Matchmaker Mayhem
Chapter 115: Ava’s Counterattack – The Power of Imperfect Love

Chapter 115: Ava’s Counterattack – The Power of Imperfect Love

The buzz surrounding Julian’s Perfect Match AI hadn’t died down—not by a long shot. Investors, journalists, and even a few intrigued matchmakers had latched onto the idea, discussing algorithms and predictive compatibility like they were about to replace centuries of human instinct with cold, emotionless calculations.

Ava knew she needed to act.

She refused to let love—real, messy, human love—be reduced to a soulless equation.

So, in true Ava fashion, she fought back her way.

Instead of a high-tech, sterile matchmaking showcase, Ava’s event was held in a cozy, lantern-lit courtyard within an old teahouse, nestled in the quiet backstreets of Tokyo. Cherry blossoms framed the stone pathways, and soft acoustic music played in the background, creating an atmosphere that was warm, inviting, and deeply personal.

A stark contrast to Julian’s high-profile AI-driven spectacle.

Ryan, standing beside her as they greeted guests, nudged her playfully. "You’re making it impossible for Julian’s event to look anything but soulless, you know."

Ava smirked. "Good."

Tonight, the rules were simple: No algorithms. No perfect scores. No rigid compatibility metrics. Just honest, human interaction.

Instead of forcing people to match based on ideal pairings, Ava had given them a different set of instructions:

Tell each other your worst first date story.

Share something weird about yourself that most people don’t know.

Name one thing that drives you absolutely insane about people... but that you secretly find charming in the right person.

The goal? Imperfection.

Laughter and conversation flowed freely.

People relaxed, opened up, and let their guards down. The pressure to be a "perfect match" was gone, replaced by something far more real.

Ava stood back, arms crossed, watching as her event thrived.

Julian had his data-driven pairings, but she had something better.

Authenticity.

Ryan, watching her watch them, smiled. "You did good, Matchmaker."

Ava exhaled, tension finally easing from her shoulders. "I just needed to remind people that love isn’t about perfection."

Ryan tilted his head. "Speaking from experience?"

Ava shot him a look. "Oh, shut up."

Ryan chuckled, then hesitated—just briefly—before speaking again, voice softer. "Actually... I do get it."

Ava turned to him fully. There was something different in his tone.

Ryan was always confident, always teasing, always in control.

But now?

There was vulnerability.

Ryan exhaled, slipping his hands into his pockets. "You know my parents got divorced when I was a kid, right?"

Ava nodded, remembering the awkward dinner he had dragged her to months ago, where his parents had blindsided him with their decision to remarry after years apart.

Ryan’s gaze flickered, as if recalling something buried deep. "What I don’t talk about much... is why they got married in the first place."

Ava stayed silent, waiting.

Ryan glanced at the couples laughing around them, his voice thoughtful. "They were a ’perfect match’ on paper. Everyone said so. Same ambitions, same upbringing, same social circles. Even their personalities seemed to align—my mom was practical, my dad was charismatic, and they balanced each other out."

He let out a dry chuckle. "The problem was... they were so perfect for each other that they never learned how to handle imperfections."

Ava frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

Ryan met her eyes. "They never fought."

Ava blinked. "Wait. Isn’t that... a good thing?"

Ryan smiled wryly. "You’d think, right? But it wasn’t that they were so in sync that they never had problems. It was that they ignored them. Any disagreement got buried, smoothed over, pushed aside in the name of keeping the illusion of perfection."

Ava listened intently.

Ryan exhaled. "Eventually, it fell apart. Because when you spend years pretending everything’s perfect, you don’t know how to deal with it when things go wrong."

A beat of silence.

Ryan turned fully to her now, expression unreadable. "That’s why I never believed in ’perfect matches.’ Not because I don’t believe in love, but because I know real love is messy. It’s learning how to fight, how to fix things, how to deal with the fact that sometimes, the person you love is going to piss you off."

Ava huffed a quiet laugh. "You do piss me off."

Ryan smirked. "And yet, here we are."

Ava rolled her eyes. "So, what—you’re saying people should argue?"

Ryan shook his head. "I’m saying people should learn how to love each other, flaws and all."

Ava fell silent.

Because she knew, deep down, he was right.

Love wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t supposed to be.

It was about finding someone who made all the imperfections worth it.

Ava turned back toward the couples in front of them—people laughing, some already finding connections, not because they were designed to fit, but because they chose to try.

She took a slow breath, her heart feeling... full.

Ryan watched her carefully. "What’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours?"

Ava looked up at him, really looked at him. The man who had challenged her, teased her, frustrated her—but also grounded her, supported her, and made her laugh when she needed it the most.

A slow smile curled her lips.

"You," she said simply.

Ryan blinked. "Me?"

Ava’s voice was quieter now, but no less firm. "If someone had asked me a year ago to describe my ’perfect match,’ I never would have said you."

Ryan raised an amused brow. "Rude."

Ava chuckled, then softened. "But I was wrong. Because I wouldn’t trade us—all the bickering, all the teasing, all the ridiculousness—for anything."

Ryan’s smirk faded, replaced by something warmer.

Then, without warning, he cupped her face and kissed her.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t just teasing or playful.

It was slow. Deep. Certain.

Like a quiet, unspoken promise.

Ava melted into it, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, grounding herself in him.

When they pulled apart, Ryan’s voice was husky and low. "That was unfair."

Ava raised an eyebrow. "Unfair?"

Ryan smirked, brushing his thumb over her lips. "Yeah. Because now I want to take you upstairs and show you exactly how much I love our imperfections."

Ava’s stomach flipped.

Her pulse skipped.

Her breath hitched.

And honestly?

She had absolutely no argument.

"Then what are we waiting for?" she murmured.

Ryan’s eyes darkened.

And just like that, they were leaving the event behind, heading straight for the elevator—because matchmaking could wait.

Tonight?

Tonight was about them.

Meanwhile...

Mei and Harold watched them disappear.

Harold adjusted his glasses. "Think they’re heading back to plan the next event?"

Mei sipped her tea. "If by ’plan the next event,’ you mean ’Ryan is currently sweeping Ava off her feet and into a night of unspeakable activities,’ then yes."

Harold sighed. "Should we stop them?"

Mei snorted. "Why? Let them have their fun. They deserve it."

Harold shook his head. "You’re enjoying this too much."

Mei grinned. "Oh, absolutely."

And with that, she happily turned back to matchmaking, while Ava and Ryan?

Well...

They had a much more interesting night ahead.

---

The moment the elevator doors slid shut, Ryan wasted no time.

His hands framed Ava’s face as he kissed her deeply, his body pressing her back against the cool steel walls. There was no rush, no urgency—just the quiet certainty of two people who already knew they belonged to each other.

Ava sighed against his lips, fingers curling into his suit jacket, gripping him as if she needed something to ground her. As if she needed him.

Ryan smirked against her mouth, his voice low and teasing. "You’re holding on like I might disappear."

Ava huffed, tilting her chin up. "Shut up, Kim."

Ryan chuckled but didn’t argue. Instead, he kissed her again, softer this time, reverent. The kind of kiss that said you are mine, and I will always find my way back to you.

The elevator dinged, but neither of them moved right away. Ryan brushed his nose against hers, his hands trailing down to settle on her waist.

"Come on," he murmured. "I’ve got plans for you, Matchmaker."

Ava’s pulse skipped as he led her down the hallway.

The suite was quiet, save for the faint hum of Tokyo’s nightlife filtering through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. The city lights stretched endlessly, illuminating the skyline with a soft golden glow.

Ava stepped inside, only to freeze.

Her breath caught as she took in the scene waiting for her.

Soft, flickering candlelight.

A bottle of wine chilling by the window.

And in the center of the plush bed, a single red camellia—a flower that Ava had once, absentmindedly, mentioned was her favorite.

She turned, stunned, meeting Ryan’s gaze. "You did this?"

Ryan shrugged, unbothered, but there was a warmth in his eyes. "I figured you deserved something special after today."

Ava swallowed, her heart full. "You—you actually listened when I mentioned camellias?"

Ryan smirked. "Of course. I listen to everything you say, Lee."

Ava’s throat tightened. How was she supposed to fight this?

Ryan stepped closer, taking her hands in his. "We’ve had a long day." His fingers traced over her knuckles, slow and deliberate. "So tonight? I just want to take care of you."

Ava’s heart flipped.

And then—Ryan moved.

Ryan’s hands slid to her waist, fingers splaying wide, pulling her flush against him. Ava barely had time to react before his lips found her neck, his mouth hot and slow, tracing every inch of her skin with a deliberate, torturous pace.

Ava gasped, her hands fisting in his shirt. "Ryan—"

He hummed against her collarbone, voice husky and teasing. "Hmm?"

Ava shivered.

Ryan pulled back slightly, his gaze dark with intent. "You trust me?"

Ava met his eyes—the deep, unwavering certainty in them. She nodded. "Always."

Ryan’s smirk softened into something more tender. "Good."

And then he lifted her, effortlessly, carrying her toward the bed.

Ava let out a soft laugh, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You’re awfully confident, Kim."

Ryan grinned, lowering her onto the silk sheets with obscene ease. "And yet, you love me."

Ava exhaled as he hovered over her, his fingers tracing over the straps of her dress, slowly slipping them down.

"I do," she whispered.

Ryan groaned, his forehead resting against hers. "Ava, you are going to be the death of me."

Ava smiled, tugging him down into a kiss. "Then let’s make it worth it."

And as Ryan’s lips claimed hers again, their world shrunk down to just them.

The rest of Tokyo could wait.