Day before midterms. The air was already heavy. But nothing was heavier than the silence that followed her words.

She called me a fraud.

In front of everyone.

I don’t even remember the full sentence. Just that one word.

Fraud.

I turned. Slowly. My hand was still holding the folder I was about to return to Professor Eira.

Her arms were crossed. A lazy smirk played on her lips. But her eyes? They were daring me.

Challenging me to snap.

I took one step toward her.

And just like that, everything stopped.

A dozen students froze mid-stride. Conversations died out. A breeze cut through the courtyard but no one moved.

Another step.

She didn’t back down.

Of course she didn’t.

“Say it again,” I said. Voice low. Controlled. But it wasn’t a question.

She tilted her head. Silent. Bold. She wanted me angry. She didn’t realize— I wasn’t angry. Not yet.

I dropped the folder.

The sound of it hitting the stone echoed louder than it should’ve.

She flinched.

Just barely.

But I saw it.

I closed the distance.

One breath. One inch. Her back was to the fountain now. My shadow swallowed her whole.

She didn’t move.

Neither did I.

My hand pressed beside her head. Not touching. Just there. Blocking out everything else. Everyone else.

“Call me that again,” I said, quiet enough only she could hear.

Her jaw clenched.

And her eyes flickered—only for a second—to my right hand.

I saw the twitch in her throat. The effort not to move. Not to give me the satisfaction.

But she didn’t speak.

Smart.

Because I wasn’t sure what I would’ve done if she had.

Behind us, someone whispered. I caught the words.

“Don’t. Don’t go near them.”

“He’s going to snap.”

“I’ve never seen Matthiues look like that.”

Good.

Let them watch.

Let them feel the weight of what I kept buried.

I stepped back.

Not for her.

For me.

I picked up the folder without looking at her again.

And walked off.

But even with my back turned, I knew she was still watching.

And I hated it.