The Alchemy

2015
Swipe left, left, left, left, right, ugh swipe left. “This is silly. Why did you have me sign up for this again?” I ask Lissa, who is sitting on the counter in the kitchen while I cook her favourite dinner. It’s been a few months since I split from my ex of nearly ten years, but I am in no rush to find another disappointment.

“Well, and I only say this because I am your friend, you need to get laid, and even if you go on a few dates and find nothing, you will still find nothing sitting in your house. Prince Charming will not break down your door!” “A girl can dream, can’t she?” I drop my phone on the counter, leaving the
unoccupied app open on the screen. I turn to stir the pot if only to give myself a moment to think about this again.

This is not going to end well.

“Lissa, I really don’t think this is a good idea. I’ve got so much going on right now and I am possibly still fucked up from the past breakup. God knows I have issues wide enough to fill the state.” “Stop that! Your ex was an idiot for cheating not once but freaking consistently, nonetheless, and if I may say, abusing you too. That idiot lost the best thing that happened to him and someone else deserves the chance to get to know you.”
“You know you can say ‘fucking’, right? I won’t tell your dad.” I smirk and turn back to the sauce while she sticks her tongue out at me. My best friend Lissa isn’t a prude; I know that because I have been there to take some blame for her shenanigans. I shake my head fondly at the thought. Yeah, and you would bail her out any day. Yes, yes, I would.

But she does like to maintain the ‘good girl’ façade for her parents, mainly her dad. “You are being fucking irritating when you try to change the subject,” Lisa retorts while sipping on her wine. My laugh rips through the room just as a loud bark comes from the living room. My head whips to the living room, and I peek through the kitchen door, listening intently for any crashing sounds. “Everything okay in there, boy?” “Yes, sis, it’s just me.” My sister’s voice flows through the door, and I turn to Lissa and roll my eyes. She laughs silently in the corner, hollering her hello to my sister.

“Just a few weeks, and then it’s just me and my chosen freeloader,” I whisper to Lissa and turn back to the food boiling on the stove. My phone lights up and I turn to it to see what it is. Lissa puts her glass of wine down, hops off the counter and comes to peek over my shoulder. “We know him,” I state as ‘Supermatch with Nyx’ flashes across my app, presenting both his and my pictures in intertwined circles. “Yes, we do. Isn’t that fate?”
“Ag, please do not start with that. A ‘Supermatch’ does not mean a damn true love connection. You have met this town, right?” “Yeah, fair enough.

But at least go into the conversation open-minded. He is actually a really nice person and my family knows his.” “All I am hearing in that is that you could have introduced me a long time ago and this whole fucking app thing could have been avoided.” I eye Lissa, folding my arms across my chest. “Okay, I guess you are right, but I never actually thought about it.” “No, you just wanted me to waste my time talking to deadbeat guys in our
town for the past week.” I laugh as I turn the stove off and take a sip of my wine. “Oh, don’t be so damn dramatic; you have only had that app for three days. But I will admit you spoke to more deadbeats than I knew were in this town, so sorry about that.” Lissa laughs and sips her wine.
“What I will give you is that you only have to message him if you want to. I will not pressure you on that. What I am surprised by is that I haven’t gotten a text from him asking about you.” I’ve never actually seen him around when I’ve been with you, to be fair. I don’t think he knows we know each other.”

“Ror, have you met this town?” Lissa throws my words back at me and I laugh. “Touché. Come on, dinner is ready.” “Yum, I have been waiting for this all day.” My phone pings with the app’s tone, but I ignore it and take my wine and dinner to the dining room. I yell that there is dinner on the stove in the direction of my sister’s room. A faint ‘thanks’ floats to me as I continue walking. “Aren’t you going to get that?” Lissa asks as we sit down. “No, would you ditch me for a message?” “I mean, maybe; depends on how hot he is.”

I laugh because she is probably right. I know she has, and I have even dropped her off at her ‘seasonal hot guy destination’ before. I’m just worried about putting myself out there and getting hurt again, even if he is hot. I take that back; even for a guy as handsome as Nyx is, I will approach this with caution, even if it is just a fling or one date. “What happens if it works out?” Lissa’s voice breaks through the fog, bringing me back to Earth.
“What if what works out?” I ask, spooning food into my mouth. The side glance says it all anyway, but she continues, “You and Nyx? What if you are compatible and it works out? What will you do?”

I spoon another mouthful, if only to give myself some time to think about it. Lissa knows I won’t speak with a mouth full of food; it’s unbecoming. My mother made sure I knew that. “I guess…I would crash and burn; it’s inevitable, isn’t it?” “He could love you back, you know.” Lissa sips her wine. “Yes, he could,” I retort, picking up my glass, “but I think you are getting way ahead of yourself.” “Well, yes, but I tell you what, no great tryst ever started with someone being rational.” Lissa raises her glass in a motion of cheers, eyeing me and tilting her head in a challenge.
My laugh slips through as I raise my glass to hers. “Fine, you win this round, but all this is talking; it may not even get past that stage. I refuse to be someone’s chew toy.” “No one said you should be, but promise you will give him a chance.

Guaranteed he will surprise you; he doesn’t show everyone the real him.” She clinks her glass with mine. I eye her thoughtfully. “Sounds like you know him well.” “Well enough.”

We finish our dinner in comfortable silence for the remainder of the evening before retreating to the living room to watch a rom-com and talk nonsense about her latest fling. I don’t see him lasting very long. He is way too much for her liking.
Personally, I would have kicked him to the kerb already. Lissa leaves a little after nine, and I retrieve my cell phone from the kitchen counter, heading back to my room. I swipe down, revealing a preview of the message I received earlier that evening.

Nyx: Hey, stranger, funny matching with you on here.

My response should’ve been immediate, but I had no idea what to say or do in that moment. What do you say to someone you ‘know’ but also to someone you don’t?

Aurora: Hey, I’ve seen stranger things happen in this town. So strange that it took an app, though, to get us to talk. Lol. How are you?

Setting my phone down, I run a bath, putting in oils and salts. I tie my hair up, undress and sink into the tub, relishing the smell of the salts and jasmine as it envelops my skin. I pick up my phone, scrolling through Facebook for a few minutes before
shutting the app and setting it back down. My mind is too busy to focus on even a soul-sucking task like social media. This could go either very right or very wrong. Closing my eyes, I sink further into the bath. A loud thud on the wall and a lick on my hand tell me I am no longer alone and that someone requires my attention. Peeking through one eye, two big hazel eyes watch me intently. His expression is curious and ever so happy, reflecting his temperament. Max is a chocolate lab who I swear is always smiling, but any sane person will tell me that I’m delusional and that’s just his face. They are the delusional ones. “Hungry boy?” I ask him with a soft expression. He responds with a lick of my hand and a jump, placing his paws on the edge of the bath, “Oh no, you don’t. I’m getting out first. What is it with you and water?” Patting his head, I stand and wrap a towel around me.

Max has a thing for water, to the point where I have to lock the back garden gate to stop him from swimming until he died. I wish I were exaggerating, but the truth is, he nearly did; he exhausted himself so much and was stuck in the deep end of the pool. I damn near died that day, too, of heart failure.

My phone pings, eliciting a yelp from me and a bark from Max, nearly sending me to an early grave. My heart is pounding. I’ve been jumpy ever since the separation. For good reason—my ex is a raging asshole, emphasis on the raging. The message is from Nyx. Max barks one more time, letting me know that his patience has run out and that food needs to be served in the next few minutes if I want to avoid a frenzy.
“Fine!” I sigh. “Food first, message later. You happy?” Bark. Thought so.

Nyx: I’m good. How come you are on here? I thought you were in a long-term relationship.

I read back the message over and over again, wondering if it’s too forward. This is a dating app. Nothing is too private. Is it? I go over her profile one more time. I have met her in passing before; she is beautiful and funny, a little shy but nice. I think we have had a conversation once, in a group setting, though. She was dating that asshole Wilder for a long period of time. I thought she was still with him. Last I heard, he was telling everyone that they were still together. At least that is what Jake told me. He is supposed to be close to the prick. Lord knows why he is. He is a royal-class douchebag.

Tossing my phone onto the bench, clattering against my water bottle, the sound echoes in the empty space of the gym. The usual adrenaline buzz of my boxing workout calls to me, the perfect distraction from the nagging curiosity of
a reply. Sliding my hands into the well-worn wraps, I tighten the fabric around my
wrists. The rhythmic routine of gearing up centres me. The heavy bag sways slightly as I give it an experimental jab, feeling the satisfying impact reverberate up my arm and soothe my soul.

One-two. Jab. Uppercut. Duck.

The combinations flow effortlessly, a symphony of movement and power. My breath evens out as I hit a steady rhythm. Thoughts of Aurora linger at the edge of my mind, but I let the punching bag take the brunt of my energy. It’s not long before my phone buzzes on the bench. I glance over mid-combination. Normally, I wouldn’t even bother with my phone mid-workout, but curiosity is getting the best of me and my sanity. I finish my set with a hard right cross, grab my phone with one hand and swipe open the notification.

Aurora: Hey, Nyx. Good question! I keep asking Lissa that. Wilder and I split about six months ago. He still tells people we’re together because, well… he’s Wilder. I’m renting a place with my sister now, and I have Max to keep me sane. Big goofy dog, if you’re wondering. What about you? What brings you on here?

A small smile creeps onto my face. Max. I’ve seen him in the photos she’s posted—a big brown Labrador with an oversized personality if her captions are anything to go by. Her story on Wilder tracks. He’s always been a manipulative jerk, the type to spin his own narrative to save face. Jake swears there’s more to him, but I’ve never seen it. I towel the sweat off my face and sit on the bench, thumbs already flying across the screen.

Nyx: That makes sense. Wilder’s always been… creative with the truth. Sorry you had to deal with that. Max sounds awesome—Lab, right? Seems like you’ve got a good setup. I’m here because I’ve been too focused on work for a while. Figured it was time to see what’s out there.

I hit send and lean back, stretching out my legs and catching my breath. My body is relaxed from the workout, but my mind is alight with anticipation. My phone buzzes again.

Aurora: Yeah, Max’s my buddy. Glad you’re branching out. I’d say it’s a good call—sometimes work can’t be everything.

There’s a warmth in her messages that feels genuine, even if we’re just scratching the surface.

Nyx: That doesn’t sound so bad. Yup, balance is key, right? What kind of work do you do?

It’s a simple question, but I want to know more. About her. About Max. About her life without Wilder.
The heavy bag sways gently in the corner of the gym. I shower and head home. I find myself in my studio hours later, making changes to blueprints of the same deal I have been working on for months. After a few more minutes, my phone pings, sending my heart rate through the roof, and a faint flare of my pencil proves the line is no longer straight.

Aurora: I work in publishing, mainly as an editor and freelancer, but in my dreams, I am an aspiring author. Long shot, but a shot nonetheless. You are an architect, right?
Nyx: Yeah, I am an architect. Making my way up the ladder for now, and then going to open my own thing soon. What are you up to? Why are you up
so late?

The response isn’t instant, and I assume she has fallen asleep. It is after midnight, after all. I, on the other hand, have had some trouble sleeping for a while now. The next morning, her reply lights up my screen, but I’m already running late. The message is there, sitting unopened, tempting me, but I shove my phone into my pocket. Work comes first and today’s meeting is too important to risk being distracted.

I arrive at the client’s office, a modern skyscraper with sleek glass panels that gleam under the morning sun. Inside, the lobby hums with quiet efficiency—receptionists answering calls, people moving with purpose. The meeting room I’m directed to is equally polished, featuring a minimalist design of neutral tones and clean lines. My client, a middle-aged woman named Christine Price, is waiting with her team. Christine runs a boutique hotel chain, and her presence commands attention. She’s sharp, professional, and decisive—someone who knows exactly what she wants.

“Nyx, good to finally meet you in person,” she says as we shake hands. Her grip is firm, her smile polite, but it screams no-nonsense. “Likewise,” I reply. The discussion is intense, focusing on the design for her newest flagship hotel. She has a vision—modern, luxurious, yet warm and inviting—and I’ve come prepared with sketches and concepts that I hope align with her goals. “Your designs are impressive,” Christine says as she studies the renderings I’ve laid out. “I appreciate the attention to detail.

This lounge area, for example, is exactly the kind of statement piece we want.” I nod, my confidence building. “I wanted to create a space that feels both sophisticated and approachable. A place people want to linger, not just pass through.” She nods thoughtfully. “You’ve captured that well. Let’s move forward with these adjustments, but I want a stronger focus on sustainability. Can we incorporate more eco-friendly materials without compromising the aesthetic?” “Absolutely,” I say, already brainstorming possibilities. By the time the meeting ends, I feel a rush of satisfaction. Christine seems pleased, and her team is enthusiastic about the direction we’re heading. Back at my office, I finally pull out my phone and open Aurora’s message.

Aurora: Morning! Sorry, I passed out mid-text. Late nights are a hazard of editing sometimes. I’m currently working on a romance thriller manuscript—lots of suspense, hidden motives, and twists. My pacing needs work, so that’s my focus right now. What about you? How’s the architecture world treating you?

Her words bring a smile to my face. I fire off a reply.

Nyx: Late nights editing sound intense but kind of cool. I bet pacing is tricky to get right. What’s the book about? And yeah, architecture’s treating me well. Just came out of a big meeting with a client—a boutique hotel chain looking for a standout design.

It doesn’t take long for her response to come through this time.

Aurora: A boutique hotel chain? That sounds so fancy. You must be good at what you do if they’re trusting you with something like that. I can’t give away the storyline; then you wouldn’t have the satisfaction of reading it to find out—think dark secrets, danger, spicy scenes and a little bit of moral ambiguity. Whether I publish or not is a whole different story.

I lean back in my chair, picturing Aurora working late into the night, surrounded by stacks of notes and drafts.

Nyx: That does sound fun—and intense. Do you prefer editing or writing your own?

Her reply comes quickly, as though she’s just as invested in the conversation as I am.

Aurora: Editing is great because there is no need for plot development and wondering what your next words will be. But writing keeps you on your toes. Something about creating whole worlds or diving into characters’ relationships is so rewarding. What about you? If you weren’t designing buildings, what would you do?

I pause, considering her question.

Nyx: Hard to say. I’ve always been drawn to creative work, so maybe something like photography or graphic design. Building something from nothing feels satisfying, you know? Going back to your question, why wouldn’t you publish?

As I hit send, I realise how easy it feels to talk to her. Aurora doesn’t just answer questions—she pulls me into her world, and I find myself wanting to stay there a little longer.
**