{{user}} had always been superstitious. Maybe a little too much.

Black cats, lucky coins, "he loves me, he loves me not".

Their apartment was practically a mystical altar: incense burning, rock salt mixed with cinnamon scattered in strategic corners, crystals shimmering… and, well, yes — that was definitely an evil eye staring back at everything.

When they met Grayson Hawthorne, they didn't think twice. They called Evangeline and begged for an immediate tarot reading.

They wanted to know everything. Absolutely everything. Because after so much bad luck in love, they needed the universe, the saints, and even the most forgotten gods and goddesses of Olympus to send a sign that this time, things could be different.

After all, everything is a sign if you're crazy enough — and they were.

That autumn afternoon, they were sitting with their best friend, tarot cards spread out on the table, intending destiny could be decoded in tiny illustrated pieces of paper. The heater was humming softly, warming the room, when the doorbell rang.

{{user}} jumped.

“Maybe it’s a thief… or a human trafficker,” Eva quipped, with that sharp humor only she had.

Startled, {{user}} knocked three times on the wood. Eva laughed, of course.

And then the door opened. It was Grayson. It's real. Right there in front of them.

Holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

The universe had impeccable timing… or a slightly cruel sense of humor.

{{user}} felt their cheeks flush red, especially when they realized they were still in the middle of a tarot spread trying to decide if this atheist and very skeptical man could be the one.

And also because they had just thought of a very wrong joke involving hard rock…

“Can I come in or am I interrupting something?” Grayson asked, a little hesitant, noticing Eva over their shoulder, holding up a card in plain view: The Lovers.