The Tarot Knew First

For the past two weeks, my best friend, Matthew Douglas, had been dodging me.

While scrolling, I came across a tarot livestream and decided to use it to check whether something had gone wrong between us.

I had barely sent two gifts into the stream when an anonymous male account unmuted himself. His voice was deliberately disguised, but he spoke with barely concealed glee. "Tarot master, I'm about to run off to Sanyara with my best friend's fiancée. Read my cards. Will he catch us?"

I recognized the cadence, the pauses.

I was still frowning at my screen when the tarot reader flipped a card and said, "The cards show some risk. My advice? Lay a smokescreen first. Tell him your company is sending you on a business trip. Stagger the timing, and you'll be in the clear."

A second later, my phone lit up. A message from Matthew appeared.

Matthew: [Sorry, man. I can't make it to your suit fitting this week. An investor just sprung a last-minute site visit on me in Sanyara. My bad!]

I stared at the words on my screen. "A business trip? What a coincidence."

The veins on the back of my hand stood out from how tightly I gripped my phone.

In the live stream, the tarot reader continued her explanation at her usual unhurried pace.

"Friend, the cards say your buddy is a deeply sentimental person. As long as your smokescreen holds, he won't suspect a thing."

That familiar male voice came through again, thick with poorly concealed pride. "Thanks so much! Honestly, I don't want to hurt my friend. But when love hits, what can you do? Besides, her fiancé only knows how to make money. She's bored as hell. She only feels relaxed when she's with me."

I yanked my earbuds out. A fire flared in my chest.

'Boring? Relaxed?'

I had spent every night wining and dining clients until midnight for Deborah's startup, drinking until my stomach bled. And she had the nerve to call me boring to my own best friend?

I drew a slow breath and forced the rage down. Then I called Deborah. The phone rang for a long time before she picked up.

"Hey, Leonard. Why are you calling now? I'm still going through project documents." Her voice carried a faint edge of impatience.

I closed my eyes. My voice came out flat and cold. "Debbie, did you manage to clear your weekend? Matt says he can't make it to the suit fitting anymore."

A brief, two-second silence followed. It was enough to crush the last sliver of doubt I had been holding on to.

"Oh, Leonard, terrible timing." Deborah's tone was apologetic, with a convincing hint of frustration. "The investors suddenly want an on-site visit to a cultural tourism project in Sanyara, and they want it this weekend. I can't make it either."

I let out a quiet, cold laugh. My voice remained perfectly even. "What a coincidence. You have a business trip, and he just happens to be unavailable?"

"Yeah, it's that time of year. Everyone's slammed." She forced a quick laugh and moved on. "Leonard, just go pick out the suit yourself. If you see something you like, charge it to my supplementary card. When I'm back from Sanyara, I'll bring you those local snacks you love. Sound good?"

Her supplementary card was linked directly to my own savings account.

I swallowed the disgust rising in my throat and answered in a low, steady voice, "Sure. Work comes first. Stay safe."

I hung up and opened my laptop without a word. I pulled up the travel app we shared.

Deborah relied on me for everything. I knew every password she had.

As expected, under upcoming trips, there were two first-class tickets to Sanyara. The passengers were Deborah Jones and Matthew Douglas.

They had also booked an ocean-view suite at one of Sanyara's top hotels.

I stared at the booking details and lost control. I kicked the trash can beside my desk and sent it flying.

Deborah and I had been together for five years. I had covered everything she needed, and I had handed over the down payment my parents set aside for our future home so she could fund her startup.

Matthew had been my college roommate for four years, the guy who slept in the bunk above mine. I had treated him like a real friend. He even had his current job because I pulled strings to get him in.

And now these two people, the ones I had trusted most, had gone behind my back and gotten together.

My phone screen lit up again. It was a text from Matthew.

Matthew: [Leo, don't be mad at her. It's always career comes first for women these days. Once the weekend's over, drinks are on me. I'll make it up to you!]

I looked at the message and felt sick. I opened my screen recorder and saved everything: The tarot stream replay and the booking records in the app.

If they wanted to play games with smoke and mirrors, then I was ready to play along.