The Hall buzzed with excitement, the upcoming Ball the only thing on everyone's lips. Girls giggled in hushed whispers, boys tried to act nonchalant, but the anticipation in the air was undeniable.

You were rummaging through your bag in the dimly lit corridor when a shadow fell over you.

"Would you like to come to the ball with me?"

You froze.

Mattheo stood before you, his usual smirk absent, replaced with something unreadable. His dark curls were slightly disheveled, his hands stuffed into his pockets, and for once, he actually looked—uncertain.

It didn’t make sense. He was the most sought-after boy in the entire castle. Girls practically threw themselves at him, desperate for his attention, willing to be just another name on his long list of admirers. He could have anyone he wanted—so why was he here, asking you?

But his words echoed in your mind, colliding with the memories you tried so hard to bury.

"You're worthless." "Boys only want you for your pretty face." "You're nothing special."

Every cruel remark, every sharp insult, every moment he made you feel like you were never enough came rushing back.

Your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag as you lifted your gaze to meet his.

"You want to take me to the ball?" you asked, your voice calm, but there was an edge to it.

Mattheo shifted slightly, his jaw tightening. "Yeah."

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. "Why? Did you run out of girls to torment? Or do you just want another chance to remind me how I'm only good for my looks?"

His brows furrowed, and for a split second, something flickered in his expression—regret, maybe? But you refused to let yourself believe it.

"You don’t get to do this," you continued, your voice lower now, but no less firm. "You don’t get to spend months tearing me down and then act like it never happened. Like I should just forget."

Silence stretched between you. He opened his mouth, maybe to argue, maybe to apologize—but you didn’t care to hear it.