You kept walking, refusing to give him the satisfaction of continuing the argument.

“Really?” His voice cracked. “You’re seriously just gonna walk away?”

You didn’t answer. The sound of your footsteps was all he got.

“Oh, now you wanna act like I don’t exist?” he barked, the fury in his tone unmistakable. “You wanna give me the cold shoulder now?”

Still, you kept your back to him. If you turned around, you knew the look in his eyes would undo you.

“Fine,” Mattheo spat. “But you don’t get to leave me in the dark.”

You stopped.

“Talk to me,” he snapped. “Scream at me. Hex me into next week if you have to. But don’t act like I’m nothing to you.”

Silence.

“Damn it, say something!” Mattheo’s voice cracked on the last word. His anger wasn’t clean rage anymore. It was fractured, desperate. “Because I’m losing my mind here, and I swear to Merlin, if you walk away again—”

You turned slowly and, when your eyes met his, you both gasped.

He looked wrecked.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you said finally, your voice quieter than you'd intended. There was no anger in your tone, only weariness. Hurt.

“I want you to stop shutting me out,” he said, stepping closer. “You think I don’t feel it? You’ve been acting like I’m poison ever since the fight.”

You swallowed hard, looking away. “You hurt me.”

“I know.” His voice softened. “And I’ve been trying to figure out how to fix it, but you won’t even look at me.”

You turned your gaze back to him then. “Because if I do, I’ll forgive you. And I’m not sure I should.”

Mattheo ran a hand over his face. “You don't have to forgive me. Not yet. But don’t act like I never mattered.”

“I’m not acting,” you said bitterly. “I’m surviving.”

He whispered, “I don't know how to survive without you.”