I woke up this morning with the sun pouring through my window, a lazy kind of golden that makes everything feel like it belongs in a dreamy indie film soundtrack. You know the type—the light that kisses your cheeks and makes your messy hair look intentionally tousled. I stretched, sighed, and immediately reached for my phone, not to check messages, not to doom-scroll through last night’s internet drama, but for something a little more… cosmic.

You see, I have a habit. Well, it’s more of a ritual at this point. Every single morning, before I even get out of bed, I read my Gemini horoscope today. Don’t roll your eyes. I know what you’re thinking. “A horoscope? Really?” But hear me out—it’s become my anchor, my tiny universe in a string of unpredictable days. And maybe, just maybe, today’s horoscope would tell me something about… you.

I opened the astrology app like a secret diary, my thumb hovering over the Gemini section. It read:

“Gemini horoscope today: The universe is aligning with your heart’s desires. Expect an unexpected encounter. Someone special is thinking of you, and today might just be the day you find yourself caught between fate and free will. Love is near; don’t be afraid to say yes.”

I grinned like a fool. An unexpected encounter? Someone thinking of me? It felt a little too perfectly timed because I’d been hoping for a sign about you for days now. And okay, maybe weeks.

You’d probably laugh if you knew how often I’ve stalked your profile, reread our old texts, or imagined bumping into you at that bookstore on Maple Street—the one with the tiny café in the back and shelves that smell like dusty paperbacks and lavender tea. In my head, we’d reach for the same book at the same time (probably something romantic and a little tragic), and we’d laugh awkwardly before sitting down for coffee, spilling secrets like sugar cubes melting into warm drinks.

Maybe the stars were finally on my side.

I rolled out of bed, determined to make this day feel a little more like the movies and a little less like a Netflix binge in my pajamas. I threw on my favorite yellow sundress—the one you once said made me look like “sunshine if it could walk”—and headed out.

The city felt electric. Everything shimmered with that particular kind of magic only a Gemini can feel when the horoscope says love is in the air. I wandered aimlessly, pretending I didn’t have a plan, but truthfully, my feet knew exactly where they were going: to the place where our paths had crossed before.

On my way, I checked my love horoscope daily too. Because one can never be too prepared, right? It read:

“Love horoscope daily: Your heart’s intuition is sharp today. Trust those gut feelings, they’re pointing you in the right direction. Someone you miss is missing you too.”

Okay, universe. I get it. Subtle you are not.

I stopped by my favorite café first—partly for the iced lavender latte, partly for the chance that maybe, just maybe, you’d walk through those doors like something out of a Nora Ephron movie. I sat by the window, watching people pass by, each stranger a possible chapter in my story.

That’s when it happened.

You.

You, with your too-messy hair and a book tucked under your arm like it belonged there, like you belonged there. I swear my heart did a somersault inside my chest. You hadn’t seen me yet, and for a moment, I just watched you order your drink, your hands gesturing animatedly, probably complaining about how they never get your name right. God, I’d missed those hands.

I was debating between bolting out the back like a coward or casually pretending to look up from my phone (on which the Gemini horoscope today was still open, by the way) when you turned.

Our eyes met.

And maybe it was the caffeine, maybe it was the horoscope whispering in my head, or maybe it was fate, but I smiled. A real one. The kind that crinkles your eyes and makes your cheeks hurt.

You blinked, surprised, then smiled back. The same lopsided grin that once made me fall headfirst into late-night phone calls and terrible poetry.

“Hey,” you said, and it was both a question and an invitation.

“Hey,” I replied, and it felt like coming home.

We talked. About everything and nothing. About the book you were reading (some obscure romantic tragedy, called it), about the weather, about how weirdly intense the horoscopes had been lately. I confessed my morning ritual, half-laughing, expecting you to tease me. But you didn’t.

“Funny,” you said. “I actually read mine this morning too.”

“Yeah?” I raised an eyebrow, playing it cool while my heart threatened to sprint out of my chest. “What did it say?”

“That I should be brave today. That I might run into someone important.”

And there it was—the moment where the air between us crackled like static, and the whole world, for one perfect second, was just you and me and the soft hum of indie music in the background.

We stayed in that café for hours, ignoring the world. When the sky outside turned that soft lavender of early evening, you offered to walk me home. And on the way, we kept finding tiny signs from the universe. A street performer playing our song. A Gemini keychain at a random thrift stall. A poster advertising a star-gazing event this weekend.

“I think the universe is rooting for us,” I joked.

You reached for my hand, lacing your fingers with mine like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I think it always has been.”

I swear, in that moment, every horoscope in the world could have been wrong, and it wouldn’t have mattered. Because this—this felt like fate dressed up as coincidence.

When we finally reached my door, you hesitated.

“Do you believe in signs?” you asked, voice softer than dusk.

“I believe in you,” I said.

And then you kissed me. Sweet and slow, like the universe was holding its breath.