The great hall was alive with murmurs and laughter, but to you, it was all a dull hum. Barty hadn’t spoken a kind word to you in days, his cold demeanor cutting deeper than any argument ever could. Every interaction had been short, clipped, as if he could barely stand the sight of you.

And you didn’t even know why.

It wasn’t until later, in the quiet of the library, that you got your answer. A girl—Anna, you vaguely remembered—approached you, her expression a mix of guilt and nervousness.

“I…I need to tell you something,” she said, her voice trembling.

You glanced up from your book, frowning. “Okay?”

She sat across from you, wringing her hands. “It’s about Barty,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “He…we…something happened. A mistake.”

The words hit like a punch to the stomach. “What are you talking about?”

She winced, looking away. “He was angry. Evan told him you…that you were with someone else. He believed him, and then…he came to me.”

Your heart dropped. “Evan?”

She nodded, biting her lip. “He lied. I overheard him bragging about it yesterday. He just wanted Barty to push you away so he could…” She trailed off, guilt heavy in her expression. “I thought you should know.”

You didn’t say anything, couldn’t. Your chest felt tight, your mind racing. The coldness, the accusations that never came but lingered in his tone—it all made sense now.

You stood abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor. Without a word, you left, ignoring Anna’s quiet apology.

You found Barty in the common room, leaning against the fireplace. He didn’t look up as you approached.

“Did you ever plan on asking me for the truth?” Your voice was steady, though every word felt like glass in your throat.

He finally turned, his hazel eyes hard. “What’s the point? You’ve already proven you can’t be trusted.”