Matchmaker Mayhem
Chapter 118: The Ikebana Love Challenge – Matchmaking Through Flower Arranging

Chapter 118: The Ikebana Love Challenge – Matchmaking Through Flower Arranging

The morning in Tokyo was crisp and fragrant, with a hint of plum blossoms in the air. Ava adjusted her scarf as she and Ryan approached the venue—a serene ikebana school tucked in the quiet backstreets of Bunkyo Ward. Unlike the flashy venues of the past few days, today’s challenge took place within a traditional machiya-style house, its wooden lattice exterior and sliding shoji doors wrapped in early spring sunlight.

A gentle breeze stirred as they stepped into the inner courtyard. The air carried a delicate floral scent—peonies, camellias, irises—mingling with the faint notes of incense from a nearby shrine. It was beautiful. Serene. Exactly the kind of place Ava might’ve appreciated... if not for the chaos she already felt bubbling beneath the surface.

Inside, long wooden tables were arranged in rows, each one topped with baskets of fresh seasonal blooms, slender bamboo shears, ceramic vases, and handwritten instructions in both Japanese and English. Soft koto music played in the background as kimono-clad hosts welcomed participants with warm bows and gentle smiles.

Ryan leaned in, whispering, "This is like a high-stakes version of a florist’s dream date."

Ava snorted softly. "A florist’s dream date that will turn into a floral bloodbath once Julian shows up."

And right on cue—

"Why, Ava," came the voice she was already dreading, smooth as silk and twice as smug. "You actually look... calm."

Julian strolled in like he owned the place, Ethan trailing behind him, as effortlessly polished as always.

"Don’t let the serenity fool you," Ava replied sweetly. "I’m just imagining ways to strangle you with a sakura branch."

Julian chuckled. "Floral violence. How poetic."

Ryan smirked. "If you breathe wrong near her ikebana display, I’m letting her stab you with garden shears."

"Tempting," Ava mused, plucking a pair from the nearby toolkit and testing their weight.

The event facilitator stepped forward—a petite woman named Madame Fujimura, dressed in a seafoam-green kimono with wisteria embroidery. Her presence was dignified, her voice as soft as it was commanding.

"Welcome to the Ikebana Love Challenge," she announced. "Today’s task is to arrange flowers that reflect the inner connection between two individuals. Harmony, balance, and feeling must guide your hands. Not skill. Not technique. But mutual understanding."

"Sounds easy," Ethan muttered.

Madame Fujimura turned, as if hearing him. "It is not."

Ava paired her participants—a shy novelist named Yuta and an extroverted event planner named Ami—and walked them through flower choices while watching their body language. Yuta gravitated toward quiet blooms—white lilies, soft lavender sprigs—while Ami reached for bold dahlias and sunburst ranunculus.

"They’re complete opposites," Ryan murmured, watching over Ava’s shoulder.

"That’s why it might work," Ava said under her breath, encouraging them both to try placing stems side by side. "Sometimes chaos and calm find rhythm."

Meanwhile, at the far end of the room...

Julian was having a meltdown.

His perfectly matched couple—chosen through his AI compatibility index—were arguing over floral color theory.

"You don’t pair red with pastel," the man hissed.

"And you don’t control every petal I touch," the woman snapped.

Julian’s smile cracked at the edges.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Should I intervene?"

Julian’s jaw clenched. "No. Let them work it out."

But he couldn’t help glancing over at Ava’s table, where laughter had begun to bloom right alongside the arrangements.

Then came the moment.

Julian, ever the perfectionist, strode over to Ava’s station with a critical eye and leaned too close to the arrangement. His elbow bumped the table.

A vase wobbled.

Toppled.

Crash.

A chorus of gasps filled the room.

Ami shrieked. Yuta looked stunned. Flowers scattered like fallen soldiers.

Ava froze.

Julian held his hands up. "Oh dear. What a shame. Perhaps someone wasn’t following the guidelines properly?"

Ryan took a step forward, voice low and firm. "You bumped it."

Julian raised a brow. "Accidents happen."

Madame Fujimura appeared like a silent storm. "Mr. Ashcroft," she said crisply. "Please refrain from tampering with other displays."

Julian straightened, fake-politeness wrapped around his words like silk. "Of course."

Ava knelt immediately, helping Yuta and Ami pick up the fallen stems. Her voice stayed calm. "It’s okay. We can redo it. We’ll start from the center again—find our balance."

As they worked, Ava offered gentle questions.

"What flower would you use to describe your ideal relationship?"

Yuta hesitated, then whispered, "A daffodil. Quiet, but steady."

Ami smiled. "Then I’ll use sunflowers. They face the sun—but they don’t mind sharing the light."

Ava beamed.

Ryan, watching from a few steps back, smiled to himself. That was why she’d always win.

Not because of spreadsheets or science.

But because she knew people.

Twenty minutes later, Ami and Yuta stood arm in arm beside their new arrangement—daffodils and sunflowers cradled together in a woven ceramic vase, their stems subtly curved toward each other like they’d grown that way all along.

Madame Fujimura nodded, serene. "Beautifully done."

Julian?

Still arguing with his couple.

Ethan?

Eating mochi from the refreshment table like a man with no job description.

As the challenge closed, Madame Fujimura declared Ava’s couple one of the day’s top pairings.

Ava turned toward Ryan with a triumphant grin. "We survived."

Ryan leaned in, slipping his fingers between hers. "Not just survived. You crushed it."

Ava smirked. "And you didn’t even try to stab Julian. I’m proud."

Ryan leaned closer. "Oh, I thought about it. But I figured you’d get first dibs."

They both laughed.

From across the room, Mei snapped a photo and beamed. "Put that in the wedding slideshow, Harold!"

Harold adjusted his camera lens. "Already done."

Ava groaned.

But Ryan just kissed her temple and whispered, "Let them plan what they want. We’ll write our own vows."

Ava’s smile softened.

And as they left the ikebana school hand in hand, the scent of blossoms lingering on their clothes, she knew—this chaos?

This madness?

She wouldn’t trade it for anything.

---

Perfect. Let’s ease into a private, romantic post-challenge moment that’s cozy, steamy, and full of that slow-burn energy your readers love. Here’s a continuation from the end of the Ikebana Love Challenge:

---

Back at their suite, Tokyo’s skyline glittered like scattered glass beyond the windows, but Ava’s mind was still back at the flower school—watching daffodils and sunflowers tilt toward one another in harmony.

Ryan had said almost nothing on the way back. But his hand stayed entwined with hers the whole time, his thumb brushing slow, lazy circles into her palm that left a trail of goosebumps up her arm.

Now, barefoot and wrapped in one of the suite’s plush bathrobes, Ava padded over to the coffee table where a single leftover bloom had been tucked into her bag by one of the ikebana instructors—a soft pink camellia with perfectly rounded petals. A symbol of admiration and long-lasting love.

She turned it slowly between her fingers.

Behind her, the shower hissed off.

Ryan’s voice floated in from the bathroom. "You didn’t stab Julian. I’m proud of your restraint."

Ava smirked, still facing the window. "That’s because I saved it for the wedding."

Ryan emerged a moment later, damp hair tousled, robe slung low on his hips, eyes dark as he walked barefoot across the tatami mat floor.

"You didn’t stab him," he repeated, slower this time, "but you did crush that challenge."

Ava shrugged, finally turning to face him. "It wasn’t easy. He tried to sabotage me again."

"Yeah." Ryan came up behind her, arms sliding around her waist. "And you still won."

He pressed a kiss to her temple. Then another, lower, right below her earlobe.

Ava’s breath caught.

"I brought you something," he murmured.

He stepped back briefly, then returned with a small paper bag from the flower school. Inside was a single stem—deep red spider lilies bundled with lavender sprigs and tied in gold ribbon.

Ava blinked. "You made me a bouquet?"

Ryan smiled sheepishly. "Sort of. I stole your leftover stems and bribed the assistant instructor."

She touched the petals, voice quiet. "Spider lilies?"

"They’re a little wild," he murmured, brushing his knuckles down her cheek. "Hard to tame. Beautiful. Stubborn."

Ava raised an eyebrow. "So... me?"

"And lavender," he continued, ignoring her. "For peace. Because no matter how much chaos Mei stirs, when it’s just us... it feels like everything calms down."

Her throat tightened.

"You’re such a sap," she whispered.

Ryan stepped closer. "You love it."

She did. God help her, she did.

And then she kissed him.

There was no hesitation this time. No teasing prelude. Just the press of her lips against his, soft and certain, until Ryan’s hands tightened at her waist and pulled her closer, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.

The bouquet slipped from her hand as Ryan walked her backward toward the bed.

"Still thinking about Julian?" he murmured against her mouth.

Ava grinned, tugging at the tie of his robe. "Not even a little."

---

Ava fell back onto the plush bedding, Ryan following her down with a smirk that was all mischief and want. His robe had slipped open at the front, revealing just enough to make her mouth go dry—and her hands itch to touch.

"You’ve got that look again," he murmured, brushing a kiss along her jawline, slow and unhurried.

"What look?" she breathed, even as her fingers slipped beneath the collar of his robe, pushing it off his shoulders inch by inch.

"The one that says you’re about to ruin me."

Ava smirked, tugging him down until their mouths met again—hotter this time, less soft and far more claiming.

"I thought you liked being ruined," she whispered against his lips.

Ryan didn’t answer.

He just kissed her deeper, hand sliding beneath her robe and over the smooth curve of her thigh, pulling it around his waist. His other hand tangled in her hair, angling her mouth just where he wanted.

Her robe parted, and the cool air hit her skin, only to be chased away by the heat of his hands, the warmth of his mouth as he trailed kisses down the slope of her collarbone. Every inch he touched felt like it sparked to life, a line of fire under her skin that only he could ignite.

He kissed lower, slower, lingering just enough to make her breath catch—and then catch again.

"Ryan," she gasped, arching up against him, her nails grazing down his back.

"I’ve got you," he whispered. "Just let go."

He took his time. Worshipped her with his hands, his mouth, the reverence of someone who knew her curves like a roadmap—who wanted to memorize her all over again.

Ava’s heart pounded as she rose to meet him, again and again, hips tangled with his, her name a broken whisper on his tongue.

There was no teasing now.

No games.

Only them.

The taste of need and lavender still on her lips.

The sound of his breath catching as she flipped him over and took control.

The way his fingers gripped her hips, grounding them in this moment as she rode the wave they built together—high, breathless, and real.

When it broke, it shattered everything else. Time, space, worry—none of it mattered.

Just this.

Just him.

Just love, messy and perfect and all-consuming.

Afterward, Ryan lay tangled around her like he never planned to let her go. His thumb traced lazy circles against her ribs, while Ava’s fingers absently played with a lock of his damp hair.

"So," she said eventually, voice husky, "think that’ll count as a post-victory celebration?"

Ryan chuckled, low and satisfied. "Only if we do it again after the next win."

Ava smiled, tilting her face to his. "Deal."

And as Tokyo pulsed quietly beyond the windows, their world shrank back to just this—warm skin, steady heartbeats, and a love that felt like a secret just for them.