Matchmaker Mayhem

The rooftop of their Parisian apartment was a pocket of quiet above the city’s golden glow. From up here, the soft hum of laughter and clinking glasses from nearby cafés felt distant, like a song playing on low volume. The Eiffel Tower twinkled in the distance, its light reflecting in Ava’s eyes as she leaned against the wrought-iron railing, exhaling slowly.

Ryan stood beside her, hands in his pockets, stealing glances at her every few moments.

For the first time in days, there was no competition, no plotting Julian, no matchmaking mishaps. Just the two of them and the vast expanse of the Parisian skyline.

"You okay?" Ryan asked after a beat.

Ava let out a slow breath, gripping the railing a little tighter. "I don’t know."

Ryan’s brows furrowed. "That’s not like you."

Ava turned slightly, facing him. "This competition... it’s bigger than anything I’ve ever done. It’s not just matchmaking. It’s strategy, it’s pressure, it’s—" She hesitated before continuing. "It’s making me second-guess myself. And I never second-guess myself."

Ryan tilted his head, stepping a little closer. "Ava, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Not to Margaux, not to Julian, not to the entire matchmaking world."

She let out a humorless laugh. "Tell that to my overactive brain."

Ryan reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against hers where they rested on the railing. "Then let me say it in a way your overactive brain can’t ignore."

Ava raised an eyebrow. "Oh, this should be good."