Disguise 71_The Matchmaker

CHAPTER 71 

 The silence stretched long and heavy–so thick it felt like a second presence in the room. Saphira stood near the window, one hand pressed lightly against the cool ss, her reflection staring back at her as if it might have the answers she didn’t. The sun was high now, casting angled light across the floor, but none of it reached the weight behind her ribs.

 Behind her, she could feel them watching.

 Anastasia–her mother–sat motionless in the hospital bed, though Saphira knew her eyes hadn’t left her since she’d fallen quiet.

 And Asher, off to her right, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then finally broke the quiet.

 “You okay?” he asked gently, voice just above a murmur.

 Saphira didn’t answer at first. She blinked, her throat dry, her mind spiralling through every fractured thought. But then she turned–slowly–and looked back at Anastasia.

 “You really didn’t know I was alive?” she asked, her voice firmer this time, butced with disbelief that she hadn’t been able to shake.

 Anastasia’s eyes softened. “No,” she said simply. “Not once. Not truly.”

 She folded her hands in herp, her fingers worrying over one another as she continued, “I had dreams, once. Glimpses, maybe. Moments where I wanted to believe. But they always felt like wishful thinking. Like grief ying tricks on me.”

 She paused, her throat working. “I lived with that silence for years.”

 Anastasia’s eyes shimmered softly, lost in some old memory. Her fingers fidgeted absently with the edge of the hospital nket as she spoke.

 “My best friend–Selene–she was the only one who stayed close after it all. She got pregnant shortly after I lost you,” her voice thickened, then steadied, “and when she had a daughter, she told me she felt this strange… pull toward a name. She chose ‘Zafira.“”

 Saphira’s breath caught sharply. She blinked, her heart flipping violently in her chest. “Selene?” she echoed. “Zafira?”

 Something fell into ce. A name. A face.

 “That’s–Niks‘ mother,” she whispered, straightening slightly as everything collided in her mind. “You’re talking about Niks‘ mother.”

 Anastasia’s expression shifted–relief, heartbreak, and something near disbelief flickering in her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. “That’s her.”

 Saphira stared, her pulse racing. “Zafira’s… named after me?” The words felt strange in her mouth–toorge, too staggering.

 Anastasia nodded. “Selene said it felt right. That it was a name for someone who was lost… and deserved to be found.”

 Saphira’s throat burned.

 The room had fallen quiet again, heavy with the kind of stillness that came after truth had beenid bare. Saphira stood just a few feet from Anastasia, but it felt like miles. Her arms hung loose at her sides now, drained of their earlier tension, but everything inside her felt like it was trembling.

 She finally let out a slow breath, her voice breaking the silence. “I need to think.”

 Anastasia blinked, nodding once, carefully. She didn’t press–not with words, not with anything. She just watched, eyes full of something heartbreakingly quiet.

 “It’s a lot,” Saphira added, swallowing the tightness in her throat. “I’m… grateful. That you told me. I’m d I finally know the truth.

 Her voice cracked slightly on truth. She wasn’t sure what that word even meant anymore.

 “But I need time. Just to process it all. 

 Anastasia’s lips parted slightly, like she wanted to reach across the space between them, but she nodded again instead. “Of course,” she whispered. “Take all the time you need.”

 Beside her, Asher took a step forward. “Do you need anything?” he asked gently.”

 Saphira shook her head. “No. I just need to be alone. For a bit.”

 Neither of them tried to stop her.

 She turned and walked out, her pace steady but her steps somehow too loud in the hallway. The moment the door shut behind her, the ache in her chest cracked open wider.

 She didn’t know where else to go–her body moved on instinct, guiding hér away from the weight of walls, of questions, of family.

 Back to the clearing.

 Her clearing.

 The sky had clouded slightly, a breeze tugging at strands of her hair as she made her way through the woods, her legs carrying her faster now, like her pain was trying to outrun her.

 Halfway there, the tears started. Silent at first, threading down her cheeks before she’d even realised, they’d broken free.

 “Hey–oh.”

 Saphira looked up through blurred vision to see Jed standing just ahead of her, a half–smile on his face that faded the moment he saw her. 

 “Are you okay?” he asked, voice softening.

 She sniffed quickly, wiping her cheeks with the heel of her palm. “Yeah. I’m fine.” 

 But her voice was too fast. Too light.

 Before he could ask again, she rushed past him, her breath catching in her chest.

 She didn’t stop until she reached the centre of the clearing. The same patch of earth where she’d first shifted. Where she’d first flown. Where pieces of her had started toe together.

 Now, she sat.

 Right there in the grass, knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around them.

 And let the tearse.

 The clearing held its breath around her.

 Saphira sat cross–legged in the grass, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, shoulders curled inward like she was trying to make herself smaller. The tears had slowed, but they hadn’t stopped–dripping quietly down her cheeks, carving salt tracks she didn’t bother to wipe away.

 She didn’t hear him at first.

 Not until the soft crunch of grass behind her shifted the air. A familiar rhythm. A familiar presence. 

 She didn’t lift her head, didn’t turn. She knew.

 Niks didn’t say a word.

 He just lowered himself onto the ground beside her with a quiet exhale, close but not touching. For a moment, he simply sat–still, patient, Waiting 

 Then, slowly, he reached out.

 His arm slid gently around her shoulders.

 Saphira’s breath hitched, and before she knew it, he was pulling her closer–easing her against his side, guiding her head to his chest.

 And she didn’t resist.

 The tension left her in a slow, unsteady exhale as her body leaned into his warmth. His shirt was soft, smelling faintly of pine and smoke and something safe. She felt his heartbeat under her cheek–steady. Strong.

 Her fingers gripped his jacket. Just lightly.

 And then she broke again.

 Not with the sharpness from earlier, not with shaking sobs–but with quiet, aching tears. The kind that came from deep inside, from the ces words couldn’t reach.

 Niks didn’t speak. Didn’t offer exnations or promises.

 He just held her.

 Let her be.

 And in the quiet hush of the clearing, beneath the weight of all she’d discovered–Saphira let herself cry.

 Just like this. For as long as she needed.

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Disguise 71