The Matchmaker (by Sophie Smith) novel Chapter 81

CHAPTER 81

The hallway outside Anastasia’s room was quiet, dust motes floating lazily through the morning sunbeams filtering in from the high windows, Saphira stood just outside the door, staring at the polished wood like it might speak first. Her fingers twitched at her side before she raised one hand and knocked–three soft taps.

“Just a second,” came Anastasia’s voice, faint but clear through the door.

Saphira’s breath caught. No turning back now.

The door opened moments later with a soft creak. Anastasia stood framed in the light from the window behind her, dressed in pale grey, her hair loose around her shoulders. She blinked, surprised.

“Saphira.” There was no accusation in her tone–just open surprise. Saphira swallowed and met her gaze.

“Hi,” she said, voice quiet. “Um… can we talk?”

Anastasia didn’t hesitate long. “Of course.” She stepped aside, opening the door wider. “Come in.”

Saphira nodded, stepping past the threshold, shoulders tight but held straight. The room was simple–light, clean lines, with soft grey and cream accents.

“It’s lovely,” Saphira said, gesturing to the space, her voice softer now. “Peaceful.”

Anastasia offered a smile, brief but warm. “Thank you. I’m… thankful for it. It’s the first time in a long while I’ve had a space to breathe.”

They moved toward the table, Saphira running her fingers lightly over the back of the chair before sitting. Anastasia joined her across from it.

Anastasia didn’t push. Just waited–hands folded neatly in her lap, watching her with a kind of reverent patience. Then, finally, her voice broke the silence,

soft and tentative.

“How are you?”

Saphira looked up, her gaze met Anastasia’s fully now, and for the first time, she let herself really look.

The resemblance struck her–not a mirror, but a shared softness around the eyes, something in the curve of the cheekbones. That same golden hue, laced with thought and weight and possibility.

“I used to wonder,” Saphira said, voice quiet. “If I had my mother’s eyes.”

She exhaled a slow breath. “Now I know.”

Anastasia’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t speak–her hands tightening just once in her lap.

“It’s been… a lot,” Saphira continued, the words feeling easier now. “More than I knew to prepare for. But out of everything that’s shifted recently… learning about you? It’s somehow the easiest part to adjust to. Like it settled into place instead of making the ground move.”

She gave a small, self–conscious smile. “So… If you’re willing, I’d like to try. To build something. Slowly.”

Anastasia blinked, and for a moment, her whole posture seemed to ripple–shoulders drawn tight with disbelief, eyes brightening with stunned relief. “I’d love that,” she whispered. “And I’ll go as slowly as you need me to. No expectations. Just… time.”

Saphira nodded, something soft catching beneath her ribs–like a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding had finally let go.

A moment passed, and then Anastasia tilted her head. “Did… did Lupus raise you well?”

The question came carefully, like it might bruise to say aloud.

“I was always the odd one out in the pack, Saphira said. Her voice didn’t tremble, but each word carried the weight of remembered edges. “Lupus raised me, but I never felt like I belonged–not really. I wasn’t mistreated. Things weren’t… awful. But they weren’t good either. Not when you’re always the outsider in your own family.”

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CHAPTER 81

She looked up, meeting Anastasia’s golden gaze. “Especially not with Ruby.”

At the name, Anastasia’s brows knit gently, but she said nothing, letting her continue.

“She hated me. Resented me from the start. I tried gods, I tried so hard to stay out of her way.” Her voice thinned. “Put on the night that I turned righteen… I didn’t shift. Of course, I know why now.”

Her chest tightened as the memory crept in, unwelcome but familiar. “Anyway, that night… Ruby framed me. For killing our half–brother Cannon. All because he was the only one to stick up for me and liked me I guess.”

A silence fell like a held breath.

Saphira’s gaze dropped to her lap. “He’s alive, by the way. He goes by Einn now. He’s part of this pack too, we were reunited when I arrived.” A ghost of disbelief flickered across her expression. “He lost his memory, he fell from a high cliff, it should have killed him. I am just so glad he survived, and we are doing good now.”

“But eventually I was exiled. The pack assumed I was human–or worse, broken. And when enough time passed and I still didn’t shift, they saw an opportunity.” Her voice grew quieter, edged with something darker. “They sent me to the Matchmaker. Said they had no choice.”

She looked up again, eyes steady.

“But I knew. I knew. That was how they planned to get rid of me for good.”

Anastasia covered her mouth briefly, eyes shining with horror and something deeper–grief, maybe.

But Saphira just sat straighter, braver now, as if speaking it aloud had finally loosened the last knot in her ribs. “That’s the truth. All of it. I’m sorry.”

She blinked rapidly, inhaling as if she might speak, but the words tangled before they ever found shape. Her shoulders trembled, barely perceptible at first, and then-

“I should be saying sorry,” she whispered. “I should be. I am.”

Saphira stayed still, watching her. Not flinching. Not rushing.

“I should’ve pushed harder,” Anastasia continued, voice beginning to fray at the edges. “I should have known something wasn’t right–should have searched. Fought. I thought I was doing what was best, but they told me-” Her words stuttered, grief and guilt unraveling into urgency. “They told me you were- gone. They said she’d been stillborn–said there was no hope. And I… I let them decide what I should believe. I trusted-”

“Hey,” Saphira said softly, reaching across the small table to take both of Anastasia’s hands in hers. Her fingers were warm, steady. “Stop.”

Anastasia looked at her, mouth still parted, breath uneven.

Saphira held her gaze. “You trusted people who deceived you. That’s not weakness. That’s love used against you. And yes, they’ll pay for it–eventually. But right now? That’s not what matters.”

She squeezed Anastasia’s hands gently, anchoring her. “What matters is that all of that pain–those years–still led me here. To Nikolas. To Finn. And now… to you.”

A beat passed. Then another.

“I’m not broken anymore,” Saphira said, her voice steadier now, stronger. “I’m home. And I’m more myself than I ever thought I’d be.”

Anastasia nodded, lower lip trembling as she tried to swallow the storm inside her. “I’ll help you,” she said, voice breaking. “However I can. With everything. Whatever you need–I will do all in my power to make it right.”