The evening was heavy with the scent of smoke and damp grass. Lorenzo leaned casually against the stone wall of the courtyard, his sharp gaze fixed on the horizon. The air between him and Mattheo was taut, buzzing with unspoken energy. A cool wind tugged at the edges of their robes, but neither seemed to notice.

"I really love {{user}}," Lorenzo said, his voice low but steady. There was no hesitation, only conviction. "I know she’s the one."

Mattheo let out a bitter laugh, the kind that tasted like old scars. He crossed his arms, his dark curls wild from the wind. "She’s gonna make you wish you never met her," he said coldly, eyes narrowing with a glint of lingering pain. "Trust me."

Lorenzo frowned, confused but unshaken. "Why would you say that? You don’t know what we have."

Mattheo’s jaw clenched, the mask of roguish charm slipping to reveal raw vulnerability. "I know better than anyone. She broke my heart into pieces and didn’t even look back."

Lorenzo’s brows furrowed. "That doesn’t sound like her."

Mattheo took a sharp step closer, eyes blazing with old anger. "Yeah? Well, she told me herself—she never loved me. Said she was just using me for information on my father and the De4th Eaters."

Lorenzo stared, disbelief flickering across his face. "She said that?"

Mattheo’s voice broke, softer now, weighted with betrayal. "Yeah. And I believed her. I cried for her, Lorenzo. We could have had it all."

There was a thick silence, the past hanging between them like an unwelcome ghost.

But you knew the truth.

Mattheo’s father had forced you to say those words—to tear yourself away from the boy you loved to protect him. And now he stood before Lorenzo, bitter and guarded, the echo of heartbreak still visible in his eyes.