A quick search later, I’m staring at a glossy homepage splashed with the words:
Find your fated match in one click—because even magic loves a good algorithm.
I snort.
“Sure. Like that’s real.”
But I can’t help scrolling.
It’s filled with testimonials.
Happy couples. Random people with silly names like VAMPYLVER and WitchySoulz, and other “unique individuals” talking about how they found their soulmates.
And the logo?
It’s the same heart-with-wings I saw glowing in my vision.
A shiver runs down my spine.
Maybe it’s a coincidence.
Maybe not.
“What have I got to lose?” I ask aloud, shrugging to no one but the leftover cookie scent in the air.
It’s not like my romantic life could get any worse.
My last relationship—if you can even call three dinner dates and one warehouse rendezvous a relationship—ended six weeks ago when I caught my flour supplier, Sal, spooning with his assistant behind the delivery truck.
I deleted his contact.
Changed suppliers.
Then, I vowed never to date anyone who uses the phrase bulk gluten procurement again.
And yet, here I am.
I thumb open the sign-up screen.
Name.
Birthday.
Species—Human, Witch, or Other?
Uh, what the what now?
I hesitate a moment before tapping Witch-adjacent, but figuring it out. Maybe these folks just like to cosplay a lot. Or maybe, like me, they’ve got a little something extra to offer.
The second I hit submit, the phone vibrates in my palm.
Ding.
You’ve got a match!
I blink. “Wait, what? Already?”
The screen flashes with soft blue light, and I swear I hear a faint chuckle somewhere in the room—a familiar, mischievous heh-heh-heh that sounds a lot like a certain magical busybody in a white suit.
