The common room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. The fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth doing little to chase away the cold that had settled deep in your bones since the breakup.

You sat curled up on the velvet couch, legs tucked beneath you. It had been weeks—maybe even months—but time blurred when your heart ached like this. No matter how much you tried to move forward, your thoughts always found their way back to him.

Pansy slid onto the couch beside you. She didn’t ask if you were okay. She already knew. Instead, she leaned in slightly, lowering her voice so only you could hear.

"Do you still think about him?"

The question hit harder than you expected, though you should have known it was coming. There was no use pretending, not with her.

"Every day," you whispered.

Pansy sighed, not unkindly, but with that knowing look—the one that said she wished she could fix this for you.

Across the room, at the far end near the high-backed leather armchairs, Theodore leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. He had been watching Mattheo for a while now, noting the way his best friend sat hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees, fingers fidgeting with the silver ring he always wore.

"There are so many girls, Mattheo," Theodore mused. "Why her?"

Mattheo let out a slow breath, his jaw tightening as he turned the ring over in his hands.

"She made me believe I can be better," he admitted, his voice quieter than usual, almost as if saying it out loud made it real.

Theodore didn’t respond right away, but something in his gaze softened. He had always known—everyone had—that what you and Mattheo shared was different.

And then, as if the universe itself had conspired against you both, your eyes met his across the common room.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Neither of you breathed. It was as if the entire room, the entire world, had fallen away, leaving just the two of you locked in an unspoken battle of longing and regret.