Mattheo returned to the dorm well past curfew, a subtle yet undeniable shade of lipstick adorning his lips—a vivid contrast to the crimson hue that adorned yours. His shirt, usually impeccably buttoned, now displayed a deliberate disarray, buttons misaligned as if he had hastily corrected an error.

"Theo, really?" you questioned, a blend of concern and reproach in your voice. The atmosphere in the room was tense, charged with unspoken inquiries.

He met your gaze with an enigmatic expression, a knowing glint in his piercing brown eyes. His lips curled into a faint, mysterious smile, as if he held secrets that danced on the edges of revelation.