The common room was its usual blend of lively chatter and crackling firelight. As you entered, your eyes quickly found him. Lorenzo.

He was sitting casually on the couch, his arm slung around another girl, who was laughing at something he said. But it wasn’t the sound of her laughter that caught your attention—it was the way he kissed her. Slow, deliberate, as though he was making sure you saw it.

You took a breath. His eyes flicked to you just as the kiss ended, and there it was—the smirk.

“Well, well,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “Didn’t realize you were still around. Enjoying the show?” His tone was taunting, as if daring you to say something.

You refused to let his antics get to you. Instead, you held his gaze with a calm, unwavering stare. “Not at all,” you replied coolly, the words laced with confidence. “I was just thinking how much better it feels to move on.”

Lorenzo’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, but he quickly recovered. The girl beside him giggled, seemingly unaware of the tension in the air. He turned back to her, his arm tightening around her shoulders.

“You know, I always thought you’d be the jealous type,” he said, leaning in to whisper something to her, though his eyes were still on you. “Guess I was wrong.”

You raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Jealous? Hardly,” you said, taking a step closer, your posture confident and relaxed. “But I do think it’s sad that you have to put on a show to feel important.”

His eyes narrowed, his arrogance flickering for a moment. But you didn’t give him the satisfaction of flinching.

“You’re right about one thing, Lorenzo,” you continued, a small smile tugging at your lips. “We weren’t anything special. And now? Well, I’m finally free of the drama.”

As you walked away, you could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on you. But you didn’t care. You didn’t need his approval, or anyone else’s.

You were better off without them. But was he better off without you? Obviously not.