I’m a relationship tarot reader. At a party, my husband’s female colleague asked me to read her love fortune. My husband suddenly became anxious, “You always talk nonsense! You’ll make her cry!” But his colleague had already drawn the tarot cards on the table. Looking at the cards, I answered honestly: “This man is very handsome and a high-level executive in the company, but he’s already married.” The female colleague glanced at my husband, “Will we have a future together?” My husband’s breath caught for a moment. I deliberately curled my lips: “No, you won’t. If you insist on being together, you’ll end up in a terrible situation.” The once pleasant weekend gathering suddenly became tense. The men tried to use me as a fire extinguisher, desperate for me to say something comforting: “What’s all this talk about terrible situations? How could you scare our team’s lucky charm like that!” “Sis, you’re in the wrong here! Tarot cards aren’t supposed to predict life and death! Quick, say something nice!” I ignored them. I picked up my fork and helped myself to a tender and flavorful pork rib. Today was my third wedding anniversary with Jack. I had been preparing this meal, including these ribs, since 1 PM. I even started the soup three hours in advance. He had promised me a week ago that he would set aside the whole day to celebrate our anniversary. I waited for him to come home with excitement. When he opened the door, He brought his noisy project team members home with him. Our promised anniversary celebration turned into his team’s success party.
Seeing that I had no intention of speaking, His colleagues turned to Jack for help: “Boss! You can’t cover for her this time! You have to take a drink as punishment for your wife!” I glanced at Jack. His usually calm eyes involuntarily drifted towards the corner where the little crybaby sat with rabbit-like eyes. When he looked back at me, his expression returned to its usual rational and indifferent state: “Tarot cards are just a Western method of predicting weather using astrology. It’s not as accurate as our Chinese zodiac predictions. Besides, talking about fate like this breaks the spell and makes it invalid. “Although Alice is my wife, I’ve always been objective and fair. In this case, Alice was indeed wrong, so I’ll take a drink as punishment for her.” Jack, who had gastritis, had been abstaining from alcohol for half a year at my request. But seeing Fiona with her red eyes, he gripped the glass tightly and downed it without hesitation. As he drank, the chill in my heart grew deeper. There was clearly no point in continuing this meal. But Fiona’s tears kept flowing: “I have no right to blame you, sis. I heard you used to be a tarot streamer, so you must be accurate.” She sobbed. Raising her wet eyes to look at Jack, She seemed to make a painful decision: “I’ll definitely listen to you, sis. I’ll cut ties with this man completely.”
After the gathering, The table of leftovers looked just like the anniversary that someone had forgotten today. Jack, who usually helped clean up the table, suddenly changed his habit. He walked over to me. Still with an overly rational tone: “I know today is our anniversary. “If you’re just upset because I broke our promise and decided to pick on the softest target among my colleagues, then any guilt or regret I had is now completely gone.” After saying this, He lit a cigarette and went to the balcony, smoking one after another. Through the glass door, I saw the chat message he sent: “She’s not accurate, you don’t need to listen to her.” I watched him for a long time, until I lost myself in thought. That face of his. I had originally planned to love it for a lifetime.
From the moment I was born, my birth mother didn’t want me. The foster parents who took me in raised me until I was five, but after having their own child, they didn’t want me either. The kidnappers who took me away had their den busted by the police in the second month after abducting me. I finally managed to convince a kind-hearted couple to take me in. But a blind fortune teller told them: “This child’s fate is too strong, you won’t be able to handle her.” They adopted me anyway, but within six months, the couple divorced, and I had nowhere to go again. I wandered half-dead until I was twelve. I set my sights on a homeless tarot reader who was very accurate in fortune-telling and seemed to have an even tougher life than me. To make him adopt me, I deliberately occupied someone else’s begging spot and was almost beaten to death in a deserted street corner. I got my wish and was rescued by him, but he refused me again: “Calling me brother, uncle, or even dad won’t work! I won’t adopt you forever, I’m only six years older than you, I can barely take care of myself!” Despite saying this, I knew he was kind. Even his refusal seemed clumsy: “I’m warning you! I’m destined to be alone! Otherwise, I wouldn’t have ended up as a homeless person! If you insist on following me, I’ll teach you tarot, and once you have a skill, you can leave and be independent.” Zack, who always said he was short-lived and destined to be alone, ended up becoming family with me without any issues. I inherited his skills and started doing tarot readings for people everywhere. Because I was accurate, I helped many girls who were about to fall into traps, and even accurately predicted the direction of their true love. So, I really did fulfill what he said. I started to have the ability to be independent. In the year when live streaming became popular, I gradually built a stable client base online by doing tarot readings. At eighteen, I bought the pork ribs we used to crave but couldn’t afford, and returned to the house we had bought together with our family savings. Even ten years later, I can still clearly remember my pounding heart as I thought about how to confess my feelings to him, facing the sunset that had dyed the horizon red in early summer. But when I opened the door, All I saw was a note he left behind: “Our fate together has come to an end, and there’s no possibility of meeting again in this life. But I will always protect you.” At that moment, I knew I was done for. My life was like that bag of pork ribs that couldn’t be eaten by my loved one. In the days to come, it would only slowly rot and stink with time.
I frantically searched for him for two years. The tarot cards told me he was gone, and I even found out the location of his grave. But I didn’t believe he was dead. I kept looking for him while living a free and easy life in Dali, until one day, while setting up a tarot stall on the old street, I saw a man whose features were 99% similar to Zack’s. My heart was instantly gripped. I stared at him intently, as if traveling through time and space, seeing Zack. “Hello, are you a tarot reader? Can you do a reading for me?” He crouched down, his eyes sincere, as if it was the past me asking Zack: “Hey tarot reader, can you do a reading for me?” Time seemed to intersect at that moment. I couldn’t tell for a moment if the man in front of me was Zack I had imagined, or if my memory was playing tricks on me. How could there be two people in this world who looked exactly the same? I chatted with him for a bit, and he said his name was Jack and wanted me to predict when his lucky person would appear. So I let him draw a few tarot cards. He drew several cards in succession: The Magician, Six of Cups, The Sun, and The Tower. Looking at the cards, I immediately understood. I said honestly: “You will have a female benefactor who will help you. As long as you’re with her, your career and relationships will be full of opportunities. “But with The Tower present, it means you won’t have any ability to protect yourself in front of her.” I always have an instant feeling about tarot cards. I even had a rough impression of this female benefactor: “This woman is very mysterious, her work is related to Western mysticism, but I can’t see what her feelings for you are, the tarot cards didn’t say anything about that.” Jack crouched in front of my stall, a flash of shock crossing his eyes: “The only girl I know who’s into Western mysticism is you, isn’t it?” Ever since I met Jack, I suspected that he might be the one sent by Zack to protect me. After all, even their names were so similar. I loved making pork rib soup for him. Especially on early summer evenings when the sunset dyed everything red, I would serve him a bowl of rib soup and listen to him say over and over: “Alice, I love you so much. “I will love you forever.” Then I would walk over, completely satisfied, hug him, and kiss his eyes, jaw, and the corners of his mouth. I almost believed that he wasn’t sent by Zack. He might actually be Zack. Later, we had a child. I cherished him immensely. I believed this child Would be my only hope for the rest of my life.
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