Page 15 of Falling for My Matchmaker

ThatBen.

Sitting at a table set for two, blinking in surprise, looking older—not drastically, but enough that I noticed the slightlines at the corners of his mouth, the sharper jawline he always insisted would “emerge with age.”

Apparently it had. Good for him.

“Diana,” he said, standing halfway, stunned.

“Ben,” I echoed.

There was a long pause. Not angry. Not awkward. Just...stunned silence.

Then I surprised both of us by smiling. “Wow. Okay. Hi.”

He laughed—soft and a little unsure. “Hi. I, uh, didn’t see a photo. I had no idea...”

“Same,” I said, gesturing toward the table. “May I?”

“Please,” he said, pulling out the chair like he’d never broken up with me over tacos.

I sat, smoothing my dress, heart thudding in a way I hadn’t expected.

Maybe this wasn’t a cosmic joke.

Maybe it was...a sign?

People change. People grow. Maybe the timing had just been off before. And maybe, just maybe, the algorithm had looped us back to each other for a reason.

It started...normal. Surprisingly normal. We ordered wine. Made awkward jokes about destiny and the horrors of adult dating. Ben commented on the tableware.

“Wow,” he said, turning the fork in his hand like it was a museum piece. “Actual silver. You can tell by the weight.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you afraid of vampires?”

He smiled. “Nah. Just...appreciate craftsmanship now, I guess.”

I told him I liked his jacket, even though I didn’t—it was trying way too hard to whisper “East Coast legacy,” when it screamedmy mom still buys my dress shoes.

He said I looked “elegant and intimidating,” which I chose to take as a compliment.

Somewhere between the appetizers and the wine, I tilted my head, gauging the moment, and said, “So. This is weird. But kind of...nice?”

Ben nodded, seeming sincere. “It is. Unexpected. But maybe a good unexpected.”

His eyes were warm. His tone was soft.

And for a flicker of a moment, I let myself believe it.

Until I decided to heal my past trauma.

“So,” I said carefully, “when we broke up, you said I was obsessive. Do you still think I was?”

Ben shrugged. “You kinda were. You always listened to these true-crime podcasts and thought everyone was an undercover killer or con. You used to check my Venmo history.”

“I was curious why you were paying someone named ‘Ariel’ three times a week.”

“She was my yoga instructor!”

“She had a flower emoji.”

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