I was never the superstitious type. I’m Penelope, just your average woman juggling work, wedding plans, and spending time with my best friend, Esther. Life had been a blur of excitement lately. Cameron, my fiancé, was everything I could ever ask for — thoughtful, funny, and supportive.

Our wedding was just a couple of months away, and Esther, as usual, was by my side through all the chaos, helping me pick out flower arrangements, dresses, and everything in between.

It was a normal Saturday afternoon when the strange encounter happened. Esther and I had just left our favorite boutique, where we’d spent hours browsing through racks of dresses and debating which honeymoon destinations were overrated.

She was still trying to convince me that Fiji wasn’t all it was cracked up to be as we strolled through the supermarket, picking up a few groceries for the week.

We were halfway down the cereal aisle when I felt someone standing a little too close behind me.

Turning around, I was face-to-face with an old woman: her dark hair messy, her piercing eyes locked onto mine. Before I could react, she grabbed my hand, her grip firm, almost desperate.

“I feel four scars,” she said, her voice low and gravelly. “All on your legs. An animal… a wolf?”

I froze, my heart nearly stopping. My legs — she was right. I had those scars, deep and jagged from when a wolf attacked me on a family camping trip when I was five. I hadn’t told many people about that. How could she possibly know?

Esther, who had been distracted by a message on her phone, turned just in time to see the woman holding my hand. “Hey! Let go of her!” she snapped, stepping closer, ready to intervene.

But the woman didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes stayed locked on mine. “I see your upcoming wedding,” she murmured, her grip tightening. “Don’t do it. Trouble awaits you.”

My breath caught in my throat. I felt like I was rooted to the spot, unable to move. How did she know about my wedding? What kind of “trouble” was she talking about?

Before I could ask her any of these questions, Esther pulled my hand free from the woman’s grip with one sharp tug. “Are you out of your mind?” Esther hissed at the woman. “Get lost, witch!”

The woman blinked, as if waking from a trance, then slinked away without another word. I stared after her, my heart still pounding.

“Penelope, are you okay?” Esther asked, her voice softening now that the stranger was gone. “She was probably just some crazy lady. Don’t let it get to you.”

I tried to laugh it off. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” I said, though deep down, I wasn’t so sure. For the next two weeks, her words haunted me. “Don’t do it. Trouble awaits you.” They replayed in my mind like a broken record, and no matter how many times I told myself it was nonsense, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling.

Then yesterday, while having lunch with my mom at a small café, I saw her again — at least, I thought I did. Across the street, a woman was hurrying into a shop, but this time, her hair was blonde, her eyes light. She looked completely different, but there was something about her, something familiar.

Without thinking, I jumped up from my chair and rushed outside. “Hey! You!” I called, catching up to her just as she was about to enter the shop.

The woman turned, startled. “Let me go!” she shrieked as I grabbed her wrist.

“Who are you?” I demanded, tightening my grip.

“I… I’m an actress,” she stammered. “I was paid to scare you into canceling your wedding.”

My heart dropped. “Paid? By who?”

She hesitated, then reluctantly pulled out her phone. My blood ran cold when she showed me the photo on her screen.

I could barely feel my legs as I stared at the picture on her phone screen.

It was Cameron. The man I was supposed to marry in a few months. The man I trusted, loved, and thought I would spend my life with.

“He… he paid you?” My voice cracked as I asked, still trying to process the betrayal.

The actress shifted nervously, glancing around as if afraid someone might see us. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. I was just doing my job. Please let me go.”

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. “Why? Why did he do this?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, rubbing her wrist where I had grabbed her. “He just said he couldn’t go through with the wedding, but didn’t know how to tell you.”

I felt a burning rage rise in me, but it wasn’t the fiery kind that made me want to scream. No, this was cold. Ice cold. He couldn’t call off the wedding himself, so he hired someone to manipulate me into doing it? The sheer cowardice was almost laughable. Almost.

I exhaled slowly, forcing a calm that I didn’t feel. “Thank you for being honest,” I muttered, turning away from her. I didn’t wait for a response. My feet carried me down the street in a daze. My mind raced, thoughts of Cameron, the wedding, everything spinning out of control.

By the time I got home, I had already made up my mind. Two could play this game.

That evening, I set the table for dinner as if nothing had happened. I cooked his favorite — roasted chicken with rosemary potatoes — and made sure everything looked perfect.

The scent filled the apartment, warm and comforting, masking the cold storm brewing inside me.

When Cameron walked in, his usual cheerful demeanor seemed a bit off. Maybe it was guilt gnawing at him. Good. He deserved it.

“Hey, babe!” he greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, oblivious to what was coming. “Something smells great.”

“Just your favorite,” I replied, forcing a smile as I placed the plates on the table. “I thought we could have a nice night in.”

He sat down, and for a moment, we ate in silence. I waited, watching him between bites, waiting for the perfect moment. My heart raced, but outwardly, I stayed calm. When the time felt right, I casually began the conversation I had been planning all day.

“So,” I started, my tone light and easy, “you won’t believe what happened to me today.”

He looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What happened?”

“I was at the supermarket with Esther,” I said, setting my fork down and meeting his gaze. “And this woman just came up to me, grabbed my hand out of nowhere.”

Cameron froze, his fork hovering mid-air. “What?” he asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. “What did she want?”

I shrugged, pretending it was no big deal. “Oh, she started talking about these scars I have on my legs. It was weird — she knew about them, even though I’ve never met her in my life.”

His eyes widened slightly. “That’s strange,” he said, his voice a little too tight. “What else did she say?”

“Oh, you know,” I continued, keeping my voice light, “she mentioned our wedding. Said some interesting things about it.”

Cameron’s grip tightened on his fork. “Really? What… what exactly did she say?”

I smiled sweetly, watching him squirm. “She said you’d be a super successful man and that we’d have a very happy marriage.”

That’s when he choked. Right on cue.

He coughed, gasping for breath as I sat back, watching with an almost detached amusement. His face turned pale, his eyes wide with panic as he tried to recover.

“Sweetie, are you okay?” I asked, doing my best to sound concerned, though inside, I was relishing every second of his discomfort.

“Y-yeah,” he sputtered, wiping his mouth. “Just… unexpected.”

I leaned in slightly, dropping the playful tone. “Unexpected? What’s unexpected, Cam? The part about us having a happy marriage? Or the fact that you’re such a coward, you couldn’t even break off the engagement yourself?”

His face went white as a sheet. “W-what? What are you talking about, Pen?”

I didn’t let him off the hook. “I ran into your actress today. The one you hired to freak me out and get rid of me!”

For a moment, Cameron just sat there, stunned, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He had no words: no explanation, no excuses. He was caught, and we both knew it.

“How… how did you—” he stammered, but I cut him off.

“Don’t you dare deny it! I know everything” I kept my voice low and steady. “You really thought I wouldn’t figure it out, huh?”

His hands trembled slightly as he set his fork down, staring at the table. “Pen, I—”

“Don’t,” I interrupted, standing up slowly. “Don’t even try to explain. I’m done being fooled by you.”

He finally looked up at me, his face a blend of guilt and desperation. “I didn’t know how to tell you, Pen. I thought it would be easier this way.”

I laughed — actually laughed at the absurdity of it. “Easier? You thought hiring some stranger to spout nonsense about our wedding would be easier than just talking to me? We’ve been together for years, Cam! And this is how you handle it?”

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

I leaned in close, just enough to see the shame in his eyes. “I guess I’ll be the one to call off the wedding then,” I whispered.

With that, I turned and walked out of the apartment, leaving him sitting there, stunned and speechless. As I closed the door behind me, the weight that had been crushing me for weeks finally lifted. The future I had envisioned with Cameron crumbled, but in its place, a new path opened — one where I no longer had to pretend.

Game over, Cameron. Game over.