Matchmaker Mayhem
Chapter 136: The Drama Cafe Disaster

Chapter 136: The Drama Cafe Disaster

"When matchmaking meets bad acting and viral fame."

The Blossom & Brews Café looked exactly like a K-drama set because, well, it was one.

Soft golden light streamed through wide, arched windows.

Cherry blossom petals (fake, but convincing) drifted from hidden ceiling vents every ten minutes.

The tables were tiny and round, the walls decorated with framed stills from all the dramas filmed here over the years—tearful breakups, confessions under rain, dramatic reunions in the rain.

And today?

Ava was hosting a client meet-up here.

Because what could possibly go wrong when you threw eight hopeful singles into a romance-themed café dripping with artificial sakura and tension?

Apparently... everything.

The Meet-Up Begins (Barely)

Ava stood near the entrance, clipboard in hand, surveying her guests.

Clients milled awkwardly by the pastry counter, trying to look casual while sneaking glances at each other.

Tiny lattes and overpriced croissants were exchanged with trembling fingers.

Someone dropped a fork. Twice.

Ryan leaned against a pillar near the window, arms crossed, looking infuriatingly smug.

"How’s your chaos scale reading?" he murmured as she passed.

"Somewhere between ’awkward school dance’ and ’slow-motion train wreck,’" Ava muttered back.

He laughed, low and warm.

It was going fine—until the coffee.

Disaster, Part 1: The Spill

One of Ava’s clients, a nervous travel agent named Soo-min, turned to bow politely to her match—and in the process, elbowed her latte directly off the table.

The cup flipped in the air like a tragic Olympic gymnast.

Ava saw it happen in slow motion.

Ryan lunged, trying to grab it mid-flight—

missed—

and the latte arced perfectly across the room—

splat—

right down Ava’s white blouse.

Dead silence.

Every head swiveled toward her.

A drop of foamy caramel dripped from her hem to the floor.

Ryan froze, mid-reach, his mouth half open in horror.

Someone gasped.

Someone else snapped a picture.

And then—

Ryan exploded into motion.

Disaster, Part 2: The Dramatic Umbrella Scene

He snatched the oversized black umbrella someone had left by the door, snapped it open with a flourish—

and rushed to Ava, shielding her under the umbrella as if the latte had been acid rain and not dairy.

"We’re safe!" he announced loudly. "No injuries!"

The room didn’t know whether to laugh or applaud.

Ava, utterly mortified but also dangerously close to hysterical laughter, glared at him.

"You’re making it worse," she hissed.

Ryan crouched slightly, holding the umbrella over both of them like a shield.

"Drama rules, jagiya," he said under his breath, dead serious. "When disaster strikes, we escalate."

Before Ava could reply, he dropped to one knee in the middle of the café, holding the umbrella aloft with one hand and her free hand in the other.

Gasps rippled around the room.

Someone fumbled for their phone.

Someone else squealed.

"Ava Lee," Ryan said loudly, very badly imitating the deep, gravelly voice of a K-drama hero.

"You are my first love, my last love, my only love. Even if you smell like burnt caramel now, marry me anyway."

Ava slapped a hand over her mouth to stop from bursting into laughter.

The room erupted.

Clients cheered. Someone clapped.

Hot chocolate spilled. A paper cup hit the floor and rolled away dramatically.

And worst of all—someone in the back corner, near the pastry counter, was holding up a phone.

Recording.

The Aftermath: Viral Fame, Again

By the time Ava managed to wrestle Ryan upright and escape to the staff bathroom to change into a spare summit jacket, the damage was done.

When she came out, cheeks burning, Ryan was scrolling his phone with a grimace.

"Bad news," he said, holding up the screen.

Ava peered at it.

There, already trending on TikTok, was a short video titled:

"Real-Life K-Drama Couple at Blossom & Brews!"

#MatchmakerOppa #ProposalFail #CoffeeAttack #SeoulRomance

It showed the coffee spill, Ryan’s umbrella theatrics, and his terrible, beautiful fake proposal—all set to a soft, emotional piano remix of some famous OST.

Ava groaned and dropped her forehead against Ryan’s shoulder.

He laughed, wrapping an arm around her, completely unbothered.

"We’re viral again, jagiya," he said cheerfully.

"You’re banned from umbrellas forever," she muttered into his shirt.

"And fake proposals?"

"Definitely banned."

He kissed her hair. "Noted."

Quiet Afterglow: Recovery Mode

They slipped out the back of the café, past the mob of laughing clients and curious tourists.

Outside, the real cherry blossoms fluttered down around them in the cool breeze.

Ryan bumped her hip playfully.

"You know," he said, "for a coffee disaster, you still looked hot."

Ava laughed, feeling lighter despite everything.

Maybe love wasn’t polished speeches and perfect cafés.

Maybe it was laughing in the rain of mistakes, burnt caramel, and bad umbrella timing.

Maybe it was this.

Always, somehow, this.

---

The sun was beginning to set when they ducked away from the chaos of Blossom & Brews, stepping onto the quieter side streets of Gangnam.

The buzz of summit news, viral videos, and client follow-ups faded behind them, swallowed by the gentle hum of the evening city.

For once—

no flashing cameras.

no meddling matchmakers.

no expectations.

Just them.

Ryan reached for Ava’s hand as they crossed a small stone bridge over a trickling stream, weaving easily through the quieter alleys.

Fingers lacing tightly with hers like he had no intention of letting go.

Ava squeezed back without thinking.

"So where are you kidnapping me now, oppa?" she teased, nudging his shoulder lightly.

Ryan smirked. "Somewhere you won’t need an umbrella or a backup shirt."

"Wow, high bar."

"You’re hard to impress," he teased.

"You love the challenge," she shot back, grinning.

He tugged her a little closer, letting their hands swing naturally between them.

The soft scrape of their shoes on the cobblestone streets, the rustle of leaves overhead, the faint scent of street food from faraway stalls — it all felt muted, slower, easier.

Like the whole city had decided to slow down just for them.

---

Ten minutes later, Ryan turned down a narrow side path — barely marked, tucked between two ivy-draped stone walls.

Ava hesitated. "This looks suspiciously murdery."

He laughed and pulled her along.

"Trust me."

They stepped through a small wooden gate... and into a hidden courtyard garden.

Tiny, walled-in, forgotten by tourists.

Stone benches ringed an ancient gingko tree at the center.

Soft paper lanterns swung from low-hanging branches, glowing faintly golden against the deepening dusk.

Wildflowers grew in little cracks between the stones.

A trickle of water from an old bamboo fountain filled the space with a soft, peaceful rhythm.

Ava’s breath caught.

It was simple.

Quiet.

Perfect.

Ryan released her hand only to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek.

"I found it yesterday," he said softly. "When I was waiting for your summit session to end."

"You went exploring?"

"I needed somewhere to take you," he said simply. "Somewhere no one else could find."

Ava’s heart squeezed, painful and sweet.

"You’re—" she started, voice cracking slightly.

But she couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Ryan smiled like he already knew.

He pulled her gently toward the stone bench under the gingko tree.

They sat, thigh pressed to thigh, hands twined together loosely in the space between them.

No words.

Just the hush of evening, the scent of earth and rain and sweet ginkgo leaves, the soft pulse of connection humming between them.

Ava leaned her head against Ryan’s shoulder.

He kissed the top of her head without thinking.

---

Tiny, Important Promises

For a long time, they just sat there.

Breathing the same air.

Letting the day fall away.

Finally, Ava tilted her head up, looking at him with soft, tired eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Ryan cupped her face gently, thumbs brushing the curve of her jaw.

"No cameras," he said.

"No umbrellas."

"No viral fame."

"Just you," Ava whispered.

He kissed her—slow and deep and achingly soft.

It wasn’t desperate like last night.

It wasn’t playful like the coffee shop chaos.

It was home.

A promise made without words.

Ava smiled against his mouth.

This—

this was better than any summit victory.

Better than any public spectacle.

This was real.

And she would never, ever be tired of it.

---

The garden was still and quiet.

Ava and Ryan sat beneath the old gingko tree, lost in their own soft world — the way only two people who had already, quietly, chosen each other could be.

And just beyond the crooked bamboo gate, tucked behind a curtain of wild vines, Mei and Harold stood watching.

Not interfering.

Not scheming.

Just watching.

Mei lowered the tiny opera binoculars she’d been using — a ridiculous, unnecessary prop she couldn’t resist — and sighed softly, a rare, genuine smile curving her mouth.

"They’re happy," she said, voice almost reverent.

Harold, standing steady beside her, passed her a roasted chestnut from the paper bag he carried.

"They’ve been happy for a while now."

Mei nodded, peeling the chestnut thoughtfully.

"I know."

She popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly, her gaze never leaving Ava and Ryan — their hands twined together, heads bowed close in soft conversation no one else could hear.

"I knew from Tokyo," Mei murmured. "Maybe even Paris. They just needed time to catch up to themselves."

Harold smiled, tucking his free hand lightly against the small of her back.

"And you gave it to them."

Mei sniffed, dabbing the corners of her eyes discreetly with the sleeve of her hanbok.

"Of course I did. I’m not a monster."

Harold chuckled quietly. "No. Just a wedding planner in waiting."

At that, Mei huffed — partly laughing, partly wistful.

"One day," she said, voice soft.

"When she’s ready, I’ll be there. With lanterns. And flower petals. And a hundred sakura blossoms raining down around them."

Harold squeezed her hand gently. "She’ll let you."

"I know she will," Mei said. "Because she loves him. And because he loves her enough to wait without asking."

They stood there a little longer, side by side, just breathing it in.

The quiet joy of two stubborn hearts finding home in each other.

Finally, Mei tucked the opera glasses into her sleeve, squared her shoulders, and whispered mischievously:

"Maybe I’ll just casually suggest a cherry blossom venue. No pressure. Just... planting seeds."

Harold shook his head fondly. "You never change."

"Of course not," Mei said proudly. "I’m an icon."

And with that, they turned and slipped away—

leaving Ava and Ryan alone under the drifting blossoms,

where real love was growing exactly the way it should:

wild, slow, fearless.