Page 14 of Love Letters from a Libra (BLP Signs of Love #13)

Sometimes my sister’s perception was so acute.

It was unsettling. We shared the same ability to observe expressions and behavior patterns, a skill we developed in childhood out of necessity.

We watched our mother’s mood shift like a weather system.

Learning how to predict storms before they hit, I turned that skill outward, becoming the protector.

Meanwhile, Amir turned it inward, becoming the analyzer.

“You have a way of disappearing when things get real. Don’t do that to her if she’s the real thing.” She reached across the table to tap my forearm.

“I’m not disappearing. I’m sitting right here, telling you about her,” I countered.

“Sure, physically, but I watched you do it with Candace when she started needing too much. With Imani, when she wanted to meet Aunt Nubi, you got this look like you were already planning your exit strategy while nodding along to whatever she was saying.”

I opened my mouth to protest but then closed it. Wasn’t I already doing that with Zanaa? The way I tensed this morning and made an excuse to leave, though part of me wanted to stay in that bed all day.

“It’s complicated,” I admitted.

Amir stole a piece of bacon from my plate, a habit from childhood. “It doesn’t have to be. Maybe you could stay present and see what happens.”

Our conversation shifted to safer topics: her school projects, my latest security contract, and Aunt Nubi’s visit to her at school while she was in town for her friend’s wedding.

The familiar banter of siblings reasserted itself in her brilliant mind, jumping three steps ahead in conversation, and me trying to keep up while maintaining the appearance of older brother wisdom.

The teasing and the inside jokes we’d developed over the years, being each other’s constant while everything else had changed.

Underneath it all, Amir’s observation lingered.

“You have a way of disappearing when things get real.” The accuracy of it all made my skin crawl.

Even now, part of me was already calculating how to maintain distance from Zanaa without pushing her away completely.

The perfect balance of intimacy and independence that kept me safe from the risk of full emotional investment.

As we finished our meal, Amir looked at me with her penetrating gaze again. “I like how you talk about her. She has a different energy from the others. Allowing you to be less of a rescuer and more of a partner. Just don’t sabotage this one, okay? I want to actually meet her someday.”

I nodded. It wasn’t quite a promise, but not a dismissal either. “I’ll do my best.”

“Your actual best,” Amir clarified.

I laughed. “Anyone ever tell you you’re too smart for your own good?”

“Only you, every day since I was five.”

Granted, our conversation closed naturally as it opened, but the warning remained hanging between us, and I couldn’t quite look away from it.

“Listen, Bro, I gotta go. I’m supposed to meet up with my friends for a wine tasting,” Amir stated, looking at her watch.

“Go ahead. I’ll stay back and take care of the bill.”

Amir moved around the table to hug me. “Love you.”

“Love you too. Be safe. Let me know when you get back later.”

“I will.”

After paying the bill, I exited through the café door with my head down, putting my card in my wallet, when my shoulder connected with someone entering.

“Sorry, I wasn’t—” The apology died in my throat as recognition hit.

Candace. Her hair was different, shorter with honey color highlights, but her eyes were exactly as I remembered.

For a split second, time stood still, and two years vanished.

I was right back into the vortex of our relationship, the mixture of intensity and exhaustion that had defined our final months together.

“Jules? Wow, hi.” Her voice hadn’t changed either, that slight raspiness that used to send currents down my spine.

“Candace. It’s been a while.” I managed to keep my voice steady, though I felt my shoulders tightening and my spine straightening to the perfect posture she used to tease me about.

She looked good, not just physically, though the new hairstyle suited her, and her skin had a glow that was often absent during our time together.

But there was something else in her eyes that was new.

She seemed centered and whole. The realization should’ve made me happy for her, but instead, it sent a complicated surge of emotions through my chest.

“It’s been almost two years. Jasmine, this is Jules. Jules, Jasmine,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the woman behind her, a friend I didn’t recognize. We exchanged polite greetings.

“How have you been? Still saving the world one firewall at a time?” Candace asked, her head tilting in that way she did when she was genuinely curious.

I forced a smile. “Something like that. The company has grown. We have a government contract now. What about you? Are you still with the environmental law firm?” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, hyper-aware of how casual I needed to appear.

“We made partners last month, actually.” Candace’s words came out loud and slightly too enthusiastic.

“That’s great. Congratulations. You always deserved it.”

Her smile softened to something genuine. “Thank you, Jules. That means a lot.”

We stood there, trapped in the awkward purgatory of exes who once knew every inch of each other’s bodies and souls, now reduced to small talk in a doorway.

Behind her, Jasmine checked her watch discreetly, and behind me, a couple tried to exit, forcing me to take a step further into Candace’s space to allow them to pass.

“How’s your sister? Still at MIT?” Candace asked.

“Yeah, graduating next year with an engineering and philosophy double major. She’s in town. We just ate lunch together. I’m surprised you didn’t see her outside. She left a couple of minutes before me.”

“No, I didn’t see Amir.” She laughed, and the sound triggered a cascade of memories.

“What about your parents? Is your mom still giving you a hard time about law school?” I asked, knowing it was dangerous territory but unable to stop myself.

Something flickered in her eyes. “Actually, we’re in a much better place now. Therapy, lots of it.”

Her words hit me with unexpected force. Therapy. I’d suggested it countless times, but she always rejected the help. I tried to substitute myself for believing my love and steady presence could heal what a professional should’ve handled.

“I’m glad. You deserve peace,” I told her meaning it.

My chest tightened further as memories surfaced, despite my efforts to keep them submerged.

Candace at two a.m., grasping and clawing at her chest during a panic attack that came out of nowhere, and me talking her through breathing exercises I’d researched specifically for her.

Meanwhile, my own energy was draining away with each minute, her nails digging into my forearms as she held onto me like I was the only thing keeping her from drowning.

“You were too good for me. I don’t know why you stayed?” she’d whisper afterward, curling up against my chest as she broke down.

I had no answer; that didn’t sound like a savior complex, so I just held her tight, ignoring my own exhaustion.

“How’s Aunt Nubi? Is she still making the banana pudding that changed my life?” Candace asked, pulling me back into the present.

I smiled automatically at the mention of my aunt. “She still won’t give up that banana pudding recipe, though, not even to Amir.”

“Some secrets need to stay secret,” she agreed. Her eyes met mine with the flash of something deeper.

“We should probably grab our table,” Jasmine interjected gently.

Candace nodded. “Right, yes. It was really good seeing you, Jules. You look well. Happy even.”

The observation took me by surprise. Did I look happy? Is that what Zanaa had already done to me, visible even to someone who once knew me better than anyone?

“You too. The partner promotion is huge. You worked for it,” I complimented, forcing myself to maintain eye contact.

She reached out her hand, touching my forearm briefly, the exact spot where her nails had once left crescent-shaped marks during her worst panic attack. “Take care of yourself, okay? You were always better at taking care of everyone else.”

The touch was innocent and meaningless. A casual gesture between two people who once shared a life, but it sent something through me.

Not desire but alarm. My body remembered what my mind tried to forget, and how it always started this way—soft, gentle, needing just a little support, just a little small piece of me—until it wasn’t small anymore.

Until I gave parts of myself, I couldn’t afford to lose.

We said our goodbyes, and I stepped onto the sidewalk, gulping in fresh air like I’d been underwater. My phone buzzed in my pocket, yet I couldn’t bring myself to check it, not while Candace’s voice still echoed in my head, not while I was still reeling from the memory her touch had just triggered.

I remembered something Aunt Nubi said to me.

“You take care of people the way you wish someone had taken care of you and your sister after your mother died.” I never considered that before.

My hypervigilance about others’ needs wasn’t a strength but maybe unprocessed grief.

Zanaa couldn’t fix what wasn’t broken. Don’t confuse holding with healing .

Zanaa didn’t need saving. She stood complete in her own power.

She offered connection, not dependency. What if partnership, rather than rescue, was what I’d been searching for all along?