I still remember that day as if it happened just yesterday. The sun was shining brightly, making the golden leaves shimmer in the soft breeze of the autumn air.

I sat by the window in my cozy living room, gazing at my hand.

The light caught the engagement ring on my finger, casting little sparkles across the room. It felt surreal, like a scene from a fairy tale.

At 46 years old, I had finally found love. I had never been married before, and after so many years of hoping and wondering, it felt like a dream that I had almost given up on.

There were times in my life when I believed I’d never find the kind of love that others seemed to stumble upon so easily.

I often thought life was punishing me for the mistakes I’d made in the past—mistakes I couldn’t forget, much less forgive myself for.

I had spent years trying to understand why love always seemed to pass me by. I delved deep into astrology, searching for answers in the stars.

I convinced myself that it just wasn’t in my destiny. I was meant to be alone, or so I thought.

But everything had changed suddenly. I looked down at my hand again, hardly able to believe it. The ring was proof that love had found me after all.

And Larry—my sweet, caring Larry—was sleeping peacefully in the next room. The thought of him brought a warm smile to my face.

He had been nothing but wonderful to me, and for the first time in years, I felt at peace. My life couldn’t have been more perfect.

That morning, I was on my way to meet my best friend, Cynthia. She had been with me through so much over the years, through all my ups and downs.

I’d told her the exciting news about my engagement, and she was eager to see me and celebrate.

I knew she was happy for me, but there was something bittersweet about it too.

Cynthia was 49 and still single, having gone through her own heartbreak after a painful divorce.

We had always leaned on each other through those tough times, so I understood why this moment might have stirred up complicated emotions for her.

Still, she insisted that we meet, and I was happy to see her.

Cynthia had been my rock, and despite the whirlwind of excitement and planning for the future with Larry, I knew I needed to keep her close. She understood me in a way few others did.

As I walked out the door, I couldn’t wait to show her the ring and share the happiness that had finally come into my life.

We decided to meet at the local fair that afternoon, a place I’d always loved.

The lively atmosphere, the laughter of children, the bright colors of balloons and banners waving in the breeze, the smell of funnel cakes and popcorn—it was the kind of place that made you feel young, no matter your age.

Cynthia knew how much I enjoyed it. She understood that fairs, with their playful chaos, brought me joy.

They reminded me that even in the midst of uncertainty, life could be fun and lighthearted.

When we met at the entrance, Cynthia greeted me with her usual big, warm hug. “I’ve missed you!” she said, squeezing me tight.

As we pulled apart, I couldn’t wait any longer to show her the engagement ring. I held out my hand, smiling, and her eyes widened in delight.

“Oh my goodness, it’s beautiful!” she exclaimed, taking my hand and admiring the ring from every angle.

“So that’s why you’ve been so quiet lately!” she teased, nudging me playfully.

I laughed, knowing she was right.

“I know, I’m sorry,” I said, a little sheepishly. “It’s just that with Larry and everything, I’ve been… well, distracted.”

“Distracted by love,” Cynthia said with a wink.

“I get it. You don’t have to apologize.”

I was relieved that she understood, but I couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty.

Cynthia and I had been through so much together—our long conversations, comforting each other after failed relationships, and all the times we leaned on each other when things got tough.

And now, with Larry in my life, I had unintentionally started to drift away. But Cynthia didn’t seem to mind, and that put me at ease.

We spent the next couple of hours walking through the fair, laughing and having a great time.

We shared a couple of drinks, played some of the games, and even dared to ride the Ferris wheel, despite both of us being a little scared of heights.

The day was filled with the kind of lighthearted fun that had always helped us bond.

But then, as we wandered through the stalls, we came across a fortune teller’s tent. The outside was decorated with mystical symbols, and a sign in front promised to reveal the future.

Cynthia immediately grabbed my hand, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

“We have to go in!” she said, pulling me toward the tent.

I hesitated, feeling an odd mix of curiosity and fear. Years ago, I would have been the first one to rush inside.

I used to be obsessed with things like this—astrology, tarot cards, anything that hinted at the secrets of destiny.

But now? Life was finally good, and I didn’t want to risk hearing something that might make me doubt that.

“I don’t know, Cynthia,” I said slowly.

“Do we really need to know what’s ahead? Everything’s going so well. I feel like… maybe I’m tempting fate.”

“Oh, come on! It’s just for fun,” Cynthia insisted, tugging my arm.

“You know you used to love this stuff. Let’s see what she has to say.”

She wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so reluctantly, I followed her inside. The tent was dimly lit, the smell of incense heavy in the air.

A woman sat behind a small table draped in velvet, her eyes glinting in the flickering candlelight.

In the middle of the table was a crystal ball, its surface smooth and glistening, like it held all the secrets of the universe.

Cynthia went first. The fortune teller took her hand, murmuring something about a lifelong friend and never letting her go.

Cynthia smiled at me, and I knew she believed she was the friend being mentioned. It was sweet, comforting even.

Then it was my turn. My heart beat a little faster as I sat down across from the fortune teller, extending my hand toward her.

The moment the fortune teller took my hand, her entire demeanor shifted. Her face, once neutral and calm, darkened with a seriousness that made my stomach twist.

I could feel my heart beat faster as her grip tightened slightly, and I knew something was wrong before she even spoke.

“You’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life,” she said, her voice low and steady, as if delivering a terrible secret.

Her eyes locked onto mine, and I could feel a cold sweat forming on the back of my neck.

“You need to take off that ring and run away from the man who gave it to you.”

I sat there, frozen, unable to process what she had just said. My mind raced with confusion.

Was she talking about Larry? My Larry, who had been nothing but kind, patient, and loving from the very beginning? Why would she say that?

My hands started to tremble, and it felt like the air in the tent had suddenly thickened, pressing in on me from all sides.

Cynthia, on the other hand, looked convinced.

As we left the tent, she nudged me lightly and said, “You should listen to her. Maybe it’s not too late to avoid a terrible mistake.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. The fortune teller’s words echoed in my mind, her warning clinging to me like a shadow I couldn’t shake.

I had once believed in this kind of thing—destiny, fate, the power of the universe to guide us.

What if she was right? What if I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life and I didn’t even see it coming?

But… Larry? How could I leave him, just because of a few words?

I returned home that evening, feeling like a storm was raging inside me.

My mind was spinning, caught between the fortune teller’s warning and my own love for Larry.

As I stepped through the front door, there he was—standing in the kitchen with a warm smile on his face.

The smell of dinner wafted through the air, and I could see he had set the table for us, candles flickering softly.

“Hey, I’ve been waiting for you,” Larry said, his voice full of warmth. “I made your favorite—spaghetti with that sauce you like.”

I stood in the doorway, staring at him, the fortune teller’s words playing over and over in my head.

My throat tightened, and before I knew it, tears welled up in my eyes. I tried to hold them back, but they spilled over, and I could see the concern on Larry’s face grow.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, quickly moving toward me, his brow furrowed with worry.

“Why are you crying?”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Through my tears, I began to tell him everything.

I explained what had happened at the fortune teller’s tent—the strange look in her eyes, the chilling words she had spoken, and how Cynthia had been convinced I should listen to her.

I could hear how crazy it all sounded as the words left my mouth, like something out of a bad dream.

Larry stood there, listening quietly, his face soft with understanding. When I finished, I shook my head, feeling foolish.

“I love you, Larry,” I said, wiping my tears. “I’m not going to let some fortune teller control my life. I don’t care what she said. I choose you.”

Larry didn’t hesitate. He pulled me into a tight hug, holding me close. “I love you too,” he whispered into my hair.

We kissed, and for that moment, the fear and confusion melted away. Everything felt right again.

But the next day, Cynthia showed up at my house, and the peace I had found was shattered.

Her face was red with anger, and the moment she saw me, she started shouting.

“Why are you doing this?” she yelled, her voice trembling. “Why would you ruin your life—and our friendship—by staying with him?”

I was taken aback, completely shocked by her outburst. “Because I love him, Cynthia!” I replied, feeling my heart pound in my chest.

“Love?” she snapped.

“Don’t you love me too? Do you know how much money I spent to get that fortune teller to say those things? I did it so you’d leave him! So we could go back to how things used to be. Don’t you want that?”

My heart stopped.

“You paid her to say that?” I whispered, barely believing what I was hearing.

“Yes!” she said, almost pleading now.

“We could have been like we were before—just us. Don’t you want that?”

I stared at Cynthia, someone I had once considered my best friend, and realized that she had almost destroyed everything.

“No,” I said quietly, shaking my head. “I don’t think I want that anymore.” And with that, I closed the door.

As I sat down next to Larry, I realized I didn’t need a fortune teller to predict my future.

I didn’t need anyone to tell me how to live my life. I had Larry, and that was enough. I wanted to live my future day by day—with him.

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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Kevin had already made a costume with his mother, helped his dad decorate their home, and was imagining all the candy he would collect. But one undecorated house on his street kept bothering him. He couldn’t understand why someone would skip celebrating, so he decided they might need help. Read the full story here.

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