All of You ending explained: Simon and Laura’s fated path and what it means for love in a near-future romance

All of You, a near-future sci-fi romance that began streaming on Apple TV+ today, centers on a provocative premise: a process called The Test can definitively identify anyone’s one true soulmate. The film follows Simon (Brett Goldstein), who vehemently opposes The Test, and Laura (Imogen Poots), his best friend who decides to take it with his encouragement to help her sift through the possibilities. The project, directed by William Bridges—who also co-wrote the script with Goldstein—has been a passion project for Goldstein for about a decade. It premiered at the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival to generally favorable reviews and has since found a broader audience on streaming.

Laura’s Test results reveal that her soulmate is not Simon but a man named Lukas (Steven Cree). Laura, who feels little initial attraction to Lukas, grows to love him as a dependable partner who adores their life together. They marry and have a child, while Laura remains close to Simon, who remains unreciprocated in his feelings yet continues to support her in her new life. Over time, Simon’s romantic life falters: his relationship with his girlfriend Andrea (Zawe Ashton) ends as she realizes his heart remains with Laura. A turning point comes at Laura’s father’s funeral, when she confronts Simon about the reason he paid for her Test. He denies that his decision was motivated by a belief they were destined to be together, and he exits, leaving the two to mourn in their own ways.

In a later twist, Laura reopens the door to private, clandestine moments with Simon. The two begin an affair, stealing weekends away from their respective lives for years. Laura makes it clear to Lukas that she will not leave him or their daughter, and Simon agrees not to push for Laura to abandon her family. The arrangement persists until a moment of truth arrives: Simon asks Laura to leave Lukas so they can be together, but Laura refuses, suggesting that if he truly believes they should end their marriages, he should also consider The Test for himself. Simon tells Laura that, in his view, she is his soulmate with or without The Test and walks away. The years pass, and both men and Laura adjust to their separate paths, with the hope of a different future gradually fading.

The story reaches a final convergence when Simon encounters Laura again at a book reading. He confesses that he does not expect to love anyone else the way he loves Laura, and he reveals plans to move to California for a work opportunity. The two share one last weekend together, a hazy interlude of longing and remembrance, and then part ways with a bittersweet recognition that their time together has ended. In the film’s closing moments, Laura steps into a cab without looking back, and Simon watches her go, saying the same line he once spoke to her before she took The Test: “I’ll miss you, every single day.” The moment is framed as a final acknowledgment of a love that could have been, but ultimately was not meant to be—at least not within the constraints of their lives as they unfolded.

All of You therefore avoids a tidy HEA (happily ever after) in favor of a more melancholic truth: sometimes love endures in memory even when it cannot survive in reality. The characters’ journeys are shaped by the choices they made, the timing of those choices, and the inescapable fact that a single decision—Laura taking The Test, Simon funding it, and their decision to guard their respective commitments—redirected the course of their lives forever. The film’s narrative leaves audiences with a thought-provoking premise: true love can be powerful and transformative, yet it may not be enough to overcome the practical and emotional boundaries that life imposes. In that sense, All of You positions love as a meaningful, defining force that coexists with longing, regret, and acceptance.

The movie’s release on Apple TV+ follows its festival reception and builds on Goldstein’s long-standing involvement with the project. For viewers, the film offers a provocative exploration of fate versus choice, and it does so with a blend of sci‑fi speculation and intimate, character-driven drama. The performances—particularly by Goldstein and Poots—draw attention to the complexities of platonic love evolving into something deeper, and then contending with the reality that some relationships are never meant to be sustained in the long run.

Beyond its plot mechanics, the film invites reflection on how connective tissue—time, proximity, and shared history—can both intensify affection and complicate the decision to pursue or preserve other commitments. The Test, as a narrative device, is less an instrument of determinism than a cultural mirror for how people imagine their futures: as a fixed destiny, or as a series of negotiable possibilities informed by love, loyalty, and risk. In the end, All of You suggests that the most enduring forms of love may be those that evolve beyond romance into memory, companionship, and the sense of a life that could only have happened in the way it did. For some viewers, that conclusion may feel unsatisfying; for others, it may offer a quiet, candid portrait of human longing and the limits of even the most profound connections.

The film’s treatment of love, timing, and the costs of choosing differently aligns with contemporary conversations about how science fiction can probe ethical and emotional questions about relationships in a rapidly changing world. It also resonates with audiences who have followed Brett Goldstein’s broader body of work, including his acclaimed portrayal of Roy Kent in Ted Lasso, and appreciate a film that balances genre-forward intrigue with intimate, character-based storytelling. As Apple TV+ continues to diversify its catalog with imaginative romance and speculative futures, All of You stands out for its willingness to ask what love costs when destiny is measurable and when the people involved must live with the consequences of those measurements.

The film’s visual and tonal approach—sharp, grounded in realism even as it explores a speculative premise—works to keep the focus on character rather than spectacle. Viewers who come to All of You seeking a straightforward sci‑fi romance may instead encounter a meditation on what it means to love someone who cannot be part of your everyday life and what it means to let go when the temptation to hold on becomes a barrier to personal happiness. In that sense, the ending serves as a quiet coda: a reminder that love’s most meaningful moments can be brief, intensely felt, and ultimately unsustainable within the structures of ordinary life. The last image of Laura stepping into the cab and Simon watching her leave crystallizes the film’s central tension: memory and longing persist even as life moves forward, and some chapters, no matter how deeply felt, must close for others to be written.

As All of You lands on Apple TV+ and reaches a broader audience, it invites renewed discussion about how viewers interpret endings that blend romance and realism. Does the film argue that true love must triumph over all obstacles, or does it propose that love can exist most vividly in the moments we glimpse it rather than in a shared future? The answer, as the film suggests, may depend on who is telling the story—and on the timing of the decisions that shape every life.