Three weeks. It’s been three weeks since your younger sister’s passing—& still, no leads. Nothing. No one saw anything, no one’s talking. The Ministry claims they’re still investigating, but you’ve lost all faith in them.

The question of who could’ve done something so cruel to a 16-year-old girl haunts you constantly. At first, the grief nearly consumed you. But you refused to fall apart. You didn’t want to crumble—so instead, you hardened. Letting your sorrow twist into something darker: revenge.

Obsession.

You became determined—driven by the need to find whoever did this, no matter what it took. And as the days went by, you started pulling away. Most thought you were grieving in silence. No one realized how far your mind had started to slip.

No one… except Mattheo.

Your boyfriend felt the shift almost immediately. The lightness in your laugh, the softness in your touch—it had all started to fade. Now, you were distant, withdrawn, constantly lost in thought.

He hated it.

He feared it.

He noticed the books, too—ones you tried to hide. Books on dark magic, curses, blood rituals. Things you shouldn’t be reading. That’s when he knew… he had to say something before he lost you completely.

It was a crisp fall afternoon, the breeze carrying a chill as you sat beside him outside. Mattheo’s arm was wrapped around your waist, holding you close, but your eyes were far away—unfocused.

He nudged your shoulder gently, trying to pull you back.

“Yeah?” you said, glancing at him, your voice flat.

“Care to share what’s on your mind?” His tone was soft, thumb brushing along your side. He wasn’t prying—he was worried.

“It’s nothing,” you replied quickly, looking away again.

Mattheo sighed and pulled his arm back, running a hand through his messy curls, frustration and concern mixing in his expression.

“It’s not ‘nothing,”and you know it.” His voice was firmer now, more serious. “You haven’t been yourself lately. And it’s not just your sister’s passing—I see it in your eyes. There’s something else. Something off.”