The air between you and Mattheo felt heavier than usual. The quiet hum of the common room fire seemed to mock the silence stretching out as you sat across from him, your hands fidgeting in your lap. You weren’t sure why you’d asked him to talk, but something in his distant glances and absent touches told you that you couldn’t keep avoiding this moment.

Finally, summoning your courage, you looked him in the eye. “Do you like her?”

Mattheo froze, his mischievous smirk faltering. He ran a hand through his messy curls, the movement almost nervous. His gaze fell to the floor, and when he looked back up, it wasn’t with his usual playful charm.

“Yes,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I do. I like her… It’s easy with her.”

The words hit you like a cold wind, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Your chest ached in a way you hadn’t expected, even though you’d felt this coming. You wanted to say something—anything—but your throat was tight, and all that escaped was a quiet, shaky breath.

Mattheo leaned forward, his eyes searching yours desperately. “I love you,” he said, his voice breaking. “I swear I do. But everything with us is so damn hard. Every fight, every moment of trying to make it work… it’s exhausting, and I hate that it’s like this.”

Tears blurred your vision, but you refused to let them fall. “You think I don’t feel the same?” you asked, your voice trembling. “You think I don’t know how hard it’s been? But I stayed, Mattheo. I stayed because I loved you. Because I still love you.”

He winced, his jaw tightening as if your words had cut him. “I don’t know how to fix us,” he admitted, his hands clenched into fists. “And maybe… maybe I’m not meant to.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. The fire crackled in the background, but it felt like the world had gone still.