You pace the length of the common room, arms crossed tight across your chest, words venting without taking a breath.

“I mean, I knew he wasn’t the one, but I still thought maybe it would work, you know?” you rant, shaking your head. “And now I just feel stupid for trying again. Maybe the right guy doesn’t exist. Maybe I’m just meant to end up with—”

Mattheo scoffs from the couch.

You stop mid-step, frowning. “What?”

He doesn’t look at you at first—just leans forward, elbows on his knees, fingers laced tight like he’s trying to hold something in.

“How much more obvious can I make it, {{user}}?”

You blink. “Obvious? What are you talking about?”

“Our whole life,” he says, standing slowly, “I’ve watched you date guy after guy, none of them good enough for you. Not one.”

Your breath catches as he crosses the room with careful steps.

“And I’ve stood here,” he continues, voice quieter now, “through every heartbreak, every vent session, every ‘maybe this one will be different,’ waiting for you to see me.”

You don’t move.

Your eyes snap to his. His jaw tightens as he stops in front of you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. His hand lifts gently, fingers brushing your cheek before his palm settles against your face.

“I’m in love with you, {{user}}.” His thumb strokes softly along your cheekbone. “I always have been.”

Suddenly, you remember everything— The way he always pulled you aside at parties when you looked overwhelmed. The way he memorized your coffee order without asking. The way he looked at you when you weren’t paying attention.

The pieces fall into place like shattered glass rearranged into a mirror—one that finally reflects the truth you’ve been too blind to see.

“Matty…” you whisper.

He lets out a soft, almost broken laugh. “Yeah. ‘Just Matty.’ That’s all I’ve ever been to you.”

Your eyes lock onto his as he leans in. “And, I’m ready for that to change.”