Before I had a chance to ask her what she meant, she signaled that she was moving on to the next person in line. Dressed in a mish-mash of colorful clothing, with the kind of crazy eyes that dart out wildly, she didn’t exactly radiate authority which made it hard to take her seriously. On the other hand, what if she was right?

“Do you mean I’ll get diabetes?” I asked. I closed my eyes as a memory surfaced from six months earlier: a navy Mercedes crookedly parked across from the office building where I worked, with the front door eerily open for days, as if begging to be stolen. The owner never did come back, after suffering a diabetic episode which ultimately claimed his life. The car was eventually impounded.

“It’s absolutely imperative that you keep away from sugar,” the fortune teller repeated, without answering my question. Before I could try again, she had already turned her attention to the next client.

The prediction creeped me out enough to make an appointment with my PCP and ask for a comprehensive blood test checking my glucose level. Then I spent the rest of the day shaking, until I learned the results.

“It's slightly elevated,” he said. “Just avoid sweets and get more exercise.”

Fast forward to a month later, and I did everything possible to eliminate sugar from my life. I cleaned up my apartment, throwing away any remaining candy, cookies, and packaged goods. I spent lengthy shopping trips, carefully studying the ingredients label of every item I purchased. But gradually, refusing sugar became harder and harder.

It wasn’t just my urges to nibble on chocolate whenever I was depressed or anxious (which became a frequent occurrence after I failed my bar exam, lost my best friend Georgina to her new husband, and got dumped by my boyfriend Ryan who had passed the same bar exam that I failed—all in the span of two weeks). It was the way I was surrounded by sugar: driving past a busy Starbucks everyday on the way to my secretarial job, avoiding the office vending machines like the plague, and cancelling my cost-saving “with ads” streaming plan after the same commercial for Godiva chocolate seemed to stalk me every time I tried to watch something.

But the more I fought it, the worse I got. There was my grandmother, who got offended when I turned down her homemade brownies. My sister Kylie, who threw me a surprise birthday party and then got pissed when I refused to eat the cake. And finally, my favorite law professor Mrs. Gatsberry, who invited me out for coffee and became mystified when I refused to touch the donuts she had ordered to go along with it. By the end of our coffee date, she walked back her offer to help tutor me for the bar exam.

The thing was, I didn’t lie about why I avoided sugar. I mean, I didn’t tell anyone about the fortune teller because they’d think I’m nuts, but I did tell them about my elevated glucose levels.

My sister and grandmother didn’t get it.

“It’s not like you have diabetes,” my sister said.

“I’ve had higher glucose levels ever since my stress over a miscarriage almost killed me, and I still eat sweets,” my grandmother said.

Then there was Mrs. Gatsberry’s reaction: a faint shake of the head, followed by a sour expression. After eating the box of donuts all by herself, she hadn’t spoken a single word to me since.

Fast forward a year and I got engaged to Ty, who I met online. As luck would have it, he was an aspiring pastry chef. He knew my anti-sugar position, though was still visibly hurt that he couldn’t get me to try any of his mouth-watering desserts. Every night he would lock himself in the kitchen and spend hours experimenting with them, on his way to achieving his dream of opening his own coffee shop.

Fast forward another year, and my now-husband used our newly purchased house as collateral to finance his coffee shop, which he named “Sweet Life.” A small crowd gathered for the grand opening, which finished with free pastries and coffee for all. I took small sips of the coffee and stayed away from the pastries altogether, ignoring the raised eyebrows. Right before everyone dispersed, one of the attendees pulled me aside and loudly asked if the pastries were bad. Surprised by the question, I told her that I was on a sugar-free diet and that it had nothing to do with Ty’s pastry skills, which were divine. In response, the woman’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t believe me.

Months later, we had to shut down Ty’s coffee shop. After the grand opening when everyone had complimented his pastries, the coffee shop became a ghost town. Ty blamed me. The woman who had taken me aside to ask why I hadn’t eaten the pastries myself turned out to be a gossip machine, and spread rumors that there must be something seriously wrong with Ty’s pastries if his own wife refused to touch them. When we tried to confront her lies, the city’s mayor paid us a visit and threatened us with legal action if we didn’t leave “his daughter” alone. After that, the few customers that we had managed to accrue stopped coming once and for all.

Days after the coffee shop’s doors shuttered for the last time, Ty filed for divorce. If his wife had been anyone else, he told all his friends and family members, the coffee shop wouldn’t have become the disaster that it was. As if that wasn’t bad enough, after losing Ty and the coffee shop, I then lost my house, which had been used as collateral to finance the opening of Ty’s coffee shop.

Avoiding sugar had ruined my life. For the first time since the fortune teller had made her prediction, I began to wonder if any of it had even been worth it. Since when did some random lady become my go-to authority anyway? For all I knew, she might have been a fraud and not even a real fortune teller. Fuck her.

As I returned to the dating scene and began studying for my second attempt at the bar exam, I began to gradually return to sugar. Nothing crazy. Just a candy here or there. Sometimes even a mini-cupcake, or half a donut. Each time, I waited for something horrible to happen. And each time, nothing did.

I went back to my PCP and demanded another blood test to check my glucose level. After all this time of staying away from sugar, it was completely normal.

“You can have all the sweets you want,” he told me. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

As the date of the bar exam approached and I became frantic over not failing it again, I devised a new strategy to cram as much studying into my days as possible. Up to now, I had been avoiding coffee because I hated its bitter taste. But since sugar was no longer banned from my life, it stopped being an issue. Every time I felt sleepy, I gulped down the coffee and became alert once again. Gradually, I stopped sleeping altogether, using the time to study instead.

After taking the bar exam for the second time, I passed it with flying colors. Shortly afterwards, my ex-boyfriend Ryan reappeared in my life. Now that I had passed the bar exam, he was interested in me once more. Fast forward to four months later. I accepted a six-figure position as an associate lawyer in a law firm that did business with Ryan’s law firm, after which Ryan proposed. We got married a year later, on the grounds of his wealthy family’s estate.

Instead of ruining my life, sugar had actually saved it. Soon, my old pattern of depression and anxiety gave way to unexpected happiness. Ryan and I honeymooned in Paris, spending every morning eating crepes, alternating between Nutella and whipped cream for toppings. In the back of my mind, I kept waiting for something bad to happen. At that point, the habit had become so ingrained in my mind, that it was almost impossible to get rid of. But as we toured the Eiffel tower, visited the Louvre, and took photos beside the Champs-Elysees, it couldn’t have gone better.

After we safely returned to the U.S., Ryan bought us a chocolate Labrador he named Candy. And, okay, I loved Candy. The most loyal, friendly dog I had ever come across. But in the back of my mind, I wondered if Ryan was now taunting me. After all, he could’ve just as easily purchased a golden retriever and named him Frank or something.

Regardless of Ryan’s intentions, Candy was a sweetheart, no pun intended. I would walk her each morning at five a.m., shortly before waking myself with a cup of coffee and getting ready for work. Even though the vast volumes of documents got old fast, I gradually worked my way up in the law firm, and started getting assigned to more important clients. In my free time, I found myself taking up baking. I had never been much of a cook, but found the activity unexpectedly relaxing. Ryan praised my efforts, and before I knew it, we got into a habit of finishing our days with cake and tea. Once again, I waited to see if something bad would happen. And once again, nothing did. Well, nothing apart from a few cavities.

Finally, I decided to put the fortune teller out of my mind once and for all. Clearly, her prediction had not come true and I had overreacted, squandering my first marriage and almost ruining my life in the process. I would not make that mistake again. Especially when everything was going so well.

One day, Ryan told me his parents had thrown a party to celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary and would ‘never forgive him’ if we didn’t attend. And so, after buying some commemorative jewelry and a bottle of vintage whiskey, we arrived on the designated date.

The party was held at Ryan’s parents’ home. James and Janice had been inseparable since high school, and a full house was assembled for their special evening, complete with a live band and waiters. Janice’s best friend made a tearful speech, followed by James’s brother roasting the couple. There were lots of hors d’oeuvres and toasts to the happy couple, with their photographs projected all over the walls. The guests argued over who they loved more—James or Janice—and kept telling Ryan how lucky he was to have them for parents. By the end of the evening, everyone was out on the dance floor, with the couple of the evening taking center stage to the sound of jazz music.

It was a lovely evening and by the time the guests began to leave, I told Ryan how much I had enjoyed it. Ryan told me “I knew you would,” and gave me a little kiss, before excusing himself to go to the bathroom. After the rest of the guests had left, followed by the waiters and the live band, his parents and I were left alone in the room. I congratulated them, and said how much I hoped to one day celebrate my own fiftieth wedding anniversary with Ryan. Janice gave me a wink, before excusing herself to go to the kitchen, where the remains of the evening’s feast had been moved. That left just James and me. I looked at my watch. Ryan was really taking his time in that bathroom.

“Can I show you something?” James asked pleasantly, tearing me away from my watch. “It will only take a moment. Follow me.”

I nodded, intrigued. We walked to the other end of their mansion, and before I knew it, we were in the basement.

“It will only take a moment,” James repeated.

“I hope you’re not gifting us anything,” I said. “Ryan said you can sometimes be too generous.”

But instead of responding, James locked the door behind him. A minute later, he turned back to me with an odd expression I had never seen before.

“Good, glad Ryan has finally decided to keep it in the family. Something he should’ve been concerned about before he married you.”

Up until now, James had never been anything but nice to me, so his sudden coldness didn’t make sense. I tried to rewind my actions during the evening, trying to guess if I could’ve unknowingly offended him in some way. But try as I might, I couldn’t come up with anything.

“I beg your pardon?” I said, hoping I misheard him.

“Your parents spent part of your childhood on welfare. You went to public school and had an unimpressive academic record. The fact that you failed the bar exam was no surprise. The surprise was that you managed to pass it the second time around.”

“Excuse me?” I felt myself growing hot like a volcano.

“After marrying a fellow loser, you lost your house to his ill-conceived business which went bankrupt a few months after its grand opening. Then, after parting ways with him, you clawed your way back into the good graces of my son, even going as far as passing the bar exam just so he could override any objections that I had against you.”

His words were like knives, biting me with each syllable. And yet, I couldn’t stop listening to them.

“You should’ve left Ryan alone, but no, you just had to have the ring.” James made a sigh, a sound that was not unlike that of a hissing snake. “By the way, your law firm is about to fire you, did you know that?”

“What?” For a second, I snapped out of my trance, trying to recall how I had left work the day before. There had been nothing unusual in the air. No major problems either.

“Oh, so it’s news to you,” James continued, curling his lips into a smile. “They’re downsizing and can’t afford your services any more. And no, I’m not willing to talk to one of the partners on your behalf again. That’s how you got that job in the first place, you know. Don’t look at me like that. Surely you don’t think that any law firm worth its salt would’ve hired someone who failed their bar exam the first time around? These jobs are already competitive as is.”

My jaw dropped, when I realized what he was saying. While my employer did business with Ryan’s employer, it had never entered my mind until now that it had been anything but a coincidence.

“I’m not going to let my son subsidize you,” James said, “and I know you won’t be able to find a good job on your own that was as well-paying as your old one. Which leaves us with…a very expensive divorce, since Ryan was dumb enough to marry you without a prenup. Not an option either, as far as I’m concerned.”

I stared at James, trying to figure out where he was going with this. I didn’t have to wait for long. By the time he pulled out a gun with a silencer, I was too stunned to even scream, unable to believe what I was seeing.

“Just a robbery gone wrong,” James continued. “Unfortunately, it happens. Especially with someone wealthy like us.”

As he pointed the gun at me, I heard his wife’s voice above us, coming from somewhere in the house:

“Sugar, where are you?”

Janice's voice startled James. A second later the gun fell from his hands. Before he could reclaim it, I grabbed his gun and ran, pounding on the locked door with all the strength I could muster.

James froze behind me, just as Janice opened the door. 

"Your husband just tried to kill me," I told her, showing her the gun. "If he does something like this again, I'll be pressing charges."

After Ryan and I got home that evening, I told him the full story about what happened.  

This time, Sugar is banned from our house permanently.