Matchmaker Mayhem
Chapter 78: Challenge 1 – The Love Locks

Chapter 78: Challenge 1 – The Love Locks

The late morning sun bathed Paris in a golden glow as teams gathered at the Pont des Arts, the famous Love Lock Bridge. The railings were already lined with thousands of padlocks, each one carrying a story—some filled with love, others forgotten over time. The air buzzed with excitement as Margaux Duval stood at the front, exuding the effortless elegance that Ava had come to associate with L’Amour Élite.

"Bienvenue, mes amis," Margaux greeted, her smile polished but sharp. "For your first challenge, you will be testing the foundation of all romance: words. Love letters have been at the heart of grand romances for centuries. Today, you will each receive a set of anonymous letters written by our participating clients."

A staff member handed out envelopes to each team. Ava glanced at hers with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

"Your task," Margaux continued, "is to match each love letter to the correct recipient—someone waiting to find the words meant for them. Once you believe you’ve made a perfect match, your couple will seal their connection by placing a lock on the bridge together."

Ryan leaned in, glancing over Ava’s shoulder. "You know, for a city that banned putting new locks here, they sure don’t mind using it as a matchmaking test."

Ava smirked. "Just don’t let Mei hear you say that, or she’ll start selling ’limited edition’ locks with our faces on them."

Ryan shuddered. "I wouldn’t put it past her."

Margaux clapped her hands. "And with that, bonne chance!" The teams scattered to find their clients, letters in hand.

---

Ava and Ryan skimmed through the letters quickly. Some were poetic, some were playful, and at least one was filled with so many emojis that Ava groaned audibly.

"Who even writes like this?" Ava muttered, holding up a note that read:

"Your eyes are the dawn, and I wish to wake up in them forever. 🌅✨💖"

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I’d say it’s sincere... but the sunrise emoji might be overkill."

Ava shook her head, flipping to the next letter. "Okay, let’s focus. We need to figure out which client wrote which letter and match them accordingly."

Ryan tapped his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. "Or we could just randomly pair them up and hope for the best."

Ava shot him a glare. "Do you want us to lose?"

Ryan grinned. "Fine, fine. Let’s do it your way."

They made their way toward their assigned clients, a mix of hopeful romantics, nervous first-timers, and one particularly brooding poet who looked like he belonged in a 19th-century novel.

---

It wasn’t long before the inevitable chaos began.

One client, an overly enthusiastic woman named Camille, was absolutely convinced that the poetic sunrise letter was meant for her—despite all evidence to the contrary.

"I know it’s from Jean-Pierre," Camille insisted, clutching the letter dramatically. "He once told me my eyes reminded him of dawn! This is fate."

"Uh, right," Ava said, glancing at Ryan for backup.

Ryan leaned in, whispering, "How do we tell her that Jean-Pierre actually wrote that letter to his ex?"

Ava sighed. "Gently."

Before they could intervene, another client, a quiet man named Hugo, stepped forward. "Actually, that was my letter," he said, looking almost sheepish.

Camille froze. "...Oh."

An awkward silence followed.

Ava coughed, stepping in. "Camille, maybe we should—"

"No, no," Camille said quickly, forcing a smile. "It’s... fine. Totally fine. Love is an adventure, isn’t it?"

Ryan, clearly enjoying the drama, muttered, "This is better than a soap opera."

Ava elbowed him. "Not helping."

Camille turned to Hugo, forcing cheer into her voice. "So, Hugo... tell me more about these sunrise eyes of yours?"

Ava bit her lip, holding back a laugh as Camille and Hugo awkwardly walked toward the bridge together.

---

After dealing with several more mismatches—one involving an elderly gentleman who had accidentally written his love letter to his neighbor’s cat—Ava and Ryan finally got their last clients paired.

As their last couple clipped a golden lock onto the bridge, sealing their new connection, Ava leaned against the railing with a deep sigh.

"That was exhausting," she muttered, rubbing her temples.

Ryan stood beside her, hands in his pockets, watching the Seine flow beneath them. "Admit it, though—it was kind of fun."

Ava turned to him, arching an eyebrow. "Watching Camille realize she’d been swooning over the wrong person?"

Ryan grinned. "Exactly."

Ava shook her head but couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling up. "Okay, fine. It was kind of fun."

They fell into a comfortable silence, the sounds of laughter and celebration from the other teams filling the air. The golden light of the afternoon danced over the water, making everything feel softer, warmer.

Ryan nudged her gently. "We make a pretty good team, huh?"

Ava glanced at him, her heart doing an annoying little flip. "Yeah," she admitted. "We do."

Ryan’s smirk softened, and for a moment, the air between them changed—just slightly. It wasn’t dramatic, but it was something.

Before she could dwell on it, a loud clatter broke the moment.

They turned to see Harold fumbling with a comically large padlock, much to Mei’s amusement.

"What are you doing?" Ava called over.

Harold grinned sheepishly. "Mei said if we’re going to be in Paris, we might as well leave our mark on the bridge."

Mei beamed. "It’s tradition!"

Ava groaned. "Please tell me you’re not engraving something ridiculous."

Mei held up the lock, revealing it had "Matchmakers Mayhem Forever" in elegant script.

Ryan chuckled. "I’ll allow it."

Ava sighed. "Fine. But if we get fined for adding an illegal lock—"

Mei waved her off. "Details, details."

Ryan leaned closer to Ava, his voice low. "At least it’s not our names on the lock."

Ava looked up at him, smirking. "Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?"

Ryan placed a hand over his heart. "What, me? Ava, are you suggesting I’m a romantic?"

Ava rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest lingered as they turned back to the bridge.

The first challenge was done, but Paris was just getting started.

---

With the first challenge officially over, the teams slowly dispersed from the Pont des Arts, leaving behind a trail of laughter, relieved sighs, and a few frustrated competitors who weren’t thrilled with their results. Ava let out a deep breath as she and Ryan leaned against the bridge’s railing, watching the golden light of the late afternoon dance over the Seine.

"Well," Ryan mused, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "that was less of a matchmaking challenge and more of a romantic scavenger hunt gone wrong."

Ava smirked. "With a side of miscommunication and unintentional heartbreak."

Ryan turned his head toward her, his grin soft. "So, basically, your average day as a matchmaker?"

Ava laughed, shaking her head. "Not exactly. Usually, I don’t have to break the news to someone that their ’soulmate’ actually meant to confess to their neighbor’s cat."

Ryan chuckled, nudging her shoulder. "Honestly, you handled it like a pro."

Ava looked up at him, her chest warming at the sincerity in his voice. She wasn’t used to being praised so openly—not like this. "Thanks," she murmured.

Ryan nodded, then glanced toward the river. The water shimmered under the waning sunlight, and the gentle lapping of waves against the stone embankments filled the quiet space between them. He shifted slightly, his hand brushing against hers where they both rested on the railing. It was the lightest of touches, almost accidental, but neither of them moved away.

Ava hesitated, then, on impulse, she let her pinky hook around his.

It was subtle—just a small, fleeting gesture—but it sent a jolt of awareness through her. She felt Ryan’s pinky tighten in response, his warmth anchoring her for a brief, quiet moment.

"You okay?" he asked after a beat, his voice unusually gentle.

Ava let out a slow breath, her thumb absently tracing the metal railing. "Yeah. Just... I don’t know. This city, this whole competition—it’s different from New York."

Ryan tilted his head. "Different how?"

Ava struggled to put it into words. "New York was about proving something. Fighting to be taken seriously. Here, it feels... personal. Like every match we make carries this weight, this expectation of romance." She exhaled, giving him a wry look. "I think Paris is trying to turn me into an actual romantic."

Ryan’s lips twitched. "You say that like it’s a bad thing."

Ava narrowed her eyes playfully. "It is when you’re me."

Ryan hummed thoughtfully, his fingers subtly shifting to lace through hers completely. This time, it wasn’t accidental.

Ava swallowed. The feeling of his hand in hers was both comforting and dangerous, like standing too close to the edge of something thrilling. She could have pulled away—but she didn’t.

Instead, she let herself enjoy it.

---

Just as the moment settled, a sharp voice broke through the air.

"There you are!"

Ava startled, instinctively yanking her hand from Ryan’s as Mei came bounding toward them, Harold trailing behind her with an exasperated expression.

"You two disappeared!" Mei scolded, throwing her hands up. "We were looking for you! I was about to send out a search party!"

Ryan smirked. "It’s been ten minutes."

"Exactly!" Mei huffed. "Plenty of time for you to get kidnapped or—worse—get stuck in a bad date with an unapproved match."

Ava groaned. "You seriously think I’d just fall into a surprise date?"

Mei pursed her lips. "In this city? Anything is possible."

Ryan chuckled, but Ava sighed, already sensing the next round of Mei-induced chaos approaching.

"So," Mei continued, her expression shifting into something suspiciously mischievous, "what were you two doing, hmm?"

Ava crossed her arms. "Talking."

Mei’s eyes darted between them before a knowing smirk curled at her lips. "Talking?" she echoed. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

Ava felt heat rush to her cheeks. "Mei—"

Mei waved her off dramatically. "No need to explain, dear, I already know everything I need to know."

Ryan, clearly enjoying Ava’s flustered state, leaned toward Mei conspiratorially. "What exactly do you think you know?"

Mei beamed. "That my meddling is finally paying off."

Ava groaned, burying her face in her hands. "We’re not doing this right now."

"Oh, we are," Mei said, patting Ava’s shoulder. "But first—we celebrate. I know the perfect café to toast your first victory in Paris!"

Ryan looked down at Ava, his grin teasing but warm. "What do you say, Matchmaker? One more detour before we get back to business?"

Ava sighed, but despite herself, she found that she didn’t mind the idea at all.

"Fine," she relented, bumping her shoulder against his as they started walking. "But you’re paying."

Ryan laughed. "Again?"

Ava smirked. "Chivalry, remember?"

Ryan groaned dramatically, but his hand found hers again as they followed Mei and Harold down the street.

And this time, Ava didn’t let go.