The Matchmaker (by Sophie Smith) novel Chapter 137

CHAPTER 137

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Saphira stepped into her room, the door clicking shut behind her with a soft finality. The quiet wrapped around her like a balm–gentle, familiar, and deeply needed. She stood still for a moment, letting the silence settle into her bones. Her eyes drifted across the space: the neatly made bed, the soft spill of moonlight across the floorboards, the faint trace of lavender from the diffuser on the shelf. Home. Finally.

She peeled off her clothes slowly, each layer feeling heavier than it should. Her body ached–not just from the mission, but from the weight of everything she’d carried. Every decision. Every moment of

fear. Every word she hadn’t said. Her fingers trembled slightly as she undid the last clasp, and she

stepped into the shower, letting the steam rise around her like a veil.

The hot water cascaded over her skin, washing away the grime, the tension, the lingering adrenaline. Her forehead pressed against the cool tile, breath fogging the air. I’m safe. I’m here. But gods, I’m tired. Her eyes closed, and for a few long minutes, she let herself disappear into the heat.

The water muffled everything–memories, voices, even the quiet rage still simmering in her chest. She stayed longer than she meant to, letting the warmth soak into her muscles, soften the edges of her thoughts.

When she finally stepped out, wrapped in a towel, her hair damp and curling at the ends, she paused mid–step.

Nikolas was there.

He sat on the edge of the bed, two plates balanced on his lap, the scent of warm bread and roasted vegetables filling the room. Her heart lifted instantly, a soft flutter in her chest. He waited. He brought food. Of course he did.

She smiled, surprised and touched. “You didn’t have to.”

Nikolas looked up, his eyes lighting the moment they met hers. “I wanted to.”

She walked over, the towel tucked tightly around her, still clinging to the warmth of the shower. She took one of the plates from him, the heat seeping into her fingers. She sat beside him, their shoulders brushing, and for a while, they ate in quiet companionship.

Every few bites, their eyes met–brief glances, lingering ones. The kind that said I missed you, I’m here, You’re safe now. Words weren’t needed. Not yet.

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CHAPTER 137

As soon as the last bite was gone, Nikolas moved.

Fast.

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He set the plate aside and pulled her into his arms, his lips finding hers with urgency. The towel slipped slightly, but she didn’t care. Her hands curled around his neck, her breath catching as he kissed her like he’d been holding back since the moment she left.

“I missed you,” he murmured against her mouth. “I was worried. But more than anything… I’m proud of you. You did it. You came back to me.”

Saphira’s heart swelled, her fingers brushing his jaw, tracing the familiar curve of his cheek. “No matter what,” she whispered, “I’ll always return to you.”

They kissed again, deeper this time, and Nikolas pulled her gently onto the bed, his hands never leaving her. The world faded into warmth and breath and the quiet rhythm of belonging–no war, no

fear, just them.

And for the first time in days, Saphira let herself feel.

Morning broke in soft gold, spilling through the curtains in quiet streaks that painted the walls in warmth. Saphira stirred slowly, her cheek nestled against the steady rise and fall of Nikolas‘ chest. His arm was wrapped around her waist, firm and protective, fingers resting just above her hip like he hadn’t let go all night. For a few precious seconds, she didn’t move. Just breathed. This is peace. This

is mine.

The weight of the past few days still lingered in her limbs, but here, in this moment, it felt distant- like something she could finally begin to unpack.

Nikolas shifted beneath her, his breath brushing her hair as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “We’re meeting after breakfast,” he murmured, voice still thick with sleep. “To go over everything.”

Saphira nodded, her fingers tracing slow, idle circles on his skin. “Good,” she said softly. “I can’t see things moving slow now. Not after we were caught. Not after how we left Cassandra.”

Her voice was steady, but her thoughts weren’t. We exposed too much. Left too many threads dangling. And Cassandra… she won’t stay quiet.

Nikolas exhaled, his hand sliding up to rest against her shoulder, thumb brushing gently along her collarbone. “Raven gave me a rundown of what happened,” he said. “But I want to hear from you. How are you feeling?”

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Saphira hesitated, her gaze drifting to the ceiling. How am I feeling? Her body still ached, her mind replayed fragments of the confrontation like broken glass. But beneath the exhaustion and the regret, there was something steadier. Something earned.

“I regret not saying some things,” she admitted, voice low. “There were words I wanted to throw at Lupus. Things I needed him to hear. But… I stayed in control. And that surprised me.”

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Nikolas smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his touch lingering. “You’re the strongest

person I’ve ever met,” he said. “And when the time comes, I’ll make sure you have the chance to tell

them exactly how you feel.”

Her chest tightened–not with pain, but with gratitude. He sees me. All of me. Even the parts I’m still learning to hold.

They lay there a moment longer, wrapped in quiet comfort, before deciding to get up. Saphira

slipped into her robe, the fabric soft against her skin, and padded barefoot across the room. Nikolas pulled on a shirt, watching her with a quiet smile.

In the kitchen, they shared a quiet breakfast–warm toast, scrambled eggs, and soft laughter that felt

like sunlight. The conversation drifted to pack business: finances that needed reviewing, school

schedules for the children, training rotations that had fallen behind. Necessary. Normal.

After eating, they walked together to the office. The halls were still quiet, the house not yet fully

awake. Saphira stepped inside first, the familiar scent of parchment and wood polish. The room was

still, waiting.

She moved to the long table and pulled out a stack of blank paper, setting it neatly in front of her. Her fingers brushed the surface, steady and purposeful. Just in case. We’ll need to be ready. We always

1. do.

Nikolas sat beside her, his presence calm and unwavering.

And Saphira waited–ready to speak, ready to listen, ready to lead.