Mismatched Novels & Stories

As soon as I made it in the door, Zaria begins to tell me that today wasn't going to get any better. I took a deep breathe and prepared myself for the mountain of bad news. "What happened?" I asked. "We mixed up two orders again and the big oven has gone out." She replied. I just couldn't believe my day. I went in my office and closed the door. I needed a moment to get myself together. I called my delivery guys and sent them back to the events they had delivered the cupcakes. I had them both switch addresses and had them deliver to the right customers. At this point was fustrated. I had to pause a minute. I felt a small headache coming on. I still needed the oven fixed.

He whispers softly, his breath fanning across my ear and cheek. "No," I reply, almost shouting for joy when my voice doesn't break or come out breathlessly. His smile gets wider. "I don't believe you." "Believe it." "I don't. Want to know why?" "Why?" I question, humoring him. "Because, matchstick," He leans in closer to whisper in my ear. "you're driving on the wrong side of the road."

I should’ve known better. Kael turned his attention to the council. His expression was unreadable. He took a deep breath before speaking. His voice was cold, so cold it sent a shiver down my spine. “The bond was a mistake. It was formed in weakness. The mate bond was never meant to be.” I froze when I heard those words. He continued, each word hitting harder than the last. “She is not my mate. I alpha kael reject the bond in front of this council and release her from any tie to me.”

And in the crackling of the firelight, with the storm howling outside, one question seared in my breast, louder than any thunder: If he really didn't want me... Why did it seem like his rejection was the most deadly type of want? "Why did his rejection hurt more than Andrew's betrayal?"

she asked, voice smooth as silk, eyes darting to the doctor, then landing on me like a blade. “There’s been a mistake,” Ryan said, chest still heaving. “They think I’m not a match.” Veronica’s expression didn’t flinch. Not even a blink. “That’s absurd.” Dr. Levin stepped forward. “It’s not a mistake. His blood type and antigens don’t match Mr. Blackwood’s. Your other son is a match.” Veronica gave a slow smile—one that could have been plastered on a magazine ad for manipulation. “I see. And you’re trusting Ethan’s word on this?”

Where I had introduced variance, she introduced direction. Where I had broken structure, she gave it meaning. The pulse beneath the ground faltered again. Harder this time. The expansion stuttered. The lines on Vale’s screen flickered wildly. “It is… conflicting,” Vale said, barely able to keep up. “Yes,” I breathed. “Because we are not the same.” The system tried to reconcile us. To map both inputs but it could not because we were not just different, we were contradictory. And contradiction could not be stabilized easily.

I said with a cracked voice, and continued to sob. "Don't you say that honey, you're amazing. And there is nothing wrong with you at all," she said trying to console me. "Then why such hateful rejection, Why didn't he say something earlier?" I sobbed, leaning on her shoulder. "I can feel what you're going through sweetheart, but..." I interrupted. "Really?" I asked looking up to see her face. "Yes and I..." I interrupted her again. "So you've been left standing at the alter before by someone you thought was your soulmate?" I asked anxiously with tears still dripping on my face.

"However, your and Mrs. Chriss' tissue types aren't compatible either. It's best to be prepared. Her bone marrow match may not—" "When will the results of the match be available?"

Unfortunately, that is NOT the question I needed answering. "I'm sorry. No. I've been Matched," I said, feeling lightheaded from the run…and probably from my Matching result as well. "It's just that, I think there's been a mistake." "Honey, the app never makes a mistake," she said firmly, emphasizing "never." Then, I showed her my Matching screen, showing the Prince's name.

To say the least, I was skeptical about the speed. When I opened his profile, I was surprised by the quality of the match. Both of us were Cancers (the sign, not the disease), we both liked hockey, we were both fitness fanatics, and we were both into older rock bands like Fleetwood Mac. We were perfect for each other, almost to the last detail. “He seems almost too perfect,” I said to Lily as we cleaned up the dishes for ladies’ night. “He must be a bot that the software made up based on my profile—”