"Cat!"

I hear her, but force my eyes to stay closed – I want to sleep just a little longer, just an extra ounce of sleep is all I need before accepting the reality that awaits me as soon as my tired eyes crack open.

"Catherine Lewis! Wake up!" Paying Celia's threatening tone no attention, I move closer to the edge of the bed and hug my pillow tighter. My acute sense of morning hearing catches her grunting out of frustration and the next thing I feel, is a pillow slamming into the side of my face.

I hate, no loathe, nope. DETEST morning people.

Opening my eyes, I send her a glare in my sleepy state. Unzipping the sleeping bag, I grab a knitted sweater and quickly put on a pair of thick socks as the apartment was back to its depressingly cold atmosphere.

"What?" I finally ask, facing her in annoyance.

"It's almost two in the afternoon and I'm starving!"

Groaning, I roll my eyes, "right, I keep forgetting you're hopeless in the kitchen."

"Hey! Excuse me for not being your typical, ideal woman." Eyeing her arms as she picks up another pillow, I take in the noticeable goosebumps fleshed out on her arms and silently hand her a sweater. My friend was actually quite understanding, being in a business together brought us even closer and this is more so the case when money is tight, your partner is the one who feels the same pains and burdens as you.

She would never openly complain about my economic efforts to save money, but of course I knew that just because she didn't vocally claim that our meagre earnings and operations were an issue, it still affected her nevertheless.

"Is it okay if I stick around and catch up on some work?" She asks, gratefully throwing on the sweater. Shrugging my shoulders, I walk into the kitchen to make her a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of tea to warm her up. I was fortunate to have packets of leftover instant oatmeal; it was relatively cheap and on sale – two things that appeal to me the most other than oatmeal being filling enough to get us through till later in the day.

"Stay if you want, I'm going to spend the rest of the day working anyways," succeeding to convey this through a mouth foaming with toothpaste as I brush my teeth and begin my working day off with an extremely late morning.

"Any new clients?"

Taking out my phone and putting on my glasses, I connect to Wi-Fi and skim through my emails, "we do have two new possible clients. I'll have to message them later."

"What about the Simmons case?"

Shaking my head, I offer Celia a glum look, "That's a fairly hopeless cause, we have two matches for him but he's a tough one. He might not warm up to the idea of decent girls his age, the rebel in him will want to sleep around and play with older women."

"I can't believe his parents let him go around doing such disgusting things."

"Well, sometimes a taste of freedom leads to an abuse of freedom. Take my neighbour, the country's golden boy for example, he made a faulty mistake and has to pay the price for it."

"I don't think that's fair Cat, at least Zander's trying to fix his 'problem' Simmons could learn from him."

"Maybe I'm being mean, but it shouldn't be this hard to stay out of trouble considering how most of the people on this earth manage to do just that. Zander needs to learn to cool off for a bit because suddenly dropping a bomb like needing to find a matchmaker, on the leader of this country can't be easy." After a moment I can't help but add, "But I'll admit, it can't be easy for him either, considering who his parents are..." 

"Oh. So has he penetrated your walls a little?" Her face lights up, she doesn't ask me teasingly but out of genuine curiosity.

"I don't know," I admit honestly.

"Well, one thing's for sure. You've definitely perked his interest."

"Are you kidding? I almost had a heart attack when he said my real name! Somehow when we were downstairs he addressed me by my full name and I thought he'd figured everything out."

"Oh? When did this happen?"

I'm about to tell her, 'when I met the First Lady' but then suddenly remember that my more compassionate side decided to keep that a secret. "In passing, when he dragged me downstairs for no reason. I really thought he figured out who I was and what I did for a living."

"And how did he figure it out?"

"He said he got a glimpse of the mail Ms. Zhao brought up for me, I suppose it's a completely normal thing to do."

"He's smarter than he lets on then," Celia muses. My thoughts exactly, I initially thought Zander was a dense, no good playboy but after making a sharp observation like that, I need to be extra careful around him if I want to keep my identity to remain a complete secret.

Drawing the tips of my fingers together, my expression turns grim, "We'll just have to continue to be cautious." Nodding in agreement, she finishes her breakfast first and pulls out a journal from her handbag – it contains all her notes when she does her 'stakeouts' and flops down on the couch to get some work done.

Once I'm done eating, I follow in pursuit and place the dishes in the sink then head for my desk and fire up my laptop. Logging into my email account, I'm not even surprised to see a flood of emails from Mrs. Simmons who urgently asks me to find her son's match before he shames his family name. Sighing, I send her a more lengthy and clipped reply. Our business was done but since she's obligated to pay for the services given to her, I promise to send her files with her son's matches and all the information related to them – It could do no harm since the files are fairly useless now.

Deleting her other messages, I open a few new ones and read them through before cracking my fingers and typing in each match(ee)s name and searching up their families.

"Do you still have the file on the Johnston girl?" Celia asks into the air.

"Yeah, why?" 

Looking up from my laptop screen, I glance over at Celia who has her face submerged into her journal, a frown on her face, "I think it's better to get her case over with now than later."

"Why's that?"

"She applied to do a study abroad program for two years. It's easier to find her match now then to wait two years for her to come back, and besides, if we don't do her case now, we might never find her match. You know as well as I do that the probability of her coming back with a mindset for a relationship will be low."

Sighing, I roll my chair towards my filing cabinet and pull out her file, scanning through it's contents, "your right, I guess we could match her up with another one of our current match(ee)s, the number of males to females is piling up."

"Figures, good girls either get themselves a career or a man that's a keeper."

"Are you still going to be so bitter?" I demand frankly. Celia is still embittered by her youthful college romance gone astray since the man she had her sights on decided to embark on an adventure that would separate them for five years, long distance a grim option with faulty connection that would severe communication and make it impossible.

"Shut up! You know I have every right to!"

"I'm not saying you don't! It's just taking a toll on your mood and attitude."

"Cat, let's not even bring up the past. Please?"

"Okay, fine. We'll stick to talking about business. You'll need to go to another event tomorrow. I'm going to email one of our newer clients, you won't need to take thorough notes but just observe her daughter for a brief profile."

"Fantastic. More fine wine and food," grinning, she rubs her hands in anticipation as the thought of fine wine was too enticing not to be elated about. Smiling, I shake my head and resume typing when a sudden knock at the door startles me. Glancing back at Celia, she just shrugs her shoulders and continues to read her journal.

Shutting the laptop screen off, I quickly run to the door and look through the peephole.

Grunting, I bite down on my lip, "why can't he just go away?" I whisper under my breath.

 Opening it a fraction of the way, Zander grins down at me, "morning Cupca - Catherine."

"Um, good morning," I mumble, shuffling uncomfortably because my hair was untamed and stacked on top of my head in a messy bun and my eyes had dark circles underneath but my bout of shyness was also seeded in the fact that Zander kept his word to address me by my name.

"Can I come in or no?"

"I'm actually working," I blurt out.

 This is obviously a mistake for his eyebrows shoot up in curiosity and the sudden mischievous gleam in green eyes is all too apparent, "So you work at home?"

"Erm, I think you should leave. I'm a bit busy and it's still kind of early."

"Avoiding the subject?"

"I...I'm – I'm not."

"Right. It's cool, if you don't want to tell me about all this secretive editor work you do." Making a sour face, he chuckles at my reaction and shakes his head. 

"Ah, here you go," pulling out a white grocery bag from behind him, he hands it over to me, peering in I find a box of cupcake mix and some vanilla icing.

"I'll compensate you for eating all your cupcakes."

"Uh, thanks," I reply mildly, surprised that Zander wasn't about to rob me of cupcakes and dwindle my baking supply stock but 'eating' was putting it mildly when I recall witnessing him cramming his mouth full of cupcakes.

"I also wanted to let you know that my Dad will be keeping tabs on you, his Secretary will be around so just ignore him."

"Why?" I ask cautiously, Zander's face turning sullen.

"Because he'll try and worm out information from you. Look, my Dad sends people out to do his dirty work, he finds it necessary to know every minuscule detail about my life behind my back."

"Oh."

Giving an exasperated sigh, his eyes plead with me, "I'm sorry about last night and for invading your privacy. But I do really need your help neighbour."

He had an extremely funny if not offensive way of getting someone involved. His desperation now for help skewed, all things considered. Despite this, I can't turn a blind eye since I'm aware of how his parents view his position within this hushed up scandal that was yet to be fully divulged and with that, I give in, "Okay then, I can meet you around four and we can start looking for this matchmaker."

"Thanks."

There's an awkward pause before he rubs the back of his neck, "listen there's something else I have to ask you."

"What's that?" Tilting my head and adjusting my glasses, I look up curiously.

"How come you don't go out or meet any of the other neighbours? The girl who lives next door says you've never even said hello before." 

How can I tell him that it isn't necessarily that I won't say neighbourly greetings, but rather that I can't. I can't afford to have anyone discovering who I might be in case they decided a neighbourly relationship wasn't as valuable as potential blackmail or public fame for uncovering the identity of a matchmaker. Granted, this may appear to be dramatic but a pleasant 'hello' could easily result in a neighbour intruding or arriving unannounced, hospitable wishes in the halls somehow giving them the permission to enter my apartment.

"I'm not much of a friendly person, I guess," I remark quietly, casting my eyes to the floor.

He doesn't say a word, and the air becomes stifling. With reluctance, I glance up to find green eyes boring into me, assessing me for something, "I find that really hard to believe Catherine." 

Gulping, my eyes widen at the husky softness of his voice and I can already sense the heat rising to my cheeks. "It's true, I'm not a people person," I admit more truthfully.

"Then it's their loss."

"Um, thanks for the cupcake stuff. I'll see you at four," shutting the door all too quickly, I lean against it and sigh in relief.

"You okay?" Celia asks from the couch, still engrossed into her journal.

"Yeah... yeah I'm fine."

"What did he want?"

"Just figuring out a time to meet up to go matchmaker hunting."

"Oh. Well, just make sure to avoid Randy and you should be fine."

"...Yeah." My heart is still reeling at what just happened – I think it's safer if he continues to call me Cupcake instead of Catherine. My face feels as if it's been set ablaze and my legs like mush. I'm going to have to learn to be impassive, but because I'm so timid and quiet I usually wear my heart on my sleeve and my emotions tend to showcase themselves at the worst of times.

Grunting, I march back to my desk and plop myself down in the chair – I need to work. It's the best way to ease my mind and this stupid beating heart of mine that disagrees with everything my brain has to say.

"You know Cat, this is just a suggestion but instead of hunting for this matchmaker, you could always go on a date with Zander to find out what he likes in a girl. I'm sure he'd have no objections." 

Swivelling my chair to face her smug face, I glare at her with daggers flying out of my eyes, "Don't make me stab you with this pen."

"It was just a suggestion! I mean it's a lot easier, right?"

"Yeah right! And no thanks!"

"Why? Because he isn't your type? You've only known him for two days."

"Drop it, otherwise I will bring up the past."

"Cat! Jeez, can't you handle even a little teasing?"

Biting down on my bottom lip, I drag the chair back towards my desk and stare passively at the blank monitor, "You know I can't." My answer seems to float around in the air like a bubble and then it suddenly pops and a heavy silence settles upon the room.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," walking up to me, Celia leans in and gives me a tight hug. I didn't even notice her leave the couch and approach me, my mind somewhere in my horrible past.

Sighing, I shake my head, "I know you didn't and I'm the one who should be saying sorry. I'm just weak, and I know you meant well but stuff like relationships and love are out of the question for me."

Even if I long and wish for such things. At some point, when you lose your family and the people you consider to be your entire world, it comes to no surprise that the walls that surround me should only rise higher and resemble iron. No matter how much time as elapsed, grief still manages to snake its way into my heart and I can never forget the faces of my parents or Gran because without them, I don't feel whole. 

And who could ever love something so hollow?