Chapter3

Breaking up with Daniel was easier than I’d expected.

I packed up his things and left them by the apartment door, changed the lock code.

He called frantically, shouted from downstairs, and finally sent a string of long texts saying he’d change. I didn’t respond.

Strangely, I didn’t feel much of anything. Just empty and tired.

That’s when Benjamin appeared.

He sent me a message: “How are you doing lately?” Just one simple sentence.

We started seeing each other occasionally. A soothing companionship.

He took me to quiet parks for walks, listened to me ramble incoherently about Daniel without ever interrupting.

On weekends we went to museums. He could stand in front of a painting and tell me all kinds of background stories in a steady, gentle voice.

I’d never met a man like this—calm, patient, like even if the sky fell he could calculate a way forward with formulas.

“You make me feel like my old life was a noisy circus,” I blurted out once over coffee.

He smiled, adjusting his glasses. “Just different perspectives on things. Emotions are variables, but logic is constant.”

I started to rely on that “constant.”

The volatile anxiety Daniel had left behind gradually settled in Benjamin’s presence. He became my emotional life raft.

To get closer to his world, I started playing Lucky Star more often.

Benjamin mentioned he’d helped design a limited set of cards in the app, called “Professor’s Blessing.” He said it was a gift for those who truly believed rationality and luck could coexist.

The preview image was a deep blue background with stellar orbits, breathtakingly beautiful.

The description read: “A blessing imbued with the light of wisdom, may the holder see through confusion.”

It didn’t specify what exactly it did, but that mysterious allure hooked me.

I wanted to draw it.

Like drawing it would prove I was getting closer to Benjamin’s clear, intelligent world.

I started topping up every day. The $9.99 basic pack, the $19.99 luck doubler, the $49.99 starlight box… transaction alerts became background noise. My drawers filled with “lucky gifts” that arrived: cheap socks printed with zodiac signs, plastic keychains that lost their color, mini candles with harsh chemical smells.

But all I wanted was that one card.

“Is the probability broken or something?” One night in Benjamin’s study, I couldn’t help complaining.

The screen showed another “Unfortunately” message. I showed him my draw history, a dense wall of gray.

“I’ve spent almost a thousand bucks and haven’t even seen a shadow of it.”

Benjamin was grading papers. He took off his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and looked at my phone. His profile looked especially rational in the lamplight.

“Looks like luck’s been a bit tricky.” He handed my phone back, his voice as gentle as ever. “But Mia, that’s exactly what makes it ‘rare.’ If everyone could easily get it, would it still be called a blessing? Its value lies in being waited for, in being persistently sought.”

“But this is too hard.” I sank into the sofa, feeling a familiar frustration.

He came over and sat in the armchair nearby, maintaining just the right distance.

“All valuable things are hard. Good relationships, career success, inner peace… which one is easy?” He looked at me, his gaze like a calm lake. “Continued effort is itself a form of practice. It tests your patience and faith. I believe you’ll draw it.”

His words smoothed out my inner restlessness.

Right, valuable things are hard. I nodded.

“You’re right. I was just being too impatient.”

“Enjoy the process.” He smiled. “Sometimes anticipation itself is more interesting than getting the thing.”

That night when I got home, I opened Lucky Star again. My account balance was low.

I stared at the outline of the Professor’s Blessing card and bit my lip.

This time, I went straight for the $99.99 “Stellar Mystery” ultimate pack. Payment successful.

The spinner spun wildly, flashing gold, finally slowing to a stop.

What popped up wasn’t the blue star card.

Another pair of zodiac socks.

I tossed my phone aside and buried my face in the pillow. A cold irritation welled up from my stomach.

Over a thousand dollars, traded for a drawer full of junk and an increasingly distant hope.

Benjamin said anticipation is more interesting than getting it? Then why did I only feel a bottomless exhaustion and a vague, indescribable doubt?