Illusion

It had been exactly seven days since that December night at ECO—the night with the cards, the coincidences, and the sly wink that left me spinning.

It started as just another Thursday. A local bar buzzing with laughter, tall drinks, and something new: Singles Game Night.

For every drink you bought, you received a playing card. Match your card with someone else’s, and you won a free drink—and a blind date. Flirty, fun, and laced with the promise of serendipity.

I wasn't expecting much. A quiet night, maybe a quick drink. I was scrolling through Hinge, half-heartedly swiping, when I noticed her.

She wasn’t trying to stand out. The kind of girl who could disappear in a crowd by design. Blink, and you’d miss her. But something about her—still, intentional—made you want to look again.

Her name was Nyra.

She sat at the bar, wrapped in a scarf that looked far too warm for indoors, sipping something golden—Hot Toddy, I later learned.

She seemed to sense someone watching her. Maybe it was my awkwardly held gaze. Maybe it was that infamous "girl intuition." Whatever it was, our eyes locked. She didn’t look away.

Then the bartender, grinning too knowingly, slid a card across to her: Jack of Clubs.

I glanced at mine.

Jack of Clubs.

She looked at it, then at me. Raised an eyebrow. Smiled. “Coincidence?” I asked.

“Or fate,” she said, nonchalantly.

The evening unfolded like magic. Two drinks later, we’d exchanged not just cards, but playlists, travel stories, weird food allergies, and an inexplicable dislike of coriander.

And then, just before we left, I saw it.

As she turned to go, Nyra glanced back at the bartender and winked.

The same bartender who had just handed her the Queen of Hearts, her second card of the night—
the exact same second card I’d received earlier.

Was it rigged?

Of course, it was.

Did I care?

Not really.

We stepped out into the cool December air. I was still buzzing—not from the alcohol, but from something else entirely.

"This was different," I said, meaning it.

“Different nice?” she teased.

“Oh, absolutely. I didn’t think the evening would end like this. I mean—I don’t mean to scare you off—but I’ve never connected with someone so well on a first…”

“Date?” she smiled.

“If we can call it that… yes.”

I didn’t want it to end. “What’s the best way to stay in touch? Your number? Instagram? How can I see you again?”

She paused. Looked up at me for a long moment. “Some things are better left on a good note, no? Why spoil a good interaction? Why break the illusion?”

“Illusion?” I was confused.

“Isn’t that what first dates are?” she asked. “People at their best behavior. Their best foot forward. Once the honeymoon ends, reality walks in. Expectations get set, then unmet. People take each other for granted. It falls apart. Hearts break. Time is wasted sulking, fussing, starting over… Is it really worth it?”

I nodded slowly. “Sounds like you’ve been through a lot.”

“Or maybe I’ve just watched carefully. Observed. Chosen differently.”

She smiled, the kind that says: I’ve made peace with this.

“I don't mean to spoil a good thing,” she added. “This was really good. We had fun. It was enough. Maybe we shake to that and go our own ways.”

“But wouldn’t you want to know—what if?”

“I’ve learned to have no expectations from others. Only from myself. I live in the present. I enjoy the moment. I don’t ask ‘what if.’”

I offered a gentler ask. “Can we at least stay in touch? Just… friends?”

She looked up at me with those unreadable eyes.

“I think we’re better off not forcing it.”

Her words landed like a soft thud. Kind, but final.

I wanted to say something else. Anything else. But I didn’t. Maybe I couldn’t. There was likely more than what met the eye—an old wound, a story untold, or just a heart that had grown cautious.

And so I let her go.

But here’s the thing about the Queen of Hearts.

She may leave the table, but she never really leaves the game.

A week later, I found myself back at ECO. No plan. Just... curiosity.

The same bartender was there. He smiled like he knew something I didn’t. Slid me a drink. Tucked beneath it?

Another card.

Queen of Hearts.

I looked up, startled—and felt a presence behind me.

A voice, amused and familiar:
“Still chasing illusions?”

I turned.

Nyra.

That same half-smile. That same unreadable look.

“No,” I said. “Just curious.”

Maybe love doesn’t always begin with certainty.
Maybe sometimes it starts with a card trick.
Or a wink.
Or the quiet hope that this time, it might be different… nice.