Chapter 31: Ava’s Revelation
Ava stared at the file labeled DO NOT OPEN UNTIL NECESSARY like it was a ticking ti bomb.
Sitting cross-legged on her couch with a mug of lukewarm tea forgotten on the coffee table, she felt as though the world was playing a cruel joke on her. The envelope was innocuous enough—just an unassuming manila folder with i’s careful handwriting scrawled across it. But Ava knew better. Anything i deed "necessary" was bound to be either life-changing, sanity-testing, or both.
She’d found the file buried in the depths of her desk drawer earlier that evening, tucked under a sea of mismatched Post-it notes, client profiles, and what appeared to be a fossilized granola bar. At first, she thought about tossing it back in and pretending she hadn’t seen it. But i’s words from months ago kept ringing in her ears: "You’ll know when the ti is right."
If there was ever a "necessary" ti, it was now. After the disaster at the mixer—Ryan’s sharp critique, her storming out, and the hollow ache that lingered in her chest—the universe felt like it was conspiring against her. Maybe i’s file held so kind of clarity, or at least an explanation for why her life was currently spiraling into rom-com levels of chaos.
"Alright, universe," she muttered, grabbing the file and ripping it open. "Let’s see what you’ve got."
---
The first page was a neatly organized list of nas, and Ava’s brow furrowed in confusion. She scanned the list, noticing a mix of forr clients, distant acquaintances, and a few nas that tugged at mories of awkward blind dates. Each na was accompanied by i’s handwritten notes, written in her unmistakable blend of sass and wisdom:
Eric Cho: Too uptight. Would probably label his spice rack alphabetically.
Lucas Grady: Can’t take a joke. Rejected Ava’s pun about "relationship-building bricks."
Sam Patel: Forgot Ava’s birthday. Twice.
Ava’s jaw dropped as the realization hit her. These weren’t random n. These were all people i had attempted to match her with over the years.
"She’s been matchmaking
this whole ti?" Ava whispered, flipping through the pages in disbelief.
On the next page, i’s comntary got even snarkier:
Kyle Mitchell: Talked about his crypto portfolio for an hour. No thank you.
Ben Harris: Brought a coupon to a first date. Economical, but no spark.
Greg Turner: Nice guy, but thought "Netflix and chill" was a legitimate restaurant suggestion.
"Unbelievable," Ava muttered, her fingers gripping the pages like they might burst into flas. Sowhere, she could practically hear i’s voice saying, "You’re welco."
---
Ava flipped to the last page, her annoyance giving way to unease as she skimd the remaining nas. And then, her heart stopped.
There, underlined twice and circled in bold, bright red, was a single na:
Ryan Kim.
Her stomach twisted into a knot.
"No," she whispered, as if saying it out loud would make it less true. "No, no, no. This has to be a mistake."
But i’s handwriting was unmistakable, and Ava’s eyes were drawn to the note scrawled next to Ryan’s na:
Ryan: Stubborn, guarded, and infuriating. But he sees Ava for who she really is. A perfect match. Trust .
Ava slamd the file shut like it was cursed. "Nope. Nope. Absolutely not."
She paced her living room, her thoughts spiraling into chaos. Of all the people in the world, why Ryan? Why the smug, sarcastic, emotionally unavailable divorce lawyer who spent half his ti making her question her life choices?
Because, whispered a traitorous voice in her head, he’s also funny, loyal, and quietly kind in ways he probably doesn’t even realize.
"Shut up," Ava said to no one in particular, glaring at her couch cushions like they were conspiring against her.
But the mories ca flooding back anyway—the way Ryan had looked at her during their karaoke duet, the way he’d made her laugh when she wanted to scream, the way he’d held her gaze a little too long at the mixer before everything went sideways.
And then there was his critique. His infuriating, dismissive critique.
Ava groaned, flopping onto the couch. "Why couldn’t my perfect match be soone normal? Like Eric Cho and his stupid spice rack?"
---
After several minutes of self-pity and dramatic sighing, Ava forced herself to reopen the file. On the final page, beneath the last of i’s comntary, was a single handwritten note:
"Love isn’t logical, Ava. It’s ssy. Complicated. Annoying. And completely worth it. Stop fighting it."
Ava stared at the words, her chest tightening. She hated how much sense they made.
---
If Ryan really was her match—and she wasn’t fully convinced he was—then Ava wasn’t about to sit around waiting for him to figure it out. She was a matchmaker, for crying out loud. This was her job.
She grabbed a notebook and started scribbling ideas, muttering to herself as she worked. "Alright, step one: remind Ryan that I’m not just so annoying matchmaker. Step two: show him what he’s missing. Step three..."
She paused, tapping her pen against the paper. "Step three: convince him to stop being a complete idiot."
Her brainstorming quickly devolved into a chaotic ss of arrows, doodles, and half-baked sches:
Option 1: Fake date to make him jealous.
Option 2: Dramatic grand gesture (too soon?).
Option 3: Get him to admit his feelings during a staged argunt.
Option 4: Kidnap i and demand answers.
By the ti she finished, Ava’s notebook looked like the aftermath of a brainstorming session for a heist movie. But one thing was clear: she wasn’t giving up without a fight.
---
The next morning, Ava marched into i’s tea shop, the file clutched tightly in her hand.
"You," she said, pointing an accusatory finger at her grandmother. "We need to talk."
i looked up from her tea tins, entirely unbothered. "Good morning to you too, dear. What’s the ergency?"
Ava slapped the file onto the counter. "Ryan? Really? What were you thinking?"
i’s expression didn’t change, though her eyes twinkled with mischief. "I was thinking you two are perfect for each other."
Ava threw her hands in the air. "You’ve been matchmaking
like so kind of puppet master! This is manipulative, even for you."
"It’s not manipulation," i said calmly. "It’s guidance. You’re the one who has to take the leap."
Ava crossed her arms, her frustration mounting. "What if he doesn’t feel the sa way?"
i shrugged. "Then he’s a fool. But sothing tells
he’s just as scared as you are."
Ava groaned, sinking into a chair. "You’re impossible."
"And you’re stubborn," i replied, pouring herself a cup of tea. "It’s why you two are perfect for each other."
---
That evening, Ava sat at her desk, staring at the chaotic ss in front of her: i’s file lay open, taunting her with its maddening red-circled truth, while her notebook was a battlefield of scribbles, arrows, and plans so half-baked they could barely qualify as dough. Beside it all sat her lukewarm mug of tea, abandoned in favor of pacing, muttering, and the occasional dramatic sigh.
"This is insane," Ava muttered to herself, throwing down her pen for the fifth ti in twenty minutes. "Completely, absolutely insane."
Her gaze drifted back to the list in i’s file, her eyes zeroing in on Ryan’s na. Stubborn, guarded, and infuriating, i had written, which might as well have been a summary of the past several months of Ava’s life.
She wanted to argue with it, dismiss it as another one of i’s cryptic "guidances," but deep down, she knew the truth. Ryan Kim was everything i had described—and so much more.
Because beneath all his sarcasm and sharp edges, Ryan had layers. He was funny when he wasn’t trying to be, unexpectedly kind when no one was looking, and maddeningly loyal in ways he probably didn’t even realize. He was also frustrating as hell, which sohow only made Ava’s feelings for him more infuriating.
She didn’t know how they’d gotten here—how he’d gone from a thorn in her side to the reason her heart raced every ti he walked into a room. But now that she’d admitted it to herself, there was no going back.
Still, there was one glaring problem.
"What if he doesn’t feel the sa way?" Ava whispered, her voice barely audible.
The question hung in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and ominous. She tried to picture Ryan’s reaction if she told him how she felt. Would he smirk and make so teasing comnt? Would he freeze, caught off guard? Or—her stomach churned—would he look at her with that infuriating mix of indifference and politeness, like a man carefully dismantling a bomb?
"Ugh," Ava groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "Why couldn’t my perfect match be soone normal? Soone who doesn’t co with emotional walls the size of Mount Everest?"
Her thoughts spiraled, ping-ponging between determination and doubt until she couldn’t stand it anymore. She pushed back from her desk, grabbing i’s file and pacing the room like a general preparing for battle.
---
Ava didn’t know if she was making the right move. She didn’t know if i’s "perfect match" prediction was accurate or if she was about to walk into the most humiliating rejection of her life. All she knew was that she was tired—tired of second-guessing herself, tired of wondering, and most of all, tired of pretending she didn’t feel sothing for Ryan.
Love isn’t logical, i’s note had said. And it wasn’t.
It was ssy. Complicated. Frustrating. It made smart, capable people do ridiculous things, like plan an entire strategy for confessing their feelings to a man who probably spent half his ti thinking about how to avoid feelings altogether.
But Ava was done letting fear drive her decisions.
"If I can survive a turkey attack, a Star Wars cosplay date, and a silent ditation dinner," she muttered, pacing furiously, "I can handle this."
She grabbed her notebook and flipped to a fresh page, scrawling a new heading at the top: The Plan.
Step 1: Get Ryan to let his guard down.
Step 2: Make him laugh. (This was key. He was less smug when he was laughing.)
Step 3: Tell him the truth.
Ava paused, tapping her pen against the page. Step 3 felt impossibly daunting, a chasm she didn’t know how to cross. But she’d faced scarier things before—like i’s experintal tofu potluck or the ti a client tried to bring a ferret on a first date.
If there was one thing Ava Lee could do, it was face a challenge head-on.
---
But even as her resolve solidified, doubt lingered at the edges of her mind like an unwelco guest.
What if Ryan didn’t feel the sa way? What if he shut her down with that infuriating smirk of his, brushing her off like she was just another matchmaking client with an unrealistic expectation?
She thought back to the night of the mixer—how his critique had cut her deeper than she’d expected. How his words had felt less like feedback and more like a wall, shutting her out.
What if that wall was still there?
Ava sank back into her chair, staring at her notes. For a mont, the weight of it all felt crushing. She wasn’t just risking her pride—she was risking everything they’d built together, the easy camaraderie, the teasing banter, the unspoken understanding that had grown between them.
But then she thought about i’s note again: Love isn’t logical. Stop fighting it.
Ava sighed, her chest tightening. Maybe i was right. Maybe love was supposed to feel like this—ssy and terrifying and impossible to predict. And maybe that was what made it worth fighting for.
---
With a deep breath, Ava straightened in her chair and grabbed her pen. She wasn’t just fighting for herself—she was fighting for the possibility that i might be right, that Ryan might be the person who saw her for who she really was.
"If I’m going to crash and burn," Ava muttered, jotting down her final notes, "I’m at least going to do it in style."
She added one last step to her plan:
Step 4: Leave the ball in his court.
Because as much as Ava hated giving up control, she knew this wasn’t sothing she could force. Ryan had to et her halfway, or not at all.
Still, that didn’t an she couldn’t nudge him in the right direction.
With her plan finalized, Ava closed her notebook and stood, determination surging through her veins. This wasn’t about logic. It wasn’t about strategy or algorithms or any of the other tools she’d spent years perfecting as a matchmaker.
This was about being vulnerable, about putting herself out there even when the odds weren’t in her favor.
This was about love.
And if Ava was anything, it was a fighter.
---
As she turned off the lights and headed to bed, Ava couldn’t shake the feeling that she was standing on the edge of sothing monuntal.
Whether she succeeded or failed, one thing was certain: she wasn’t going to let fear hold her back anymore.
Because love wasn’t logical.
It was ssy. Complicated.
And completely worth it.
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