, I paid him for the information. He gave me all I needed to know. We weren't Fated to be together," Owen says sadly. I see the hurt in his voice, but there's also a sense of pride as he speaks about what he did.

It makes me want to puke again. How dare he be proud of this?

"Who are you meant to be Fated to?" I ask quietly.

He smirks. "None of your concern—"

"Who?" I demand.

"It doesn't matter—"

I shut him up by slamming my hand on the table. "Who, Owen? Who else have you fucked over?"

He sighs. "Sophia. If you remember her—"

I laugh. "The girl who had a major crush on you since she was fifteen. The same girl you rejected time and time again? The same girl who tried to kiss you at that party at Callum's that night?"

He nods. "That's the one."

I scoff. "Oh, life just loves to throw shit right now, doesn't it?"

He finishes his drink. "I asked this guy if he could make it so we were Fated. He ran through the usual shit like telling me if I got caught, he would not take the wrap for it, that if I got caught it would be all of us in trouble; us and our Fated Ones. I paid him the other half and it was done. He made mine look like yours is supposed to be. Sophia is—"

"I heard on social media. You fucked her over. She's Segregated because of you."

He shrugs. "So?"

"You disgust me."

He slams his fist on the table and stands from the chair. I can feel his angry breath as he approaches and stands in front of me. "I did this for us, Amelia, so that we could be together. This way is easier; no one to question it, no one to change it and break us up. Until he came along—"

"Don't you dare put this on Joshua. This is your doing, Owen. He's done nothing wrong!" I argue. "How fucking dare you do this without telling me. It's one damn thing to tell me and us doing this together, but you... you hoodwinked me, you lied, you Segregated a poor girl, and you've screwed everything up. All four of us could be fucked if they find out!"

He snorts. "Don't pull that one, Amelia, you were happy unaware."

"Because I was lied to!"

"Then Joshua comes along and you're all over him—"

"Don't you dare. Do you think I'm faking this tether? Why don't we go and find Sophia, huh? I want my card, my real card," I demand.

He laughs. "No."

"Give it to me, Owen." I stare right into his eyes; those eyes that have been my constant, that I thought I knew. Turns out it was all a lie.

He groans and nods. "Fine. I'll be five minutes."

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I stare at the two pieces of baby blue card, thinking of Joshua. I told him I loved him, and I meant it. I wanted to tell him the depths of my feelings, but I can't. Not until I get the full truth out of Owen.

"This is it; the copy of the information, your card, my card, my intended Knot Art," Owen says.

The baby blue card has the watermark of a Celtic Heart Knot. Joshua, England.

I check his card: a bowline Knot in the watermark along with Sophia, England. It corresponds with the piece of white paper with the diagram of the tattoo Owen should have had done. Instructions on how to tattoo it correctly, a few illustrations of it.

"I... I'm not sorry," Owen admits.

I glance at him. He looks sincere. I didn't expect him to be though, he does look pretty proud of himself.

"I can see you're not. But... in all of this, did you not give one thought to how this would affect anyone else? If you get caught, Owen... this is some seriously illegal shit. You know how serious the Fated One thing is in the world," I point out.

He shrugs. "And we're meant to be together. Tattoo or no tattoo, we should be together forever. I've known you since you were born, I know everything about you. I love you more than life itself, Amelia. A life without you is like... well, it's unthinkable. I'd do anything for you, including this."

"Including keeping me from my Fated One, and Segregating an innocent woman?" I clarify.

He arches his eyebrows at me. "You've fallen for him."

"That's not even my point, Owen. The point is you didn't tell me, which means I never had the choice. It'd be different if I were standing here and had done this of my own accord. But you lied. We've always been honest with each other."

Except when you slept with someone else, Amelia, I remind myself. Except when you cheated.

But that's the difference: I slept with Joshua after finding out about Owen, even though I didn't know the extent. I could make that choice, and I did.

Owen never gave me the choice, his villainy is unjust, unfair, and never gave his victims the opportunity.

Though Owen doesn't know what I've done, I can sort of justify it, and I know I wouldn't have had the chance if he'd been honest with me and given me the choice to either do this with him or investigate my Fated One for myself and have that life choice.

"You're saying you wouldn't have loved me enough to go through this?" He's deflecting and trying to make this my fault in any way possible.

"I'm not even going to answer that because I don't know what I would've done. I did not have the choice given to me."

"Well, I made a decision for us, like any man would've done—"

"I'm done." I hold my hands up.

"What?" he demands.

"I'm done. I need to get out of here," I snap. I take the pile of paperwork he gave me so he can't burn it or something before I storm out of the kitchen.

The funny thing is, we both know there's only one place I'm going, and though I don't say it, I don't need to.

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The funny thing about lies is that they get caught out eventually. Owen got found out eventually, and I know I'll get found out eventually. My phone hasn't gone off since I stormed out on him last night, and I know he knows where I am, and he'll wait until we see each other to mention it.

The funny thing is, is that I don't regret spending any of the past near-fourteen hours with Joshua, and I know I will never regret it either. I'm just dreading when he goes through this Change as he calls it.

"Uh, what the fuck—"

I sit up in the bed, knowing immediately what's happened. I glance at his body; it looks a little different than my Joshua's. He's a little leaner, a little more toned. He has a scar on his right-hand side like a surgical scar.

"This is awkward," I whisper. "You're like... the PhD version of Joshua, right?"

"Oh, fuck. The Declaration didn't work."

I groan. "Really? Hadn't noticed!"

He chuckles and makes a point of putting his hand over his eyes so I can get dressed. "Ladies first."

"Thanks," I mumble. I get dressed as quickly as humanly possible. "I'm done. I'll go downstairs and make a coffee. I guess we have a bit to... discuss, right?"

"Sure. Oh, Amelia?" Joshua asks.

"Hm?"

"I prefer tea," he says.

I glance back at him and roll my eyes. I suddenly remember how much I hate this dickhead, and I definitely know the Change has happened. I take the stairs as quickly as possible, realising I can't feel any of my Joshua's emotions. I place my hand over my Knot.

The stress dissipates after a moment, and I know wherever he is and whatever is happening, it'll be okay. Somehow.

At least this Joshua knows I know now.

Hopefully, this won't last for very long.

But then my phone goes off. Owen: 'Come home. We need to sort this out. I love you.'

I fill the kettle up as if this is my own home when it's not. I stare at the various mugs, picking a couple out as if it's completely normal when it's not. I glance over the white camellia flower growing on the windowsill as if he'd brought it home for me, which I know he did, but not in the confines of a relationship. I wish it was. I wish he was here.

Instead, I have the arrogant arsehole that marches down the stairs with a piece of paper in his hand and a smirk on his face.

"You know about everything then?" Joshua asks. I narrow my eyes and decide that he doesn't have the right to be called his full name, plus it'll get confusing. Josh, it is.

"I do," I answer.

"And by the way I found you naked in the bed, I assume you've both given into your Knot Art shit?" Josh asks.

"Sort of. It's a long story," I answer.

"I have time. From the looks of his calendar, I have nothing to do all day, so I'm listening," he says. He watches me as I make the drinks. "Two sugars and milk, thanks."

I groan. "I hate you."

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