# Chapter 2: The Doctor, The Deception, and The Desperate Hope for a Forever Love
Hello everyone, it's me again! How are you all doing? Today I will continue to walk with you and review Chapter 2 of "Married at First Swipe" – and oh, what a chapter it is! We're diving straight back into Hannah's world, where Friday nights look very different from the wild adventures of her traveling days, and where the search for love takes her down a path with more twists than a soap opera plotline. So grab a cup of tea, get comfy, and let's uncover what happens next in her bumpy journey toward happily ever after.
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The evening had settled over her small flat like a familiar, unwelcome blanket. Hannah drained the last drop of wine from her glass and stared into the empty space, wondering when exactly her life had become... this. Just a year ago, she'd been living the dream – working behind a bar on the beaches of Bali or Bondi, knocking back rum with locals as the sun dipped below the horizon. Now? Her wildest Friday night excitement was a FaceTime call with her best friend Dee, who was currently living her absolute best life on Australia's Gold Coast. Dee had met someone too – a bronzed god named Ade – and by the sound of things, they were having the time of their lives together.
Not that Hannah wanted to see it. When Dee's tales of sunrise watching turned into Ade giving her a foot massage that had clearly become more than just a foot massage, Hannah decided she'd had quite enough of that live show, thank you very much. So she said her goodbyes – she loved her friend dearly, but not *that* much – and found herself alone again, facing the hum of her empty flat and the relentless ticking of a biological clock she couldn't quite ignore.
As if on autopilot, Hannah reached for her phone and pulled up Save The Date, the app where she worked as office manager. There were some new suggested matches waiting for her – Steven, John, and Philip, all claiming to be perfectly lovely men in their little bios. But their photos told a different story entirely. Steven looked like a mummy's boy, the kind who'd still be living at home at forty. John and Philip were corporate types, all stiff collars and socks-on-during-sex energy. She shuddered and closed that window with a groan.
Then, because she wanted to admit it only to herself – and certainly never to her boss Jess – she clicked open the app she loved best out of all the dating platforms. Her secret favorite. She pulled up her saved matches and scrolled until she landed on a profile that made her heart beat a little faster:
**Matt, 34** *A doctor who doesn't need a stethoscope to make your heart beat faster.*
They'd exchanged a few messages the previous week – light, flirtatious, fun texts that had left her wanting more. But neither of them had suggested meeting in person. Now, seeing the little green dot showing he was active, Hannah felt a reckless surge of courage. Before she could overthink it, she fired off a message asking if he fancied a drink the following day.
His answer came back within a minute. *Hannah! So my witty charm eventually won you over after all – go me! Sure, a drink sounds great. I'm in the middle of my last night shift of the week at the moment (and yes, I'm on my break rather than messaging from a patient's bedside, before you ask!), but I only need a few hours' kip to get back into day shift mode for Monday, so let's say a late lunch at the George and Dragon on the high street – does that work for you?*
Hannah agreed, although she was quietly surprised by both his choice of venue and the timing. The George and Dragon on the high street? She couldn't remember ever actually stepping foot inside the pub, but she was pretty sure it fell firmly into the category of "old man boozer" rather than "cool, hipster, impress-your-date bar." Still, she had nothing to lose, and at least she'd have all of Saturday morning to herself. Maybe she'd finally get round to joining that gym she kept talking about.
And with that thought, she picked up her phone again and opened WhatsApp. *Hey, Tom, feels like we haven't caught up in ages. I'm finally going to get off my arse and join a gym – I need to find one near here that's cheap but not filled with posers. Any thoughts? x*
Her phone lit up almost immediately. Tom was still awake, apparently. *A gym without posers is like a school without naughty children! I go to the leisure centre one sometimes (it's PAYG) as it's pretty decent. Catch up soon. x*
Well then. Tomorrow morning was sorted.
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Saturday morning arrived bright and painful, and Hannah found herself wheezing her way through twenty agonizing minutes on the cross-trainer followed by what she optimistically called "almost ten minutes" on the rower. She stood under the leisure centre's sad, weak shower – smugly thankful she'd had the foresight to bring her own shampoo rather than relying on that white slime dispensed from the soap box on the wall – and let her mind drift toward the afternoon ahead.
Matt was handsome enough in his profile picture, that much was certain. And his messages painted a picture of a wise-cracking, caring sort of guy, someone looking for fun and interesting company and maybe something more. Whether he'd live up to that in person remained to be seen, but Hannah liked to remain hopeful. She spent longer than was entirely necessary drying and straightening her long, dark locks – he should feel honoured, she thought with a wry smile – before glancing at the clock and realising with horror that she had only ten minutes to complete a fifteen-minute walk to the pub.
The next few minutes were a blur of pressed powder, hasty mascara swipes dangerously close to her lashes, a cloud of blusher applied to cheeks already flushed pink from exertion, and stuffing gym kit into her oversized bag. She shoved her feet into her Converse and raced out the door.
By the time she arrived at the George and Dragon, sweaty and slightly dishevelled, she was already regretting every last grain of blusher. Her face had gone that unfortunate shade of tomato-red that she'd absolutely forgotten about during her gym session. She sniffed at her armpits discreetly, trying to remember if she'd applied deodorant after her shower, before deciding there was nothing to be done about it now. Anyway, she reasoned bravely, Matt was a doctor – he'd definitely smelled worse than slightly fragrant pits.
She pushed open the heavy wooden door and was immediately hit by that peculiar fragrance found only in old English pubs – an oddly not-unpleasant mix of ale, cleaning fluids, and damp bar stool cushions infused with decades of cigarette smoke. Her eyes scanned the room. There were the usual groups of ageing men hunched over their empty glasses, quiet old couples slowly forking fish and chips into their mouths, and there, right in the far corner, sat an unruly-haired man around her age, nursing a pint of dark Guinness while staring intently at a yellowing menu.
Hannah squared her shoulders, strode over to him with every bit of confidence she could muster, and plonked herself down next to him on the fake-leather banquette. "You're Matt, I'm guessing. I'm Hannah. Obviously." She grinned.
"Excellent guess, ten points to you!" he replied with an easy grin. "Now your reward can be the choice between scampi and chips, chicken and chips, or maybe pie and chips – what do you fancy?"
"I think I'll go for chips and chips," she laughed, feeling the tension begin to melt away. "I'll go and order if you want?"
"No, I insist. Do you definitely not want anything with your chips? Fine, but I'm telling you now there'll be no stealing my scampi. Right, chips and chips and a glass of wine for the lady?"
"No, a pint of lager for me please."
They performed what could only be described as a complicated dance as Matt tried to slide past her and Hannah ended up awkwardly crouching on top of the seat to let him through. "Liking your moves," he said, raising an eyebrow with amusement before sauntering off to the bar.
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Three pints later, Hannah felt like she hadn't laughed this hard in years. Matt had her in stitches with the most outrageous stories – patients arriving at A&E with various kitchen implements stuck in entirely inappropriate places, alongside delightfully "warts and all" tales about what happens when overworked medics finally let their hair down and hit the clubs.
"God, my face hurts!" she cried, taking a generous gulp of what seemed to be a magically refilling pint glass. "I absolutely do not want to know what happened to that thermometer in the end."
"It's even worse than you're imagining, I'm afraid. What about you – you must have some wild stories about bungee-jumping in Mexico or full-moon parties in Koh Samui?"
Hannah drew herself up in mock offence. "Full moon parties? I'm not some gap-year student bragging to their mates about how many neon cocktails they drank from a fish bowl on a beach before they threw up all over the cute guy from Wolverhampton they met out there! I'll have you know that when I do wild, I do wild."
"I stand corrected, and I apologise profusely for tarring you with a gap-year student brush." Matt held up his hands in surrender. "So, when you say wild, exactly how wild do you mean?"
"I've done white-water rafting in Costa Rica, climbed into a volcano crater in Iceland, and had a rifle pointed at me in South Africa." She paused, grinning. "And obviously, I've got roaringly drunk on a beach in practically every country I've ever visited, and probably vommed all over countless gorgeous guys, though I can't remember any of them being from Wolverhampton."
"Quite wild, then," Matt agreed, nodding his approval. "So, what's been the best thing you've ever done?"
"The best thing..." Hannah paused, her mind drifting. "Okay, do you want the version I tell everyone who asks me this question, or the actual truth?"
"What about both?"
"The best thing I've ever done is swim along the Great Barrier Reef. It's the most awe-inspiring thing in the entire world."
"Good choice, can't really argue with that. And what about if you're being properly honest?"
Hannah tipped the rest of her drink into her mouth and swallowed hard. The pause stretched out long enough that she felt Matt's gaze on her, curious and patient. She took a breath. "The best thing I've ever done is walk along the beach on the edge of the Gower Peninsula in the middle of a massive storm – complete with thunder and lightning – with the man I thought I was going to marry."
Silence fell between them, heavy and unexpected. Hannah stared into the bottom of her empty glass, avoiding his eyes, feeling that familiar tightness in her chest that always accompanied this particular memory. The storm, the rain lashing against her face, the feeling of being completely alive...
Then Matt cleared his throat. "So you're saying the best thing you've ever done is in Wales? As in *Wales* Wales?"
The tension shattered into a thousand pieces, and Hannah burst out laughing. And then suddenly neither of them could stop. They were cackling like idiots, tears streaming down their faces, drawing increasingly concerned looks from the pub's elderly clientele. Just as they were beginning to pull themselves together, Hannah started hiccupping so violently it set them both off again.
"We're getting some strange looks from the locals," Hannah managed between fits of uncontrollable laughter.
"Then maybe it's time to get out of here," Matt said, chucking her jacket at her. "Oi, don't forget this." He picked up her gym bag – and accidentally sent its entire contents scattering across the sticky pub floor. Her sweaty trainers rolled under a table. Her bright pink sports bra landed with suspicious accuracy in the middle of the walkway. By the time they'd hysterically gathered everything together and stumbled outside, they were both close to complete collapse.
"Oh my god, did you see that poor old man's face?" Hannah wheezed, doubled over. "I thought he was going to have a heart attack right there and then. You'd have had to resuscitate him on the sticky pub carpet."
"I'm not sure we'll be welcome in there again," Matt replied. "Almost killing half the punters with shock does not go down well with the landlord! Christ, I haven't laughed this hard in forever. Are you alright, I've got an inhaler if you need one?"
"Don't set me off again! But hark at you and your hero doctor act." Hannah grinned, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. "Where are we going now anyway?"
"Back to mine? I've got a few beers crying out to be drunk."
She didn't hesitate. "Beer, you say? I'm in!"
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Two hours later, Hannah found herself walking in the opposite direction, away from Matt's small terraced house and back toward her own flat. Though it was only eight o'clock in the evening, a cranky, premature hangover was already beginning to rear its ugly head, and with it came those familiar creeping feelings of self-loathing and regret.
Why had she allowed herself to sleep with him so quickly? She could blame the beer – dear God, she'd certainly had enough, and it had been hours since that bowl of chips at the pub. But she knew alcohol wasn't the only reason. It had been the adrenaline rush, the deliciously reckless feeling of being somewhere she shouldn't be, doing something she really, truly shouldn't be doing. It was the desire to shake up her life, to recapture that carefree, spontaneous energy she'd felt when travelling the world. And deeper than all of that, it was the desperate need to bury that memory – the memory of walking along a storm-battered beach in Wales, hand in hand with a man she'd thought was her forever.
And that was all fine, she told herself fiercely. She was young, free, and very single. The only problem was that Matt apparently didn't seem to be.
She'd left him snoozing in bed while she'd made a quick trip to the bathroom and used the opportunity to have a little mooch around his terraced house. It was small but boasted what was obviously a high-end kitchen-diner, full of top-of-the-line appliances and fittings. Bluetooth speakers were scattered throughout, along with serious sound systems and furniture that screamed "expensive" rather than "flat-pack from IKEA." Clearly, medicine paid considerably better than being an office manager for a dating app.
But it wasn't the expensive furnishings that had caught her attention. It was the living room wall, adorned with more framed photographs than an art gallery. There were pictures of Matt on lads' holidays, one of him in graduation robes with his proud parents, and lots and lots of photos of him with a stunning blonde woman. At first, Hannah had let herself believe this could be his sister – Matt clearly carried good genes himself, after all. But then her eyes landed on a small photo, beautifully framed in a modern white mount, showing the pair of them locked in a very passionate, very un-sibling-like kiss. And that, combined with the collection of candles and trailing plants adorning the bookcase filled with novels by Marian Keyes, Liane Moriarty, and Sophie Kinsella – books no single male doctor would ever buy for himself – had made Hannah suspect that Matt's grasp on the truth was not quite as healthy as some of his patients.
"Is your girlfriend away at the moment?" she'd asked casually, returning to the bedroom to find Matt's eyes half-open.
"What? What do you mean?" He was going for puzzled, but Hannah could see the flicker of fear in his now very awake eyes.
"Well, she's obviously not here so I just wondered where she was," she'd replied with devastating calm.
"I... We... I'm about to break up with her," he'd blustered. "But she's away with her job so much and I'm working loads of shifts, and..." He'd trailed off, unable to finish his excuse.
Now Hannah let herself into her flat, poured herself a pint glass of water, and ran a deep bath with obscene amounts of her most expensive bath oil – she deserved the luxury treatment tonight. She tried not to replay the image of herself bolting from Matt's bedroom, hopping into her clothes with as much dignity as she could muster before legging it out onto the pavement while he was still trying to formulate an explanation.
"What is wrong with people?" she asked aloud into the empty, steamy bathroom.
The universe, unfortunately, didn't deign to reply. Hannah sighed and sank deeper into the hot water. Because deep down, she knew she wasn't only annoyed at Matt – she was annoyed at herself too. On the surface, she understood that she couldn't be blamed for not knowing he had a girlfriend he wasn't sure if he wanted to leave. But she was supposed to be looking for someone to spend the rest of her life with, not falling into bed with a man she'd only just met on an evening when his actual girlfriend was conveniently away.
She heaved herself out of the bath, her limbs aching – though whether that was from the gym or the energetic activities earlier, she wasn't entirely certain – and pulled on her softest cotton pyjamas from the drawer. Then she snuggled into bed and gently placed over her legs the brightly coloured blanket that G-ma had knitted for her all those years ago, when she'd first set off for university.
More than fifteen years on, the blanket was a little dulled, a little grubby, with fraying wool where stitches had come loose and a patchwork of small repairs she'd made herself over the years. But it was still one of Hannah's most prized possessions. It smelled like home, like love, like the unwavering warmth of a grandmother's embrace. Tonight, more than anything, she needed the comfort of that cosy wool.
Hannah's grandparents had been an enormous part of her childhood. Every Sunday afternoon she'd adored listening to them reminisce about their marriage, the way they'd moved from Cornwall up north when Gramps landed a job at an aircraft manufacturing firm, how they'd raised her mum Joan. But her favourite story, the one she'd requested over and over and over again, was how a young and beautiful Vera had met a dashing Robbie at a village fete in Cornwall while he was home on leave from the army one fateful Saturday night. It was old-fashioned and romantic and wonderful, and Hannah had grown up dreaming of finding a love exactly like theirs.
She'd been utterly devastated when Gramps passed away during her final year at university. But it wasn't her own grief that had truly shattered her – it was watching G-ma fall apart. Hannah had become terrified that her grandmother would literally die of a broken heart, a phenomenon she'd discovered on the internet was entirely real. Her mum had told her not to believe everything she read online, but Hannah had never really listened to her mum's advice back then. And even now, she didn't talk to her mum about relationships. How could she, when Joan had spent the last nine years alone and bitter, watching Hannah's dad settle down with his new wife Charmaine and their "surprise" daughter, seven-year-old Seraphina?
When she was growing up, Hannah could talk to G-ma about anything. But there were definitely things she could never, ever tell her grandmother now – like sleeping with not-so-single Matt mere hours after meeting him. Not because she thought G-ma would be shocked, or because she worried it would get back to her mum, but because she simply didn't want her grandmother to worry. Since Gramps had died, G-ma had spent every moment telling Hannah how much she wanted to see her settle down and be truly happy. It was part of the reason G-ma adored Jess so much – she thought her boss was the perfect influence, a woman married to her childhood sweetheart, living in their own home with two gorgeous children. And despite Hannah's naturally adventurous, impetuous nature, she desperately wanted to make her grandmother proud, to find that beautiful forever love that she and Gramps had shared.
Her phone lit up beside her, a message from Matt. She ignored it, letting it sit there like an accusation. Instead, she spent the next half hour scrolling through one social media platform after another, every post seeming to feature loved-up couples who had gotten engaged on Christmas Day and were still basking in the glow of their very public, very perfect proposals. Hannah could think of only one day more awful to propose, and that, obviously, was Valentine's Day, which would no doubt be another avalanche of vomit-inducing "romantic" content across her timeline. *Have some imagination please, people!*
Her mind wandered to Dee and the promise she'd made to visit Australia soon. But the reality was depressing. Between the rent on her tiny, slightly dingy flat and keeping herself in red wine, Hannah could barely save a tenner a month. Every flight to Brisbane was a distant fantasy. And even if she could somehow scrape together the funds, she knew with painful certainty that once she boarded that plane and tasted the freedom of her old travelling life once more, she'd never, ever want to come back. That wouldn't be fair to Jess, who was still scrambling to get Save The Date off the ground. And more than that, she'd miss out on her nephew Leo, the one shining beacon of pure joy in her life.
Seven-month-old Leo, her brother Scott's surprise baby. Hannah had been shocked, to say the least, when her older brother – the eternal stoner, the perpetual child who lived in a converted garage attached to their mum's house – had sent her a message announcing his girlfriend of four months was pregnant and, oh, would she like to come to their wedding in nine weeks? She'd always assumed Scott would never grow up, let alone settle down. And yet there he was, apparently making it work.
If even Scott could find lasting love, then why the hell couldn't she?
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## Reader's Impressions & Star Rating
Oh, what a chapter! My heart genuinely ached for Hannah as she navigated yet another disappointing connection in her search for love. I found myself wanting to reach through the pages (or audiobook speakers!) and give her a great big hug – she's clearly still so wounded from whatever happened in Wales, and the way she masks that pain with laughter and recklessness feels so achingly real. Her grandmother's blanket, the warm memories of Gramps and G-ma's beautiful love story, the simmering frustration that her hopeless brother found happiness while she continues to struggle – all of it comes together to paint such a vivid, touching portrait of a woman who desperately wants love but keeps running into the wrong men. The chemistry and banter between Hannah and Matt were absolutely electric to read, which makes his betrayal land all the harder. The way the author contrasts Hannah's vivacious spirit with her quiet loneliness is masterful. What a beautifully crafted chapter with all the feels!
**Rating: 4.8 / 5 Stars** ⭐⭐⭐⭐½
## Next Chapter Prediction
Hannah is clearly spiraling – between the horrible date with Matt and her renewed determination to follow in her grandmother's footsteps, she's more vulnerable than ever. I predict that in the next chapter, we'll see Hannah making a bold, possibly impulsive decision to shake up her approach to love. Whether that means diving headfirst into a more serious commitment with a new match from her apps or taking an unexpected risk with Save The Date itself, I think we're on the verge of something life-changing. Her unresolved feelings about her past relationship in Wales are bound to resurface, and with her brother Scott seemingly living proof that even the most unlikely people can find happiness, Hannah might just be tempted to leap before she looks – with consequences that could change everything!
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