The Matchmaker - The Arrax Saga Book 1 Chapter 57

Saphira stepped into the hospital, the sterile scent of antiseptic and faint hum of machines wrapping around her as she followed Asher and the nurse toward Zafira and Anastasia’s shared room.

The tension in the air was unmistakable, heavy with anticipation, laced with hope and unease all at once.

As she entered, her gaze immediately caught Nikolas, his eyes immediately locking onto hers like a tether pulling her in.

Without hesitation, he mirrored her movement, closing the space between them in an instant, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug.

Saphira melted into it for a moment, letting the warmth of him settle against her, in a way she hadn’t realized she needed.

His breath was steady against her ear as he whispered, “Have you had a good day?”

Saphira pulled back just enough to see his face, a soft smile spreading across her lips. “The best,” she admitted. “I think I have new friends.”

Nikolas’ expression shifted, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve heard it’s more like sisters,” he mused, amusement threading through his voice.

Saphira let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Yes, I guess it is.”

His grip loosened slightly, but the warmth of his presence remained. “I’m glad,” he murmured. “You deserve it.”

Saphira felt something settle inside her at that, something secure.

But the feeling was fleeting, quickly replaced by quiet concern as she fully pulled back, her gaze shifting toward the nurses gathered around Anastasia’s bed.

She watched them carefully, noting their movements. They weren’t rushing, they were working at a steady pace, focused on rousing her fully.

Relief flickered through her chest, but she forced herself to breathe, to wait.

Then, her attention drifted toward Zafira.

“Any update?” she asked Nikolas, her voice quieter now.

Nikolas followed her gaze, his expression dimming as he sighed.

“Nothing,” he admitted, his shoulders barely concealing the weight of exhaustion pressing into him.

Saphira inhaled deeply, stepping closer, her fingers brushing lightly against his forearm—a silent reassurance.

“She will wake,” she murmured, steady and certain.

Suddenly, beside them, the doctors stopped everything.

The quiet rustle of equipment, the soft beep of monitors, every movement, every adjustment halted in an instant.

Saphira tensed, the shift settling like static in the air, a barely-there hum of anticipation wrapping around her like a second skin.

Beside her, Nikolas straightened, his golden eyes narrowing, his muscles coiling beneath his stance like he was bracing for something. For what, she didn’t know.

But something was happening.

She turned toward Anastasia, watching closely, her pulse picking up speed.

A twitch in her fingers.

A faint crease between her brows.

Then slowly, painstakingly, her eyelids fluttered.

Saphira barely breathed, barely moved, heart pounding against her ribs like it wanted to climb out of her chest.

A fragile inhale.

An uneven exhale.

Then—

“Asher…”

The name left Anastasia’s lips as barely more than a rasp, weak but unmistakable, there.

Asher sucked in a sharp breath, stepping closer, his grip tightening around her frail hand, ensuring Anastasia knew he was there.

“Mum?” His voice cracked, hopeful, desperate, like he needed confirmation, needed her to say more, needed her to be here.

Anastasia’s gaze flickered open fully then, unfocused at first, searching, pulling toward something vital.

Until she found him.

Relief crashed into Asher so hard that his body shook from the force of it.

Without hesitation, he collapsed into her embrace, forehead pressing to her shoulder, fingers gripping her hospital gown like it was the only thing keeping him together.

Saphira felt the sharp pull in her chest, her dragon quiet but present, like it too was watching, waiting.

The emotion in the room clawed at her throat, raw and unfiltered.

Beside her, Nikolas stood rigid, unmoving, reverent in his silence.

Then Anastasia pulled back slightly, a shaky breath leaving her lips.

Her breathing was uneven, but her gaze was sharper now, clearer.

Her fingers curled weakly around Asher’s hand. “Are you alright?” she murmured, her voice still rough but carrying something solid beneath it.

Asher exhaled shakily, nodding, his grip pressing firmer against hers. “Yes,” he assured, his voice stronger now. “We’re safe. You’re safe.”

Anastasia sagged slightly against the pillows, her chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm, but she held his gaze, searching.

“How are you feeling?” Asher asked, cautious now, like he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

Saphira watched the flicker of hesitation cross Anastasia’s features, the way she tested herself, searching for the limits of her body, the edges of her pain.

Finally, after a long, deliberate pause, she exhaled.

“Weak, but I will be ok,” she murmured, squeezing his hand, barely more than a touch. “Now that I know you’re safe… I will be.”

Asher swallowed hard, nodding quickly, as if convincing himself at the same time.

Saphira let out a slow breath, feeling the pressure in her chest ease, the tension flicker away into something softer.

But then Anastasia moved again.

Not toward Asher.

Not toward the nurses.

Her gaze shifted, skipped right past Saphira—

And locked directly onto Nikolas.

Something in her expression changed.

Something unmistakable. Recognition. Familiarity.

And softly, with quiet certainty she spoke. “Nikolas.”

Saphira froze and Nikolas stiffened, his breath barely moving, his jaw clenching slightly in shock.

Asher’s head snapped up, confusion flashing across his features.

Saphira’s pulse stammered, breath hitching in her throat.

*How…?*

Nikolas had never met her. Yet, she knew his name.

Tension thickened, pressing into the space between them, unanswered questions coiling around Saphira’s ribs like vines, tightening, gripping.