Thirty and Single.

Chapter 1.

I stepped out of the bathroom, steam curling around me like the thoughts in my head, uncertain, persistent. My eyes landed on the red dress lying on my bed. Bold. Daring. Not really me.

Decision-making has never been my strong suit. I always seem to pick the wrong things—like dating Olivier. That ended with a broken heart and a half-eaten tub of mint chocolate chip. I sighed and picked up the green dress instead, softer and safer.

In the mirror, I debated like it was a boardroom presentation. Red or green? Confidence or comfort?

My phone buzzed from the dressing table.

8:00 AM. Shoot!

Panic made the decision for me. I slipped into the red dress, brushed out my curls, applied a quick swipe of mascara, and slipped on my black heels. Grabbing my car keys from the nightstand, I rushed out.

Downstairs, I poured myself some coffee, no time for breakfast and dashed to my car. The drive to Hillwood Publishing House wasn't long, but this morning felt heavier. I was on edge, and not just because of traffic.

I've dreamed of working here since I was a teenager, and now I'm a full-time publisher at Belleza Magazine. Some days it still feels surreal.

I parked, took a deep breath, and made my way to the fourth floor. Familiar faces greeted me with polite smiles in the elevator. I returned them with practiced ease. Once I reached my office, I found Brooklyn already at her desk.

She looked up and smiled. "Hey, love. Just got in."

"Hey, Brooklyn. What time did you get here?"

She shrugged playfully. "Not too long ago."

I slid into my chair, my stress bubbling beneath the surface. I had a story due for Quinn, my boss and absolutely nothing written. My head was a blank page.

"So... how was your date last night?" Brooklyn asked casually.

"Uh... it was okay," I replied, half-heartedly digging through my bag.

"Just okay?" Her eyebrows lifted. "I thought you said Ethan was hot."

"He was. But there was no chemistry. Like... at all."

Brooklyn chuckled and went back to her typing. "Well, better to find out now."

I groaned. "Have you seen my notebook anywhere?"

She shook her head, eyes still on her screen. I exhaled, frustrated, and opened my laptop. Nothing. Not a single idea would come to mind.

Brooklyn paused and looked at me with concern. "Genesis, is everything alright?"

I whispered, "No."

"You know you can talk to me, right?" she said softly.

Brooklyn was a blessing, smart, kind, endlessly patient. In a world that often felt too loud and too fast, she grounded me.

"I haven't come up with anything for Quinn," I admitted.

"Well," she smiled, "I tried writing something over the weekend. Maybe you can use it for inspiration?"

She turned her laptop toward me. "Here, read this."

I skimmed the title and my breath caught.

By the time I finished reading, my heart was racing. It was brilliant. Raw. Honest. Exactly what Belleza needed.

"Brooklyn, this is... perfect."

She smiled. "You can take it to Quinn, if you want."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course."

I kissed the air dramatically. "Thank you! Seriously, thank you."

When I handed Quinn the story, she was floored.

"Genesis, this is exactly what we've been missing. You nailed it!"

I swallowed hard. I couldn't lie. Not about this.

"I didn't write it," I confessed.

"What?"

"It was Brooklyn."

There was a long pause, then Quinn leaned back, surprised. "I never knew she had it in her."

"She does. She's talented. Please, give her a shot."

After a moment's thought, Quinn nodded. "Let her publish this one. We'll see how readers respond."

I couldn't wait to tell Brooklyn.

"She said you can publish it... under your name," I said when I returned.

Brooklyn's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious."

She ran over and hugged me tight. "Thank you so much, Genesis."

"You deserve it, Brooklyn."

The rest of the day passed quickly. While Brooklyn finalized her story for publication, I buried myself in research for my next feature.

At lunch, she insisted on treating me as a thank-you. We walked across the street to a small bistro, our favourite spot. I ordered a chicken salad; she had the chicken with bacon mustard sauce.

Halfway through our meal, I sighed.

"You know, Brooklyn, I'm scared," I admitted. "Most of my friends are married. Some have kids. I'm twenty eight... and still single. What if I never find someone?"

She looked at me warmly. "Genesis, you will find love. You're beautiful, inside and out. Just because it hasn't happened yet doesn't mean it won't."

"But when? I'll turn 30  soon. Then 31... and—"

"Girl, be patient," she interrupted with a laugh. "Good things take time. Who knows? Maybe one of these dates will surprise you."

I gave her a doubtful look and took another bite of my salad.

"How many dates have you been on now?" she asked.

"Five."

"And still no spark?"

I shook my head. "None."

"Well," she said, "your man is just taking the scenic route to find you."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "So, how's Logan?"

Her face lit up. "He's great. I'm meeting his parents this weekend."

"Wow! Wedding bells soon?"

She blushed. "Noooo. Too soon."

We laughed and chatted until it was time to get back to work.

By the time the day ended, I felt lighter.

"Well, I'm heading out. See you tomorrow," I said.

"Good luck tonight!" Brooklyn called out. "Owen might be the one!"

I smiled. "Fingers crossed."

That night, I got home, rested, and started getting ready for the blind date. I didn't know what to expect, but I hoped just maybe this time would be different.