They didn't talk about love.
They talked about schedules.
When he asked how many nights a week she worked late, she answered without apology.
When she noticed that his phone never stopped vibrating, she didn't flinch.
It was a cool evening, an ordinary day after work.
Elle Hayes walked into the living room without turning on the lights. The house greeted her with silence, the kind she had grown used to, the kind she preferred. She slipped out of her shoes by the door and went straight upstairs, her movements unhurried, automatic.
The shower was warm, steady. She stood beneath the water longer than necessary, letting the day rinse off her shoulders. Meetings. Decisions. Conversations that required attention but no emotion. By the time she stepped out, wrapped in a towel, her mind had already moved on.
She changed into something comfortable and went back downstairs.
Dinner was waiting. Perfectly prepared. Thoughtful. Predictable.
Elle ate alone at the long dining table, her phone set aside, the television left off. She focused on the taste of the food, on the quiet rhythm of chewing, on nothing in particular. When she finished, she carried her plate to the kitchen herself despite having staff who could do it.
Afterward, she settled into the couch with a book she had read before. She liked familiar stories, no surprises, no effort. She read a few pages without really absorbing the words, then poured herself a glass of wine.
One glass. Never more.
By the time she went upstairs again, everything was exactly as it should be.
It was her routine, one she had perfected over time.
Elle went to bed at the same hour she always did. She placed her phone on the nightstand, turned off the lamp, and lay back against the pillows.
Normally, sleep came easily.
That night, it didn't.
She lay still, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the faint sounds of the city outside. A distant car horn. The hum of traffic far below. The house itself felt unusually large, the space around her more noticeable than before.
She shifted once. Then again.
Minutes passed. Then more.
It was strange, the way loneliness announced itself without warning. Not loudly. Not painfully. Just a quiet realization that settled in slowly, undeniably.
Elle had never thought of herself as lonely.
She had people around her constantly. Colleagues. Assistants. Acquaintances. Her days were full, her schedule tight. There was always something demanding her attention.
But lying there in the dark, she understood the difference between being busy and being accompanied.
She was alone.
The thought didn't frighten her. It didn't even upset her.
It simply… existed.
After a moment, she reached for her phone.
She unlocked the screen and scrolled without direction, more out of habit than intent. Contacts passed by. Old messages. Names she recognized and others she barely remembered.
Her thumb slowed.
Then stopped.
Laura Pierce — Matchmaker
Elle frowned slightly, as if surprised the name was still there.
They had met once, a long time ago, through a mutual acquaintance at a dinner she almost hadn't attended. Laura Pierce had been calm, observant, and entirely unassuming. She hadn't tried to sell anything. She had simply listened.
At the time, Elle hadn't thought much of it. She had been focused on work. She always was.
There were rumors, of course.
That Laura Pierce had an uncanny ability to match the right people together. That couples she introduced rarely separated. That she had a way of seeing what others overlooked.
Elle had never believed the rumors.
She didn't believe in guarantees, especially when it came to people.
Still, belief wasn't required to try.
She stared at the screen longer than necessary, considering the absurdity of it. Reaching out didn't mean commitment. It didn't mean hope. It meant… curiosity.
And perhaps practicality.
She typed carefully.
Are you still working?
The message sent without ceremony.
Elle placed the phone face down on the nightstand and turned onto her side. She didn't wait for a reply. She didn't expect one.
Sleep eventually found her, quiet and unremarkable.
Morning came early.
Elle woke to her alarm, rose from bed, and moved through her routine with practiced precision. Shower. Skincare. Coffee. She dressed in a tailored outfit that required no thought, her reflection in the mirror composed and unchanged.
By the time she left the house, the night before already felt distant.
The city was awake, traffic thick but moving. Elle settled into the back seat of her car, tablet in hand, scanning through her schedule for the day.
Meetings. Deadlines. Calls.
Her phone vibrated.
She glanced down.
Laura Pierce.
Elle didn't open the message immediately.
The car slowed as it approached a red light. She exhaled softly, then tapped the screen.
I am. And yes, I remember you.
Elle read it once. Then again.
Another message followed almost immediately.
If you're still interested, I may have someone suitable. No pressure. We can talk when you're ready.
There was no enthusiasm. No insistence.
Just quiet confidence.
The light turned green.
Elle locked her phone and placed it back on her lap, her gaze shifting to the passing city outside the window.
Her schedule for the day remained unchanged.
Yet something felt different.
For the first time in a long while, the routine she had perfected felt… slightly unsettled.
And she wasn't entirely sure she minded.