Page 1 of Love Letters from a Libra (BLP Signs of Love #13)

Libra Daily Horoscope – The Moon in Pisces might stir up lingering feelings, but don’t text your ex. They already fumbled your softness once. Spend today grounding with good people, good food, and the version of you that knows better now.

Sunday brunch at Honey and Sage was supposed to be my reset button. Good food and good vibes. The cafe buzzed with the kind of Black folk who knew good coffee when they tasted it, with hanging plants and smooth jazz playing overhead.

I tried to be unbothered as my cousin Toni and best friend Rell dissected my latest romantic disaster, though it had been at least two months since our breakup. We were posted up at our usual corner table.

“Girl, are you listening?” Toni’s voice cut through my thoughts.

She had that look, the one that meant she was about to read somebody for filth.

She was a corporate baddie even on the weekend, wearing a blazer over a vintage tee with her signature dark lipstick.

“I said, you gave that man a whole birth chart reading, and he still fumbled.”

Buying time, I sipped my latte and shrugged. “It wasn’t a whole reading. Just his big three. Some people aren’t ready for that level of transparency.”

“His big three? Zanaa, baby, you might as well have drawn that man a map to your soul and handed it to him with a bow. Then had the nerve to turn around and say, ‘No thanks, I’ll stay lost.’” Rell shrieked, his voice carried with the kind of theatrical energy that made heads turn.

Rell’s fit of the day was a vintage floral print shirt that somehow worked with his plaid pants and gold hooped earrings.

“It wasn’t that deep,” I lied.

Toni’s eyebrows arched higher. “Mm-hmm, and what happened after you gave him his chart?”

“He said it was interesting and asked if I really believed in this stuff.”

Rell clutched his chest like he’d been shot. “Not the ‘do you believe’ question! Baby, that’s code for you seem so smart, so why are you acting crazy?” He laughed.

Toni pointed her fork for emphasis. “Which is exactly why you need to stop giving these men free therapy sessions, disguised as astrology readings. You were being yourself, and if he couldn’t handle that . . .”

“Then fuck him,” Rell finished, and raised his mug in a mock toast.

I picked at my sweet potato hash. “I know, I know. I’m over trying to heal grown men who think emotional intelligence is a myth.”

Rell sat back in his chair. “Good, because my Leo ex taught me that the stars can’t fix stupid. That man had the audacity to break up with me via voice note, a fucking voice note, then show up to my job with flowers like he was in a damn romantic comedy.”

I laughed. “What did you do?” I asked.

“Bitch, I gave those flowers to a coworker and told him I was allergic to disappointment. Nah, but for real, you need someone with a big dick and tax documents. Someone who can match your energy without a manual.” Rell grinned.

I laughed. “Tax documents?”

“Financial stability, honey. Mercury in Virgo energy. Someone who has their shit together.”

I reached for my journal, where I kept my horoscope drafts and random observations. It was a nervous habit of mine to flip through the pages when conversations got too deep.

“You and that notebook. What are you working on now?” Toni asked.

“Just some horoscope ideas for next week.” Still, as I flipped through the journal, an entry, which I didn’t remember writing, caught my eye.

For the woman who speaks in starlight and gives too much of herself away , your cosmic match won’t arrive with fanfare, but with knowing. He’ll see your Venus in Libra before you tell him. You’ll recognize the feeling when you meet him, not like falling, but like remembering.

My breath caught. I didn’t remember writing this, and why did it feel like a prophecy instead of a horoscope?

As I traced the words with my finger, my grandmother’s moonstone ring caught the light, throwing tiny rainbows across the page. Mama Tilda always said this ring would help me see what was coming. I always thought she meant it in a general, intuitive way.

“Zanaa, you good?”

I was actually spooked because . . . whoever I wrote this for sounded like me. A woman who speaks in starlight gives too much away! “Yeah, I’m?—”

The waitress interrupted with a check in hand. “Y’all good here? No rush, but we have folks waiting.”

“We’re good,” Toni said, reaching for her wallet.

I closed the notebook faster than I meant to, making Rell jump. “What the hell?”

“Nothing. It was something I just read in my journal.”

Rell questioned. “Something like?—”

His words were interrupted when the café door chimed, and I saw him walk in.

He was tall, maybe six-two, with a presence that didn’t demand attention but naturally commanded it.

He had dark shoulder-length locs. He was wearing a simple black Henley that fit his frame and a pair of jeans.

His moves were deliberate yet fluid, as if he were mapping the room.

Toni counted out bills for our check, but my eyes drifted back to him as he approached the counter. As he spoke to the barista, his voice carried smoothly. The timber of it made my skin prickle, which had nothing to do with the café’s air conditioning.

“Why are you tracking that man after you just literally spent twenty minutes explaining why you were taking a break from men?” Rell questioned.

Shit, he had me questioning myself. From what I could tell, he ordered tea and settled at a table by the window.

“Z, you’re staring,” Rell declared.

“I’m observing,” I lied, forcing my eyes back to Rell.

Toni followed my previous line of sight. “Hmm. He’s cute, but you literally just said?—”

“I know what I said.” I interrupted.

“You’re doing that thing,” Toni observed.

“What thing?” I asked.

“You know, where you convince yourself the universe sends you signs through random men in coffee shops.”

Rell nodded. “Yeah. Remember the guy at Whole Foods you thought was your twin flame until you found out he was married with kids?”

I giggled. “Fair point. Okay, maybe I’m just really sexually frustrated. Let’s get out of here before I do something embarrassing like ask him what time he was born.”

Toni laughed. “Now that is the kind of self-awareness I like to hear.”

We gathered our things while Rell performed his usual routine of ensuring he hadn’t forgotten anything.

“That Venus in Libra energy’s loud. Own it,” a deep voice acknowledged.

I looked up to find him standing beside our table. Up close, he was even more devastating, his strong jawline softened by full lips and skin that suggested he spent time in the sun. His eyes were brown, but they shifted in the light, and he looked at me like he was solving a puzzle.

“It’s in your aura,” he continued before walking away, leaving me with my mouth open while Toni and Rell stared at him in shock.

“What the hell was that?” Rell whispered loud enough for half of the café to hear him.

Toni’s eyes narrowed, her protective instincts kicking in. “Girl, either he is a poet . . . or a stalker.”

He was right; my Venus was in Libra. That wasn’t exactly rare, but it wasn’t something you could guess by looking at someone. He said it with certainty, like it was written across my forehead.

I turned my moonstone ring on my finger before adjusting my purse strap.

The rational part of my brain was screaming this was the kind of situation Toni warned me about, strange men with too much knowledge and not enough boundaries.

Yet another part, a deeper, more insistent part of my brain, whispered finally .

“Z, you good?” Rell asked.

“I’m fine, let’s go,” I managed.

I made my way toward the exit, with Rell and Toni flanking me like bodyguards. As we reached the door, I couldn’t help myself. I glanced back.

“That was weird. Who the hell walks up to someone and talks about their birth chart?” Toni questioned once we were outside safely, her lawyer brain already building a case.

“Someone who knows astrology,” I suggested weakly, though that didn’t explain the certainty in his voice.

“Or someone who’s been watching you. I don’t like it, Z,” Toni countered.

“Are you kidding me? That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever witnessed. That was some soulmate level shit right there.” Rell practically vibrated with excitement.

“That’s some stalker level shit,” Toni corrected, still watching the café as if she expected him to follow us out.

At home, I kicked off my shoes at the door, allowing my feet to sink into the soft rug my grandmother had crocheted for me before her arthritis became too hard to manage.

My living space was small but intentional, filled with things that grounded me, like astronomy and romance books, plants, and crystals on floating shelves.

I thought about the strange man’s words and realized Toni was probably right, that he was watching me somehow.

My Facepage was filled with enough astrology content for someone to piece together my basic placements.

Then again, Rell may have had a point too.

In my line of work, I’d met plenty of people who were genuinely intuitive.

Perhaps that guy was exceptionally skilled at reading auras.

I settled onto my couch and reached for my tarot deck, more out of habit than anything. The cards were worn from years of use, a gift from my grandmother after I expressed interest in astrology.

“They will help you remember what you already know.” Mama Tilda smiled when she gave them to me.

I shuffled without a question in mind, just allowing my hands to move while my mind processed. One card practically jumped out of the deck, and I flipped it over.

The Lovers.

I laughed out loud. “Nah, not today.”

Of course, of fuckin’ course the universe would deliver the most on the spot card possible after my encounter this morning.

I opened a video memo on my phone, checking my reflection. My hair had gotten bigger, and my lipstick was gone, but my eyes were brighter, like I had woken up something and didn’t realize I was sleeping. I hit record.

“I’ve built my brand around believing in cosmic divine connection and all that good shit.

Yet when it came to my own love life, I typically attracted men who loved the idea of having a spiritually grounded girlfriend.

They love the aesthetic, but then it’s too much, too real.

What if I’m tuned into a version of love that doesn’t exist here? ”

I ended the recording and set my phone aside, but I kept looking at it, as if I were expecting a sign.

Maybe that was the problem. I’d focused on readings for everyone else and didn’t know how to trust my own signs.

Or perhaps I was just a thirty-three-year-old woman who was tired of dating men who couldn’t handle my magic.