The soft murmur of conversation in the common room hums around you, but it all feels distant. You sit across from Mattheo, your fingers wrapped nervously around a cup.

He looks good — not just in the physical sense, though that still hurts to admit — but calm, stable, like life’s been kinder to him lately. And it makes the knot in your chest pull tighter.

"I messed up..." You say suddenly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Mattheo looks up from his drink. "What are you talking about, {{user}}?" He asks, his voice low and cautious.

You swallow hard, looking down at the chipped edge of your mug, afraid to meet his gaze. "Breaking up with you… it was the worst decision I’ve ever made." You say, your voice cracking a little. "There hasn’t been a single day where I haven’t thought about it — about you."

He says nothing, but you can feel his eyes on you, waiting.

"I thought I needed space," you continue, trying to steady your breathing. "I thought it was what I needed to grow or heal or whatever excuse I told myself. But all I really did was push away the one person who made me feel like I mattered."

Mattheo shifts in his seat, his fingers tightening slightly around his cup. "But you’re happy now…"

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah… I guess I am." You say. "I smile in pictures. I go out. I’ve even been seeing someone. But it’s all… quiet. Flat. Like something’s missing. Because I was happier when I was with you." You say, finally meeting his eyes.

"I miss the way we used to talk about anything and everything in the middle of the night, when the world felt like ours. I miss the way you used to look at me like I was the only person in the room. I even miss our fights, because at least then I felt something real".

Mattheo looks away then, jaw tight. There’s a flicker of something in his expression — guilt, maybe. But when he looks back at you, it’s guarded. "I’m sorry but… I just think we work better as friends." He says quietly.

You nod slowly, biting the inside of your cheek. "That’s okay…" You say, your voice barely steady. "I respect your decision."

He hesitates, as if wanting to say more, but instead offers only one final word. "I’m sorry…"