I thought it was a joke at first.
Lisa and I had been dating for nearly a year. We had our routines: Friday night takeout, Sunday morning coffee runs, Netflix binges until we both fell asleep on the couch. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good. Real.
Until the horoscope.
It was a Tuesday when she called me, her voice strangely serious. “We need to talk,” she said. My stomach dropped — the four words everyone dreads.
She came over that night, sat across from me, and wouldn’t even touch the tea I made. “I can’t do this anymore,” she blurted out.
I froze. “What do you mean? Did I do something?”
“No,” she sighed. “It’s not you. It’s… it’s the stars.”
I laughed, thinking she was teasing. She didn’t laugh back.
She pulled out her phone and shoved the screen in my face. An astrology app. Her horoscope for the day read:
“Aquarius: Break ties with someone holding you back. It will hurt, but destiny has better plans.”
“That’s it?” I asked, stunned. “You’re dumping me because of… a push notification?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “You don’t understand. These things are never wrong. I have to listen.”
I tried reasoning with her. “Lisa, it’s just an algorithm. Some intern probably wrote that between lattes.” But she shook her head. “You’re a Libra. I’m an Aquarius. We’re doomed.”
The more I argued, the firmer she became. She wasn’t angry, she wasn’t cold — just heartbreakingly certain.
And then she left.
I thought it was over. Until the horoscopes started targeting me too.
The next morning, my own horoscope popped up: “Libra: Someone has left you for a reason. Don’t fight destiny.”
Okay, creepy coincidence. I deleted the app.
But then I started getting emails. Not spam. Actual personal messages with subject lines like: “Move on, Libra.” and “She wasn’t the one.”
I switched phones. Changed email accounts. It didn’t stop.
One night, unable to sleep, I walked past her apartment. The lights were on. Through the window, I saw her crying with her best friend, clutching her phone.
The next day, her horoscope read: “Aquarius: Stay strong. Don’t look back.”
But mine read: “Libra: Tonight, you’ll see the truth.”
That night, my phone buzzed at exactly 11:11. A new message appeared. No app. No sender. Just one line:
“She didn’t leave you because of the stars. She left you because we told her to.”
And when I looked up, there was a notification on her window across the street — glowing, bright, impossible:
“Aquarius: Don’t let him see you.”
