Page 18 of Love Letters from a Libra (BLP Signs of Love #13)
Libra Daily Horoscope – Resist the urge to chase clarity. Real connections survive discomfort. Let them come back when it’s not about control, but care.
I spotted him, before he saw me, kneeling on a blue blanket, arranging thermoses and cushions. He had a telescope next to him. It was expensive-looking but well-used. There was something different about seeing Jules like this, waiting for me to show up while actively showing up himself.
Franklin Park felt transformed tonight. The section was cordoned off for the monthly stargazing event.
The city park department collaborated with an astronomy club to create a small, dark zone, where the surrounding trees blocked most of the city’s relentless light pollution.
Small clusters of people moved to the open field, families with excited kids, serious astronomers, and couples on dates.
I paused at the edge of the field, suddenly nervous in a way I hadn’t expected. This felt different from our previous encounters, more intentional, less about chemistry or chance. My hand drifted to my moonstone ring, twisting it for comfort as I watched him adjust the blanket corners.
Then he looked up and saw me. His smile bloomed slowly in an unguarded way that made my stomach flip, and I found myself moving forward before I consciously decided to.
“You came,” he commented when I reached him. His voice carried a hint of surprise, like he wasn’t entirely sure I would.
“I said I would. I’m typically a woman of my word.” I shrugged, aiming for casual but probably missing it by a mile.
“I’m learning that. I hope the spot works. We should be able to get a good view of the eastern sky from here.” Jules gestured to the blanket spread before us.
As I settled onto the blanket, I noticed the details of how he positioned everything perfectly, the blanket angled toward the clearest part of the sky, two thermoses set beside a small basket.
I caught a faint scent of the chamomile and honey, my favorite tea.
He had sweaters, neatly folded, despite the fact that I was already wearing one.
He thought of everything. He was prepared and made space for comfort.
“The tea . . . you remembered.” I nodded toward the thermos.
“Chamomile with honey.” Jules unscrewed the cap, steam rising into the cold air.
“Clearly.” I accepted the cup he offered.
He isn’t a wish , I thought. Suddenly, he was a man showing up.
“We have about twenty minutes before it’s dark enough. The moon is waning crescent, so visibility should be good once the city lights fade,” Jules clarified, checking his watch.
Before I responded, a couple approached, a woman with silver streak braids, and a taller man carrying what looked like star charts.
“Jules, you made it, and you brought company.” The woman smiled as she took us in.
Jules stood. “Dr. Wallace, Dr. Chin, this is Zanaa. Zanaa, these are the volunteers who run the event, my aunt’s friends.
I stood to accept their handshakes. “Nice to meet you. Jules mentioned this has been a tradition for him.”
Dr. Chen’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “We’ve watched this one grow up through our telescopes, from a teenager to the respectable man before us today.” She winked at me.
“Dr. Chen.” Jules groaned, but he was smiling. This was a comfortable dynamic. I realized the gentle teasing of people who’d known him long enough to remember his awkward phase.
“Well, we will leave you two alone. The kids from the community should be arriving soon, and we need to set up their viewing stations,” Dr. Wallace mentioned, squeezing his wife’s arm.
As they moved away, Jules and I settled back onto the blanket. “Sorry about that. They’ve basically adopted every kid who comes to these events.”
“No worries. They seem great. What about your sister? Is she coming tonight?” I tucked my legs under me, getting comfortable.
“Amir offered to skip this one. Said she’d rather eat glass than be a third wheel to our love connection. Her words, not mine.” Jules’s mouth quirked in one corner.
I laughed. “I like her already.”
“Nah, she mentioned studying for a big test. She’s eager to meet you though. No pressure. She’s curious about who’s been responsible for making me show up somewhere with flowers at midnight,” he added.
The mention of that night—him at my door with the lilies in vulnerability—hung between us for a moment, neither of us ready to revisit that directly.
Instead, I looked up at the darkening sky, where the first few stars were becoming visible. “It’s strange to think that we are seeing light that has traveled for years to reach us. Some of those stars might not even exist anymore.”
Jules followed my gaze upward. “Aunt Nubi used to say that was why trust mattered. You’re believing in something you can’t fully verify.”
The parallel wasn’t lost on me, how we were both here looking up, trying to believe in something neither of us could fully verify. This fragile thing between us was built on attraction and connection but tested by retreat and return.
As darkness fell more completely, the stars multiplied above us. Around us, other stargazers adjusted telescopes and pointed excitedly to the constellations in the sky. Children’s voices carried through the cool air, their wonder unfiltered and contagious.
Jules shifted beside me, his arm lightly bumping mine.
“Would you like to look through the telescope? Jupiter’s visible tonight.”
I nodded, and he adjusted the settings, and I felt something loosen in my chest. A guard I hadn’t realized I still maintained.
There was no cosmic certainty here, no fate written in the stars.
Just two people on a blanket, making small, deliberate choices to be present with each other.
That was more significant than any grand gesture the universe might’ve planned.
We ended up lying back on the blanket, looking upward at the vast expanse above us.
The telescope, which had been mostly forgotten after being used to view Jupiter, was then used to point out constellations, which somehow led to this comfortable silence.
My hair spread out around me like a dark halo, probably collecting bits of grass and bits of fuzz that I’d complain about later, but now, I didn’t care.
The weight of Jules against me felt more significant than this shit like a tether keeping me from floating away into the darkness above us.
“I used to make my own consolation as a kid. The real ones never made sense to me. Like, who looks at all those random stars and sees a hunter or a bear. It was like everyone was on some joke I didn’t get,” I admitted, breaking the silence.
Jules chuckled, turning his head slightly toward me, his profile outlined against the night sky. “What did you see?”
“All kinds of things, kitchen appliances mainly. Mama Tilda thought I was ridiculous, but she played along. I had the whole kitchen mapped out in the stars. The microwave, the coffee pot, the blender.” I laughed.
“Hilarious.” I could hear the amusement in his voice.
“My favorite was the teapot, which had nothing to do with the actual Sagittarius. See all those stars that make up the Archer’s Bow? To me, that was the handle, and those three bright ones over there formed the spout.” I pointed upward, tracing the visual pattern with my finger.
His hand rose next to mine, following my direction.
“I can see it, sort of.”
“You are cracking me up,” I accused, smiling.
“Maybe a little.”
Our bodies gradually moved closer, our hands resting inches apart on the blanket between us.
“My aunt used to explain gravity to me. Not the technical explanation; she saved that for Amir, who was actually interested in physics. For me, she made it simpler,” he explained.
I turned my head to watch him as he spoke, struck by how his expression changed. The usual controlled precision in his features softened when he mentioned his aunt, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly.
“She says love is like gravity. You don’t see it, but it holds everything in place. Keeps planets in orbit, keeps your feet on the ground. After our mom died, I needed that. Something invisible but reliable, something that wouldn’t disappear.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
The way he said it was matter-of-fact, with a slight huskiness in his voice.
Told me more than any detailed confession could.
That was the root of him. I realized the source of both his steadiness and his fear of connection, losing his mother, being raised by his aunt, and learning early that love could be both permanent and precautionary.
“She sounds amazing,” I replied.
“She is. She’ll like you. Probably ask you a million questions about astrology though.” Jules turned to me fully, his locs falling across the blanket.
“A woman after my own heart. Did she read your charts growing up?” I smiled, imagining the woman who shaped the man beside me.
“Not really, but I did use to see the astrology books around the house, so I know she looked at them.”
I laughed, delighted by the glimpse into his childhood.
“She was the only one who understood why I needed everything in perfect order. After Mom died, my room became the one place I could control completely.”
The casual revelation hit me differently than his previous careful explanations. I found myself voicing a thought that had been forming all evening. “You know what scares me? That this doesn’t scare me.”
Jules turned his head to face me.
“I mean, usually, by now, I’d be analyzing everything, looking for signs, waiting for that aha moment that confirmed we were meant to be, or destined to crash. But tonight, this feels ordinary in the best possible way.”
The corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. “Good. I’d rather be something you step into instead of fall against.”
The distinction resonated with unexpected clarity. Falling happened to you. Stepping was a deliberate choice, a measure of action rather than a surrender.