The air was thick with the bitter scent of espresso and disinfectant. The hospital's café wasn't known for comfort or taste, but it was the only nearby place that offered a brief escape. Aife sat across from Hazel at a small corner table by the window, cradling a disposable coffee cup in her hands. She hadn't slept properly in two days, and the fatigue was etched into the hollows beneath her eyes.
Hazel, in her usual casual flair—a cream cardigan over a printed T-shirt and messy bun—slid a second cup of coffee across the table with a suspiciously innocent smile.
"Alright," Hazel began, resting her chin on her palm. "Hear me out."
Aife didn't lift her eyes. "That's never a good start."
"I'm serious."
"You always are," Aife replied dryly, finally taking a sip. The warmth helped chase off some of the cold guilt still coiled in her chest.
Hazel leaned closer, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "What if I find you someone?"
Aife raised an eyebrow. "Find me what? A therapist? A hitman?"
Hazel grinned wider. "A husband."
The coffee went down the wrong pipe.
Aife coughed violently, pounding her chest as she gasped for air. A few heads turned. Hazel waited, completely unbothered, until Aife caught her breath.
"You want to what?" Aife hissed once she could speak again.
Hazel leaned back in her seat, cool as ever. "You heard me."
"You've lost your damn mind."
Hazel just shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm the only one actually trying to help."
Aife stared at her cousin, convinced this had to be one of Hazel's twisted jokes. "You can't be serious."
"Dead serious. Think about it. A deal. A contract. No messy feelings, no fairy tales. He gets money. You get peace. And most importantly—" Hazel paused for dramatic effect, "Mom gets her wish."
Aife blinked. "You're out of your mind."
"I've been called worse."
"This is ridiculous," Aife muttered, pushing her cup away. "Marriage isn't a business transaction. Even if I wanted to entertain this insanity, why would anyone agree to it?"
Hazel smirked. "You'd be surprised what desperation can do."
Aife shook her head. "No. Absolutely not."
"Fine," Hazel said, lifting her hands in surrender. "I'll drop it. For now."
But Aife knew that tone. Hazel didn't drop things. She shelved them temporarily and brought them back at just the right moment to cause maximum chaos.
The conversation hung in the air long after they parted ways that evening. Aife returned to her office late at night, claiming she needed to wrap up some urgent work, but she barely looked at her screen. The room was dark except for the faint glow of the city lights outside and the soft hum of the computer screen that had long gone to sleep.
She sat at her desk, elbows resting on the polished surface, phone in hand. Her thumb hovered over the screen, mindlessly flipping through her photos until one made her pause.
A picture of her mother.
Dahlia, dressed in soft pastels, smiling brightly under the sunlight during a rare vacation years ago. Her hand rested on Aife's shoulder in the photo, eyes brimming with pride and hope.
Aife sighed and leaned back, closing her eyes.
Her mother's voice echoed in her head—"I just want to see you loved before I go."
But love wasn't the problem. Aife had long since decided that love was unreliable, too soft, too fleeting. What she didn't know how to handle… was loneliness. The kind her mother had described. The kind that creeps in slowly, even when you're surrounded by noise, even when you're successful, even when you think you're doing everything right.
Her thumb hovered again… then tapped.
Hazel picked up on the second ring, her voice chipper. "Miss me already?"
"I swear to God, Hazel—" Aife started.
Hazel laughed. "I knew you'd come around."
"I haven't come around. I'm not agreeing to anything. I'm just—" she hesitated, hating the words even as they tumbled from her mouth. "Just find me a man stupid enough to accept a deal like this."
Hazel gasped dramatically. "Did Aife Cadell just ask for my matchmaking services? The CEO of 'I'd Rather Die Alone Inc.' herself?"
"Don't push it."
Hazel giggled. "Alright, alright. I'll find someone. I already have some leads. Liam mentioned his cousin knows a guy…"
"Of course he does," Aife mumbled. "This better not be someone with a criminal record."
"I mean… technically, no."
"Hazel."
"Don't worry, darling. I'm handling this like a professional." Hazel's voice turned softer. "Thank you for trusting me. You're doing the right thing, Aife. Maybe not the romantic thing, but… the right thing for you. For Aunt Dahlia."
Aife didn't respond. She didn't know what to say.
Maybe it was desperation. Maybe guilt. Maybe exhaustion. Maybe she was just tired of being strong all the time.
All she knew was this: for once in her life, she was letting someone else take the wheel.
And that terrified her more than anything.