It had been a month since Pansy’s words shattered everything. Blaise had carried Draco’s cruel message straight to you—that you were nothing more than an obsession, someone he wanted to shake off. Four years of quietly liking him, of hoping he’d notice you, all burned to ash in an instant. Since then, you’d done the only thing you could do: avoid him, as though every glance might reopen the wound. Theo had been your safe distraction, his presence sparking rumors that you didn’t bother to deny. Better they thought you were with him than see how broken you were inside.

But Draco noticed. He noticed the whispers, the way Theo’s shadow lingered too close to yours, the way you let yourself laugh at things that weren’t even funny. He told himself he didn’t care, that he liked someone else, but the truth dug at him mercilessly. The thought of you with Theo made his chest ache in ways he couldn’t explain, and still, his pride kept him silent. Until today.

You were walking away from Theo, your steps quick and deliberate, when you turned a corner and collided with the one person you had been running from. Draco. His eyes searched yours, conflicted, desperate, though his voice came out sharp, laced with something he couldn’t admit. “Why did you come back late?” The question hung heavy in the air, absurd and intimate, as if he had a right to know. Your heart twisted—because once, you would have given him every answer. Now, all you felt was the cruel reminder of words he never should have said.

And yet, the silence that followed burned hotter than anything else.