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Chapter Text

The "reading tent" had become somewhat legendary among the Wicked cast and crew over the past few weeks. What started as Ariana bringing her cards to set for personal use—a quiet moment of grounding between takes—had evolved into impromptu break sessions that drew lines of curious seekers. Between scene setups, during costume changes, and in those precious moments when the cameras weren't rolling, cast and crew would slip away to her makeshift sanctuary. She'd read for makeup artists who wanted to know about love while touch-ups were being done, lighting technicians curious about career changes during equipment adjustments, and most of the principal cast members who'd initially approached with skepticism but left as believers.

Word traveled fast in the close-knit world of a film set. Soon, everyone knew about Ariana's hidden talent. The accuracy of her readings had earned her a reputation—some joked she was channeling real magic, others whispered that maybe she actually was.

"Welcome to my mystical domain!" Ariana announced to Jonathan Bailey with a theatrical flourish. She gestured grandly to the basic white production tent she'd commandeered during breaks. What had been a simple equipment storage tent now served as her makeshift sanctuary. The plain white canvas walls and metal framework remained unchanged, but she'd managed to create an atmosphere with what little she could bring to set. Her small container of protection dust sat on the tent floor beside where she sat on her knees, along with a little Glinda ball that gleamed in the overhead lighting. The air carried the faint scent of sage from a small bundle she'd burned earlier, mixing with the lingering smell of canvas and metal.

He ducked through the tent flaps, his tall frame folding gracefully as he entered. His grin was infectious, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made everyone around him feel lighter. "The reading tent, I presume?" His British accent wrapped around the words with amused affection.

"Don't mock the reading tent," Ariana warned playfully, though her brown eyes sparkled with mischief. She was already shuffling her well-worn tarot deck—a beautiful set decorated with rainbow colors and brightly illustrated images. The cards felt warm in her hands, familiar and comforting after years of use. 

“The cards know more than you think.” She declared with playful authority. “Including that thing you did last week." She joked.

"Which thing?" Jonathan settled onto the floor, his Fiyero boots still laced tight from the morning's rehearsal. The leather creaked softly as he adjusted his position, trying to find comfort in the unfamiliar seated arrangement.

"Exactly." She winked, the gesture so natural it seemed choreographed. With practiced ease, she fanned the cards out in a perfect arc, each one face-down and waiting. The familiar ritual calmed her nerves—this was her element, her sanctuary.

"Think of something you would like clarity on," she instructed, closing her eyes and letting her fingers hover over the deck, feeling for the right energy. Her fingers traced the edges of the deck, focusing on textures and the subtle pull of intuition. She listened to that inner voice she'd learned to trust completely over the years—pulling out the cards that called to her, that seemed to tingle when she passed over them, that silently asked to be chosen.

She selected three cards with deliberate precision and laid them each face down in a perfect line on the floor in front of them, the soft whisper of cardstock against the rug.

As she carefully flipped them, each card revealed itself, the colorful artwork coming to life under the harsh white lights.

"The Knight of Swords." She held up the card showing a warrior charging forward on horseback. "You're rushing toward something, maybe too fast?" Her eyes lifted to study his face, noting the tension around his eyes, the way he'd been pushing himself harder lately. "Slow down. Whatever you're chasing will still be there if you take a breath."

"Cryptic," he mused with a hint of disbelief and recognition in his voice. He'd been working eighteen-hour days lately, working on multiple projects at once. Splitting his time between several commitments, driven by a perfectionism that bordered on obsession. "What about that one?"

"The Three of Pentacles. Collaboration, teamwork..." She traced the card's image with her finger. "You're building something important with others. And look—" She pointed to the final card, the Six of Wands, where a victorious figure rode through a cheering crowd. "Success is coming. Recognition. The cards say trust the process, trust your collaborators."

"Well, that's… reassuring." Jonathan stretched, joints popping after a morning of complex choreography.

"Anytime." She smiled knowingly and began shuffling the cards before sliding them back into their box. He started to rise, then paused halfway up, struck by sudden thought.

"It's funny," he said, almost to himself, "I've seen practically the entire cast come through here, most of the crew." He paused, studying her face. "But I’ve never seen Cynthia.  With as close as you two are..."

Ariana's shuffle faltered—just for a moment, but enough that Jonathan caught it.

“You've read for everyone except Cynthia, haven't you?"

The cards scattered briefly before she regained control. "She hasn't asked yet." She attempted a casual shrug.

"Really? You two are practically joined at the hip these days. I figured she'd be your first reading." He studied her face, noting the way she suddenly couldn't meet his eyes. "You're always together during breaks, finishing each other's sentences..."

"Yeah, well..." Ariana exhaled slowly, focusing intently on gathering the cards into the box, her movements more deliberate than usual. "The tent is always open." She glanced up at him, forcing a weak smile.

Jonathan stood with a nod, brushing off his costume with efficient movements. "Thanks for this, Ari. Your cards were surprisingly on point."

"They usually are," she said as she placed the last few cards in the box. 

As Jonathan left, the tent flaps swaying gently in his wake, Ariana caught sight of Cynthia passing by outside. Even partially obscure through the brief opening, Cynthia was radiant. She moved with a magnetic confidence and grace that made everything around her seem to move in slow motion.

Their eyes met briefly through the space, and Cynthia smiled—that radiant, warm smile that made something flutter in Ariana's chest. Not just butterflies, but something deeper, like recognition. 

Not yet , Ariana thought, her fingers nervously placed the lid on her card box. She'd read for grips with calloused hands and honest hearts during quick breaks between lighting setups. She'd told fortunes for flying monkeys between costume changes and makeup touch-ups. She'd even done readings for makeup artists, squeezing in sessions while hair was being styled. 

But something held her back from offering a read to Cynthia.

Maybe she was afraid of what the cards might say. Her deck had never lied, never softened difficult truths or painted pretty pictures when reality was harsh. The cards would tell her exactly what she needed to hear, even if it wasn't what she wanted to hear.

Or maybe she was afraid they'd say exactly what she'd been trying not to think about—that the connection she felt with her co-star ran deeper than just playing perfectly matched characters. That the electricity between them on screen was real, rooted in something neither of them had acknowledged yet.

The emerald lights of the Wicked set dimmed as Jon Chu called for a break, his voice echoing through the massive soundstage. "That's a wrap on this setup! Twenty minutes, everyone!" Around them, crew members immediately sprang into action—adjusting lights, moving equipment, preparing for the next scene.

Ariana reached into one of the hidden pockets of her dress and pulled out a small wrapped lollipop—a comforting habit she had developed years ago. She unwrapped it quietly, the sweet strawberry flavor helping her reset after the intense scene they'd just finished. Without thinking, she pulled out another and handed it to Cynthia who stood next to her, the gesture as natural as breathing.

Cynthia smiled at the familiar gesture, accepting the candy with a warm "Thanks, love," before unwrapping it herself. The small ritual had become one of her favorite parts of their breaks together.

"Babe, can I ask you something?" Ariana said, fidgeting with her costume as they walked off their marks, the lollipop slightly muffling her words.

"Always," Cynthia replied, her warm smile genuine. She couldn't help but grin at the way Ariana was trying to talk around the candy.

"Do you ever feel like... like we're living in some kind of fever dream?" Ariana continued, moving the lollipop to one side of her mouth. "It feels like just yesterday I was at home with my dogs, and now I'm literally living in Oz. It’s… bizarre."

Cynthia burst out laughing, both at the absurdity of the situation and the way Ariana was gesturing dramatically with a lollipop stick poking out of her mouth. "You mean Tuesday wasn't normal for you? Here I thought this was just your regular routine."

"Oh totally," Ariana grinned back, pulling the lollipop out to speak more clearly. "Flying around in bubbles, leading an entire nation while fighting within the political hierarchy, the usual Tuesday vibes." Her expression grew softer, "But seriously, sometimes when we're singing together I get this feeling like... like this is exactly where we're supposed to be."

"This is where we’re supposed to be,” Cynythia said reassuringly. “But I know what you mean," she said quietly, her British accent wrapping around the words. "It's mental, isn't it? How right it feels. Even when I'm covered head to toe in green paint and you're drowning in sparkles."

"Especially then," Ariana laughed. "We're ridiculous and it's perfect."

"The most beautiful kind of ridiculous," Cynthia agreed, and there was something deeper in her voice, something that made Ariana's heart skip just slightly.

Ariana blinked, as if waking from a dream, and suddenly felt the need to busy herself with something—anything. She reached into her designer bag looking for her phone. Without thinking, she pulled out her tarot box, transferring it to her other hand so she could search deeper in her bag.

"Ooh, are those your cards?" Cynthia asked, her voice carrying that rich, warm tone that made Ariana's pulse quicken.

Ariana stalled, deck in hand, looking too guilty for what she was doing. Her cheeks flushed pink beneath her own makeup, and she fumbled with the box like she'd been caught doing something forbidden. "Um yeah."

She felt her cheek warm further. "I've been doing readings for everyone during breaks," Ariana continued, trying to sound casual while her heart hammered against her ribs. Then she fell into their natural teasing banter, the easy rhythm they'd developed over weeks of working together. "I... uh haven't seen you in my tent."

"I've been meaning to ask, actually." Cynthia's voice carried genuine interest, though there was something almost shy in her tone. "I see everyone coming and going from your little setup."

"Reading tent," Ariana corrected automatically, then immediately cringed at how pretentious it sounded. She could feel her cheeks burning beneath her makeup.

"Want one?" she stammered. "A reading, I mean?" The words tumbled out before she could stop them. What am I doing? Ariana's smile felt shaky, her usual confidence completely absent. She was never nervous around Cynthia, but suddenly she felt like a hundred butterflies were trying to burst through her chest. Maybe she'll say no...

"I'd love that." Cynthia's acceptance was immediate, surprising them both.

Ariana cursed under her breath. She cleared her throat and tried again, gesturing toward the simple white tent she'd claimed as her own. "Ok then. Come join me in my tent." She said awkwardly. The words felt both too casual and too formal at the same time, and she mentally kicked herself for overthinking every syllable.

The short walk to her tent felt endless. Ariana was hyper aware of Cynthia beside her, the way her costume rustled with each step.The bare production tent suddenly felt too exposed, too plain for what was about to happen—just white canvas walls and the two of them sitting on the floor.

Cynthia settled onto the tent floor across from her co-star, her movements graceful despite the cumbersome costume as she arranged herself cross-legged. Ariana carefully arranged her pink ruffles around her as she sat, the layers of fabric pooling dramatically on the tent floor like flower petals. 

Cynthia watched as Ariana's delicate fingers moved with practiced precision as she removed her cards from their box displaying them on the floor between them, the familiar ritual helping to steady her nerves.

"Queer tarot, Ari?" Cynthia couldn't contain her laughter when she saw the deck's rainbow-edged design. The cards featured diverse figures and reimagined traditional imagery with inclusive representation.

"Could you see me owning any other deck? Be honest." Ariana's voice carried mock indignation, but her smile was genuine, some of her nervousness melting away in the face of Cynthia's easy laughter.

"Exactly." Ariana continued to expertly shuffle her deck, the cards flowing between her hands like water. Years of practice had made the movement automatic, soothing. "Okay, just think about what you want guidance on." Her voice took on a more serious tone as she slipped into her reader persona.

She took a deep breath, centering herself the way she always does. The familiar ritual should have calmed her, but with Cynthia watching, every movement felt charged with electricity. She spread out her cards in a perfect fan on the tent floor and instinctively laid out a five-card spread.

The first card flipped: The Lovers.

Ariana's heart skipped, then began racing. The card showed two figures reaching for each other beneath a rainbow, their faces filled with joy and recognition. Just a coincidence, she told herself, but her hands were already trembling.

The second card: Two of Cups. Partnership. Deep connection. Mutual affection. The image showed two people toasting each other, their cups overflowing with shared emotion.

Her hands trembled more visibly as she revealed the third: The Sun. Joy, success, vitality—but in this position, in this spread, it spoke of a radiant love that would illuminate everything around it.

"What are they saying?" Cynthia leaned forward, genuinely curious. Her proximity sent a wave of warmth through Ariana, and she caught a hint of Cynthia's perfume beneath the theatrical makeup.

"Oh, um..." Ariana's mind raced, her usual intuitive flow completely disrupted. The fourth card—Queen of Wands. Passionate, confident, magnetic. Everything Cynthia embodied. The figure on the card even bore a striking resemblance to her co-star. The fifth—Ace of Cups. New emotional beginnings. A soulmate connection.

Every single card screamed the same message: This person sitting across from you is your soulmate.

"It's... it's about your career!" Ariana blurted out, her voice pitched higher than usual. Panic made her creative in the worst way. "Yeah, massive success coming your way. Awards, recognition, all that good stuff."

Cynthia's eyes sparkled with excitement and something else. "Really?” What about that one?" She pointed to The Lovers, her finger hovering just above the card's surface, careful not to disturb the spread.

"Creative partnerships!" Ariana said quickly, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. "Like us—" Ariana caught herself, quickly pivoting, "you know, Glinda and Elphaba. The cards are picking up on our work connection."

She hurried through the rest of the reading, making up interpretations on the spot, her usual intuitive flow completely abandoned. Each lie felt like a betrayal—of Cynthia, of herself, of the cards that had never steered her wrong. When the assistant director's voice crackled over the walkie-talkie calling "Back to first positions in five!" and Cynthia was summoned back to set, Ariana practically collapsed with relief.

Cynthia stood gracefully, smoothing down her costume with practiced efficiency. "Well, thank you for that, Ari. It was... enlightening." Her voice carried that warm, genuine tone that made Ariana's heart flutter, but there was something else there too—a hint of amusement.

"Of course," Ariana managed, still unable to meet her eyes.. "Anytime you want career advice, you know where to find me." The smile she offered felt weak and unconvincing, even to herself.

"I'll definitely keep that in mind." Cynthia's smile was radiant, innocent—though there was the faintest glimmer of something knowing in her eyes that Ariana was too flustered to catch. She stood and headed for the tent flap, pausing just before she stepped outside. "See you out there, love."

As soon as the tent flap closed behind her, Cynthia allowed herself a moment of pure satisfaction. She walked toward her mark with measured steps, her expression carefully neutral for any crew members who might be watching. But inside, she was practically glowing with smugness.

Creative partnerships, my ass, she thought, barely suppressing a grin.

She'd been reading tarot since she was sixteen—her grandmother had taught her before anyone in her family could object. She knew exactly what The Lovers meant, especially paired with the Two of Cups and the Ace of Cups. She'd recognized the Queen of Wands immediately, and had seen herself in that confident, passionate figure. And The Sun? In a love reading, surrounded by cards of deep emotional connection and new beginnings? Please.

The reading had been about as subtle as a brick through a window, and watching Ariana scramble to reinterpret the most obvious love spread in tarot history had been absolutely delicious. Every fumbled explanation, every nervous laugh, every time Ariana's voice had gone up an octave—it all pointed to the same beautiful truth that the cards had laid bare.

Cynthia took her position on set, her expression serene and professional. But deep down, she was practically purring with satisfaction. She'd suspected, of course—the way they looked at each other, the lingering touches, the way their chemistry seemed to crackle even when the cameras weren't rolling. But having it confirmed by the universe itself, through Ariana's own cards?

Well, she thought, catching sight of Ariana emerging from the tent looking thoroughly rattled, this is going to be fun.

The director called for quiet on set, and Cynthia slipped seamlessly into Elphaba's skin. But even as she prepared to film their next scene together, part of her mind was already planning her next move. After all, the cards had spoken quite clearly about their destiny—and Cynthia had never been one to argue with fate.

Chapter Text

Later that night, Ariana stepped through her front door, immediately enveloped by the familiar comfort of home. She kicked off her shoes with a relieved sigh and dropped her bag onto the kitchen counter. The moment she released Toulouse from his leash, he raced around the room delighted to be back before nestling into his space on the couch.

Ariana moved through her evening routine with restless energy. Outside her windows, the quaint town's evening lights twinkled like distant fireflies, casting moving shadows across the hardwood floors as she padded barefoot from the bathroom to her bedroom.

She changed into soft pajamas that made her feel comfortable and unguarded. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, still holding the faint scent of the theatrical hairspray even after a long shower. The remnants of her stage makeup had been scrubbed away, leaving her face bare and honest in the dim lamplight.

The tarot deck sat on her nightstand where she'd placed it earlier, its worn cardboard box somehow managing to look both innocent and ominous in the soft glow of her bedside lamp. She'd been avoiding it all evening, finding excuses to reorganize her makeup bag, respond to some emails, even deep-clean her countertops. But now, with the apartment quiet and the day's distractions exhausted, there was nowhere left to hide.

Ariana pulled back her white duvet cover and climbed into bed, the soft mattress dipping slightly under her weight. She arranged her pillows against the headboard, creating a comfortable nest, then reached for the deck with hands that trembled slightly. 

She sat cross-legged under the blankets, the tarot deck spread before her like an accusation. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and centered herself the way she always does. The familiar ritual should have calmed her, but tonight her heart hammered against her chest with nervous anticipation.

Her fingers moved over the cards, shuffling them with practiced ease even as her mind raced. The cards whispered against each other. She shuffled the cards more times than usual then spread the deck across the soft comforter in front of her.

"Okay, cards. Let's try this again.” Her voice echoed in the quiet apartment, sounding uncertain even to her own ears.

“What was that about today?"

The silence felt heavy around her, broken only by the distant noise of light traffic filtering through her windows.

Her fingers danced across the fan of cards, letting her intuition guide her. She pulled a single card for clarity: 

The High Priestess: Hidden feelings, intuition, the subconscious mind.

"No, no, no." She shuffled again, more aggressively this time, the cards protesting with soft snaps.

"What is my connection to Cynthia?"

Three cards this time, pulled with desperate hope.

The Hanged Man. Surrender, seeing things from a new perspective, waiting for revelation. 

The Two of Cups (again): That same partnership card, as if the universe was insisting she pay attention.

The World: Completion, fulfillment, coming full circle. The final card of the major arcana, representing the end of one journey and the beginning of another.

Shit shit shit

Ariana pushed her hands through her hair, messing up the careful way she'd styled it after her shower. The cards were being stubborn, she was sure of it—or maybe they were just telling the truth she didn't want to hear. 

She stared at the images—as if she could convince them to change. The cards were perfectly centered on her white duvet, as if they had placed themselves there deliberately.

"Hidden feelings," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Seeing things from a new perspective, fulfillment."

She stared in disbelief and picked up the Two Of Cups card, holding it closer to the lamplight. As if it was mocking her.

"You're telling me to stop fighting this, aren't you?" she asked the card, as if it might actually respond. "To just... surrender?"

Ariana pulled her knees to her chest, making herself small in the middle of her king-sized bed. The apartment felt too big, too empty, too full of possibilities she wasn't ready to explore. She wondered how she'd ever look at her co-star the same way again.

"This can't be real," she whispered to her empty room, but even as she said it, she knew it was. The cards had never lied to her before. "We're just... friends... but you don't care about that, do you?" She spoke to her cards spitefully, as if they were personally responsible for complicating her life.

Suddenly her phone buzzed against the nightstand, startling her and nearly causing her to drop the card.

A text from Cynthia. 

Cyn: Hope you're having a good night, love. Thank you again for the reading today. Sweet dream 💚

Ariana stared at the message, her heart doing something complicated in her chest. The reading? She’s still thinking about it? 

The memory of Cynthia's knowing smile flashed through her mind—had she seen through her lie? Cynthia was intelligent, intuitive. She'd probably known exactly what those cards meant. The thought made Ariana's cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Ariana groaned and buried her face in her hands. This was exactly why lying was such a terrible idea. Now she was going to dissect every interaction, every casual comment, looking for signs that Cynthia suspected the truth. Her guilt was making her paranoid.

She quickly typed a few responses and immediately erased it. Her rational brain knew she was being ridiculous, but her guilty conscience had her spiraling.

"God. It's just Cynthia. Calm the fuck down," she said aloud to herself. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself.

Ari: Of course! Sleep well ❤️

There. Simple and to the point.

She set her phone aside with more force than necessary and turned back to the cards. 

But even as she tried to minimize it, she could remember the first day they'd met. How Cynthia had walked into the room and everything had seemed to shift. How their voices had blended so perfectly during their first time singing together that even the universe seemed to have listened. How Cynthia had caught her staring during costume fittings and simply smiled, unafraid.

Ariana stood abruptly, pacing to the window. The small English town sprawled below her, millions of lights representing millions of lives. How many of those people had found their soulmate? How many had been too afraid to recognize it when it was right in front of them?

She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, watching a couple walking hand in hand on the sidewalk far below. They moved in perfect sync, their steps matched, their bodies unconsciously mirroring each other. The way she and Cynthia moved together, unable to exist without the other. The way they'd started finishing each other's sentences, the way they'd developed their own private language with looks and gestures.

She gathered up the deck handling the cards gently, respectfully. They weren't the enemy—they were just the messenger. 

As she placed them back in their box, one card slipped out and fluttered to the floor. The Two of Cups, landing face up. The partnership card. The connection card. The card that had shown up in both readings today, insisting on being seen.

“Ok. got it. Can you please shut up now?” she groaned, tucking the card back into the deck. She turned off the lights and crawled under her covers. 

Tomorrow, she'd have to face Cynthia on set again, pretending nothing had changed. But everything had changed. The cards had spoken a truth she wasn't ready to hear, revealing a path she hadn't expected to find.

And somewhere across town, Cynthia was probably getting ready for bed, completely unaware of what the universe had already decided.

The next day, Ariana arrived on set twenty minutes early, hoping to settle into her trailer and mentally prepare for the day before anyone else arrived. She'd barely slept, her mind replaying the tarot reading and Cynthia's text message on an endless loop. Maybe if she could just act normal, professional, everything would go back to the way it was before the cards had turned her world upside down.

She was applying her base makeup when she heard a familiar knock on her trailer door—three quick taps followed by two slower ones. Their secret knock. The one Cynthia had invented during their second week of filming.

"Come in," Ariana called, trying to sound casual while her heart immediately began racing.

Cynthia stepped inside, radiant even at seven in the morning, carrying two cups of coffee. She was already in her Elphaba base makeup, the green making her eyes even more striking than usual.

"Thought you might need this," Cynthia said, setting one cup down beside Ariana's makeup station. "Oat milk, extra shot, hint of vanilla. Just how you like it."

Ariana stared at the cup, a warmth spreading through her chest that had nothing to do with caffeine. "I love that you pay attention" she said, her voice carrying a soft tease.

"I always pay attention to you" Cynthia's smile was soft, intimate, serious. 

Ariana felt the air turn heavy, but quickly covered it with their usual playful dynamic. "What's next?" she said, settling into her makeup chair and taking a sip of the perfectly prepared coffee.  "Are you gonna start showing up at my apartment bringing me breakfast in bed?"

She expected Cynthia to laugh, to roll her eyes and make some joke about how it’s not that deep. Instead, Cynthia moved closer, perching on the arm of Ariana's chair with a grace that seemed effortless.

"Would that be so bad?" Cynthia asked, her voice softer now, more vulnerable. Her fingers traced along the side of Ariana’s arm. "Me showing up at your apartment, I mean."

Ariana's coffee cup paused halfway to her lips. This wasn't their usual back-and-forth. This was Cynthia actually asking something, wanting something. The shift in tone made her stomach flip.

"I..." Ariana started, then stopped. Because suddenly she wasn't sure what the answer was anymore.

"How was your evening?" Cynthia asked, her tone casual as if that conversation didn’t just happen.

"Oh, you know. Quiet." Ariana fumbled with her makeup brush, dropping it twice before managing to grip it properly. "What about you?"

"Mmm, also quiet. Though I did spend some time thinking about yesterday." Cynthia's voice carried that hint of amusement that made Ariana's stomach flip. "Do you think the universe sometimes puts people together for a reason? Like, beyond just work?"

"I... maybe?" Ariana's voice cracked slightly.

"Because I have this theory," Cynthia continued, her voice warm and considering, "that some connections are just... destined. You know? Like the universe conspires to bring certain people together."

Ariana's hand froze halfway to her face. 

"Maybe that's why you pulled The Lovers," Cynthia added, standing and moving behind Ariana's chair. "We are quite magnetic as creative partners."

Their eyes met in the mirror as Cynthia continued, her voice taking on a teasing lilt. "Though I have to say, I'm curious about something."

"What?" The word came out barely above a whisper, Ariana's reflection revealing the flush creeping up her neck.

Cynthia leaned down, her lips close to Ariana's ear. "During all your other tarot readings you do you usually get so..." she paused, letting her eyes drift meaningfully over Ariana's face and neck, "flustered? All blushy and breathless like you are right now?"

Before Ariana could respond, Cynthia pressed a soft subtle kiss to her neck and then cheek—casual, friendly, the kind of affectionate gesture that was perfectly normal between close friends.

But the way Cynthia's breath lingered warm against her neck, the way her lips stayed pressed to her cheek just a heartbeat too long, the way her hand came to rest on Ariana's arm with just a little too much intention, made it feel like anything but casual.

"See you on set, love," Cynthia said, already moving toward the door. "Can't wait to work on our... creative partnership... today."

The door closed with a soft click, leaving Ariana staring at her reflection in stunned silence. In the mirror, she could see her cheeks were bright pink beneath her foundation.

"She knows," Ariana whispered to her reflection. "She absolutely knows."

Or does she?

During their break, they sat together sharing snacks as usual. Cynthia unwrapped a piece of chocolate with deliberate slowness, and Ariana found herself mesmerized by the simple action.

"You know, Ari," Cynthia said, her tone casual but somehow charged, "I've been doing some research on tarot since our reading."

Ariana nearly choked on her water. "oh?"

"Mmm. Just curious about the meanings. Very fascinating stuff." Cynthia's tone was innocently conversational, but there was something dancing in her eyes that made Ariana's pulse quicken. 

"Did you know The Lovers card is actually one of the most straightforward cards in the deck? Apparently it almost always means romantic love, soulmate connections, that sort of thing. Funny how you interpreted it as creative partnerships."

Fuck.  

"Well, you know, tarot is very... interpretive," Ariana managed weakly. 

"Oh, absolutely," Cynthia agreed, and there was something about her smile that made Ariana feel like she was on fire. 

The silence stretched between them, heavy with something Ariana couldn't name. 

"Unless..." Cynthia continued, taking a delicate bite of chocolate, "there's something about your particular deck that changes the traditional meanings?"

"I... well... sometimes..." Ariana was floundering, feeling like she was in a conversation she didn't understand but was somehow losing.

Cynthia continued without missing a beat. "Because I also read that the Two of Cups typically represents emotional connections, deep partnerships, sometimes even twin flames meeting." Cynthia's voice remained perfectly innocent.

Ariana made a sound that might have been a whimper. She felt her face heating up, hoping the earth would open up and swallow her.

"And the Ace of Cups," Cynthia continued, her voice soft but relentless, "new emotional beginnings, the start of a deep spiritual connection." She paused, letting that settle between them. "Quite the coincidence that all five cards would have such... romantic interpretations when you were clearly reading about my career."

The words hung in the air like an accusation, though Cynthia's tone remained gentle. Ariana felt exposed.

"Ari," Cynthia said softly, her voice dropping to something more intimate, "you weren't actually reading about my career were you?"

The admission hung between them, unspoken but somehow understood. Ariana's eyes were wide, panicked.

"The cards don't lie, do they, Ari?" Cynthia asked gently, and there was something in her tone that made Ariana finally look up and meet her eyes.

"No," Ariana whispered, her voice barely audible. "They don't."

Cynthia nodded, and suddenly her smile was different—warm and knowing and full of affection. "Because I'd hate to think you'd been feeding me complete bullshit about my future."

Despite everything, Ariana laughed—a real, genuine laugh that seemed to release all the tension she'd been carrying. But underneath it was confusion, a sense that she'd been missing something crucial. "I don't understand. How did you—"

"Darling," Cynthia interrupted gently, and now her expression was full of fond amusement, "did you really think I wouldn't notice when you explained The Lovers as 'creative partnerships'?"

The revelation hit Ariana like a physical blow. "You KNEW? This whole time, you knew I was lying?"

"Oh sweetheart," Cynthia laughed, reaching out to touch Ariana's hand. "I've been waiting all day for you to figure out that I was playing with you."

"Playing with me?" Ariana's voice pitched higher. "You've been TORTURING me!"

"Have I?" Cynthia's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Or have I been giving you every opportunity to tell me the truth about what those cards actually said?"

Ariana stared at her, pieces clicking into place. "All those comments about creative partnerships and collaboration—"

"Were me being absolutely terrible and enjoying every second of watching you squirm," Cynthia confirmed cheerfully. "You're adorable when you're flustered."

"I can't believe you," Ariana groaned, but she was starting to smile despite herself. "You let me embarrass myself."

"Are you kidding?" Cynthia squeezed her hand. "Watching you try to explain away a soulmate spread was the highlight of my day. I've never been more entertained. Or more charmed by someone's complete inability to lie."

"You're terrible," Ariana said, but she was definitely smiling now.

"And you're a terrible liar," Cynthia replied. "But those cards weren't lying, were they?"

"No," Ariana admitted softly. "They weren't."

Ariana looked down at their joined hands, then back up at Cynthia's face. "I trust them completely."

"Good," Cynthia said, lifting their joined hands to press a gentle kiss to the back of Ariana’s hand.” 

As they sat there, hands linked and secrets finally in the open, both unsure how to proceed. 

Trying to break the tension Ariana let out a quiet laugh shaking her head. "I still can't believe you knew the whole time and just... let me suffer."

"Suffer?" Cynthia raised an eyebrow. "I prefer to think of it as giving you space to work through your feelings."

"By torturing me with cryptic comments?"

"By reminding you that the truth has a way of coming out," Cynthia corrected gently. "The cards knew what they were talking about, Ari. They always do."

"They do," Ariana admitted.

"Hell, I've known since the first day we met. The cards just confirmed what I'd already figured out."

"Known what?" Ariana's voice was soft.

"That you're in love with me." Cynthia's smile was soft, radiant. "And that I'm completely, utterly, hopelessly in love with you too."

Ariana stared at her, certain she was hallucinating. "You... what?"

"Did you really think I've been coming to your trailer every morning by coincidence? That I'd been finding excuses to touch you, to be close to you, just for fun?" Cynthia laughed softly. "I thought I was being obvious."

"Well yeah but... We always..." Ariana's voice cracked. "I thought I was imagining it."

"And watching you panic about it today has been absolutely adorable. But also heartbreaking, because you've been suffering when you didn't need to." Cynthia gave her hand a gentle squeeze with reassurance. 

"I was terrified when I saw those cards," Ariana whispered. "It was like I was staring at a truth I wasn’t ready for and it was so crazy Cyn” “no matter how hard I reshuffled, it was always the same.” 

She looked up at Cynthia, vulnerability etched across her features. "No matter how many times I reshuffled, no matter how desperately I tried to will them to say something different—it was always the same message. Over and over."

Ariana's free hand gestured helplessly. "But then I started thinking about all those moments between us—the suggestive touches, those lingering glances, how I feel so completely drawn to you that I can barely think straight. And every time you smile at me like you're smiling at me right now..." Her voice trailed off, eyes searching Cynthia's face. "It all started to make sense."

"Hey," Cynthia said gently, her voice taking on that soothing tone she uses when Ariana gets overwhelmed. Her thumb continued its steady rhythm across Ariana's hand. "It’s going to be ok"

She shifted closer, her free hand coming up to cup Ariana's cheek. "The cards just showed you something that was already there. Nothing’s changed. It’s still just us."

Ariana looked down at their joined hands, then back up at Cynthia's face—open, honest, full of love and patience. She smiled—really smiled, the kind that reached her eyes and transformed her entire face. "So what happens now?"

Cynthia let her fingers trail along Ariana's jawline with infinite tenderness. "Now we see what happens when two people who are meant to be together finally stop running from each other."

Ariana's breath caught at the way Cynthia was looking at her—like she was something precious, something worth waiting for. "I can't believe this is real," she whispered.

"It's real," Cynthia murmured, her thumb brushing across Ariana's cheek. "We're real. This feeling that's been driving us both crazy? It's real."

She leaned forward slowly, giving Ariana time to pull away if she wanted to, but Ariana met her halfway without hesitation. Their lips touched in a kiss that felt like something both have been searching their whole lives for, like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place.

It was soft at first, tentative, as if they were both afraid the other might disappear. But then Cynthia's hand slipped into Ariana's hair, and Ariana's arms wound around her neck, and the kiss deepened into something that tasted of promises and forever.

When they finally broke apart, both breathless and slightly dizzy, Ariana rested her forehead against Cynthia's, their noses touching, sharing the same air.

"The cards knew," Ariana whispered against her lips.

"They did," Cynthia whispered back, her smile soft and wonderful. "We just had to be brave enough to listen."