The Matchmaker (by Sophie Smith) novel Chapter 65

CHAPTER 65

The room was quiet, the steady hum of monitors filling the space as Saphira settled back into her chair, stretching out the stiffness in bar demid

Zafira sat upright, her posture still weary but undeniably alert now,

She had been watching Saphira for a while–long enough for it to feel intentional, like she was waiting for the right moment.

Then-

“So,” Zafira murmured, her voice still a little rough but carrying unmistakable curiosity. “What’s going on between you and Nikolas?”

Saphira inhaled, tension coiling instantly.

Zafira wasn’t easing into this.

She glanced away briefly, rubbing her fingers against her palm. “That’s–complicated.”

Zafira arched a brow.

“I’ve got time,” she countered.

Saphira huffed lightly, shaking her head, almost amused. “You just got your voice back–don’t you want to talk about literally anything else?”

Zafira tilted her head, unbothered. “No.”

Saphira sighed.

She knew Zafira wasn’t going to let this go.

She felt it in the way she leaned forward slightly, the sharpness in her eyes, the stubborn set of her jaw.

So–finally–she relented.

“I was paired with Nikolas in the Matchmaker,” she admitted, her voice even but carrying the weight of it. “When we left, he had a choice–to mark me, or to kill me.”

Zafira stilled, her body going rigid, the shock flashing visibly across her face.

“…And he marked you?”

Saphira nodded slowly.

Zafira exhaled sharply, shaking her head in disbelief. “So–you’re forced mates?”

Saphira hesitated, watching the way Zafira processed the information.

Forced.

It wasn’t wrong, not technically—but it wasn’t right either.

Because something had happened between them/in the Matchmaker.

Something different.

“At first, it felt that way,” she admitted, keeping her voice measured. “But while we were in the Matchmaker, before he even marked me-” She paused, inhaling slowly. “We bonded. In a weird way.”

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CHAPTER 65

Zafira furrowed her brows, searching her face.

Saphira continued, forcing herself to explain.

“It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t just some forced connection. It was… something else. Something neither of us understood at the time

Zafira narrowed her eyes slightly, absorbing the information but not entirely convinced.

“Then how do you know it’s real?”

Saphira swallowed, exhaling slowly before meeting Zafira’s gaze fully.

“Without going into details,” she murmured, “we realised we were true mates when I transformed into a dragon for the first time.

Zafira blinked.

Zafira shifted slightly in the hospital bed, her movements still slow but undeniably steadier. Her voice was still rough, but there was curiosity threading through it now–something quieter, more personal.

“Did you know?” she asked, her gaze locking onto Saphira’s with something searching. “That you were a dragon?”

Saphira inhaled, adjusting her position in the chair, fingers tapping absently against the armrest.

“No,” she admitted, shaking her head slightly. “I thought I was human.”

Zafira frowned, tilting her head, watching her carefully.

Saphira let out a slow breath, rubbing her palms against her jeans, grounding herself.

“My father was a werewolf,” she explained, her voice even, carrying the weight of memory. “I grew up in a wolf pack–lived my entire life surrounded by them. And I never had any indication that I was supernatural.”

Zafira narrowed her eyes slightly, absorbing the words, considering.

“No signs?” she pressed. “Nothing at all?”

Saphira huffed lightly, shaking her head again. “None. No instincts, no shifting–nothing. I felt human.”

Zafira’s brows knit together, her expression lined with thought.

Saphira could see the questions forming behind her eyes–the how and why of it all.

Zafira studied Saphira for another long moment, her gaze sharp, questioning–but after a beat, she simply nodded, her expression shifting into something more neutral.

Saphira exhaled, tension slowly easing from her shoulders. Thank the gods. She had expected more pressing, more insistence–Zafira wasn’t exactly known for letting things go easily.

But tonight–tonight, she did.

Without another word, Saphira handed Zafira her food, pulling her own container closer, the warmth settling into her palms.

They both focused on eating, the quiet between them no longer charged–just companionable.

It was a silent understanding. The conversation wasn’t over.

The room had settled into silence, save for the quiet hum of monitors and the soft, rhythmic breathing of Zafira as she slept.

Saphira sat near the far end, arms crossed lightly, her own exhaustion pressing against her–but she remained present. Watching.

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Then–the door creaked open.

Nikolas stepped inside, his movements careful, steady, as if mindful of disturbing the peace that had settled over the space. His gouden es heard toward her first, scanning her expression with practiced ease.

“How are you?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

Saphira exhaled, rubbing her palm against her arm before responding. “I’m fine.”

Nikolas studied her for a fraction longer, then glanced toward the bed.

“And Zafira?”

Saphira opened her mouth, ready to tell him-

Then-

“Nikolas.”

The voice was soft but unmistakable.

Nikolas froze.

His head snapped toward Zafira, who had stirred, her eyes fluttering open, present.

For a heartbeat, he didn’t move.

Then–his entire expression shifted.

Relief. Shock. Happiness.

“You can talk?” he said, already moving toward her bedside, his voice threaded with disbelief.

Zafira gave a small, tired smile, her tone still hoarse but there. “Seems like it.”

Nikolas let out a breath–half–laugh, half–exhale–before shaking his head lightly, brushing a hand through his hair, as if trying to process it

“Finally,” he murmured, warmth seeping into his voice.

Then–Zafira shifted her gaze toward Saphira, her lips twitching slightly.

“I like your mate,” she said, her voice lined with quiet amusement, before sending Saphira a pointed wink.

Saphira huffed, shaking her head, almost laughing.

Nikolas blinked–then glanced toward her, eyes narrowing slightly as if registering the teasing.

Saphira shrugged, playing innocent.

Nikolas exhaled slowly, still standing close to Zafira’s bedside, his fingers brushing lightly against her hand as if grounding himself in the fact that she was really awake. That she was here.

His eyes flickered with warmth, but beneath it, there was something else–something heavy.

“I can’t wait for you to be home,” he murmured, voice quiet but lined with undeniable conviction. “So things can get back to normal- He huffed lightly. shaking his head. “Or as normal as they can, anyway.”

Zafira gave him a small, knowing smile, though there was exhaustion still lingering in her expression.

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CHAPTER 65

Saphira watched the exchange from her spot at the far end of the room, a warmth settling deep in her chess

Zafira had fought–had pushed through–had survived.

And now, they were talking about going home.

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