Love Guru vs. Matchmaker Mayhem

Ava Lee didn't believe in omens, but if she did, this morning's burnt bagel would've been a neon billboard screaming: DOOM AHEAD.

It had started with her morning coffee run, which quickly turned into a tragic juggling act. She'd balanced her planner, an overflowing tote bag, and a precariously full latte like a contestant in some cosmic reality show. Then came the fateful moment when her bag strap caught the corner of a pastry display.

The result: an explosion of croissants, muffins, and powdered sugar across the café floor.

"Rough morning?" the barista asked, his tone dripping with poorly hidden amusement.

Ava, now dusted in sugar like an overcooked donut, offered him her best I'm-holding-it-together-thank-you-very-much smile. "Just another Tuesday."

The universe wasn't done with her yet. By the time she made it to her office, her latte had spilled into her tote bag, soaking her client folders. She had exactly two minutes to dry them out before her assistant, Kelly, burst in, phone in hand.

"You're going viral," Kelly announced, holding the phone aloft like it was the Olympic torch.

Ava blinked, dabbing at the folders with a paper towel. "What do you mean I'm going viral? I haven't done anything worth—" She narrowed her eyes. "Did that video of me falling into the chocolate fountain resurface again?"

"No, no, it's not you," Kelly said, biting her lip. "It's… this guy."

She spun the phone around to reveal a polished man in a perfectly tailored suit, standing on a sleek stage with the words CUPID'S ALGORITHM: LOVE, PERFECTLY PROGRAMMED glowing behind him.

In the video, Ethan Chase was gesturing with the confident swagger of a man who'd never spilled a latte in his life.

"Matchmaking is both an art and a science," he declared, flashing a dazzling smile that could probably power half the city. "But with Cupid's Algorithm, it's more science. No guesswork. No fate. Just guaranteed love."

"Guaranteed love?" Ava muttered, squinting at the screen. "What is this, a matchmaking service or an infomercial for laundry detergent?"

The video cut to Ethan walking dramatically across the stage, arms outstretched. "Unlike other matchmaking services in this city—services relying on outdated intuition or haphazard methods—Cupid's Algorithm is modern, precise, and unmatched in its results. We're not just changing the game. We're leaving the competition in the dust."

He ended the video with a wink so smug Ava felt her soul try to leave her body.

Kelly winced. "You're really not going to like this next part."

Ava folded her arms. "What next part?"

Kelly tapped the screen, revealing a news segment showing Ethan cutting a ribbon in front of his new office. Ava's stomach sank as the camera zoomed out to show the location:

Directly. Across. The. Street.

Her jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding me. He set up shop there?!"

Ava stormed into her office, heels clicking furiously on the scuffed wooden floors. The space—once a charming brownstone—had been lovingly converted into what she called "romantic chaos" and what Ryan had once called "Cupid's thrift store."

The reception area was cluttered but cozy, with mismatched armchairs, a plush rug that had seen better days, and walls lined with photos of couples Ava had matched over the years. The centerpiece of the room was Mei's pride and joy: a bulletin board covered in love stories.

Pinned to it were handwritten notes like: "Thank you, Ava! We're naming our first baby after you!" alongside photos of smiling couples holding engagement rings. Mei had even added a section for pets, featuring Ava's successful attempt at matching two dog owners at a "Puppy Playdate Mixer."

Unfortunately, the room also had its fair share of quirks—like the antique lamp shaped like a cherub, which flickered ominously every time someone sneezed.

Kelly followed Ava in, looking nervous. "So… what's the plan? You're not going to march over there and confront him, are you?"

"Of course I am," Ava said, snatching her bag.

"But—"

"I don't need a plan," Ava declared, already halfway to the door. "I've got righteous indignation."

Ethan's office was the polar opposite of Ava's. Sleek chrome furniture gleamed under fluorescent lights, and every surface was unnervingly spotless. Monitors displayed charts, graphs, and video testimonials from attractive couples gushing about their perfect matches.

It felt less like a matchmaking business and more like a tech startup. Ava half-expected someone to hand her a VR headset and a Soylent.

Ethan appeared from behind a glass partition, grinning like a Silicon Valley villain.

"Ava Lee," he said, as though her name were a winning lottery number. "Welcome to Cupid's Algorithm. I was wondering when you'd stop by."

"Don't flatter yourself," Ava shot back. "I'm here because you decided to insult my business and park your circus tent across the street. What's your game, Chase?"

Ethan spread his hands innocently. "No games. Just innovation. I've developed a service that's faster, smarter, and—let's face it—a bit more modern than yours."

"Modern, huh?" Ava crossed her arms. "Is that what you call your giant neon banner? Because I call it obnoxious."

Ethan smirked. "Clients want results, Ava. They don't care about handwritten compatibility notes or… tea leaves."

"For the last time, I don't use tea leaves!" Ava snapped.

"Of course not," Ethan said smoothly. "It's probably chicken bones."

Ava took a step closer, poking him in the chest. "Listen, Guru Ken Doll. You can build all the algorithms you want, but love isn't a science experiment. It's messy, unpredictable, and—"

"Outdated," Ethan interrupted.

She opened her mouth to argue—

But trumpets blared.

Outside, confetti cannons exploded, showering pedestrians in glitter as a banner unfurled: "The Future of Love Is Here!"

Ethan grinned. "You've got to admit, I know how to make an entrance."

Ava glared. "This isn't over."

As she stormed out, Ethan called after her, "Looking forward to the competition, Ava!"

By the time Ava got back to her office, her mood was as dark as the cherub lamp.

And it only got worse when she saw who was waiting for her.

Ryan Kim.

Leaning casually against her desk, looking just as annoyingly attractive as ever.

"Long time no see," he said, smirking. "Still convincing people that love isn't a terrible idea?"

Ava crossed her arms, ignoring the way her heart skipped—just slightly. "Still convincing them that it is?"

Ryan chuckled. "You know me. Just doing my civic duty."

Ava hated that his smile still did something to her.

She refused to acknowledge it.

Not now.

Not ever.

Game on.