The warm, intimate glow of the candlelight flickered against the stone walls of your quarters, casting soft shadows across the table. The aroma of the carefully prepared meal filled the air, rich and savory, just the way Mattheo liked it. You had worked for hours, perfecting every detail, from the spices to the presentation.

Mattheo sat across from you, his usual easygoing grin replaced by a curious glint in his eye. He picked up his fork and took a bite, savoring it slowly. His brows knitted together in thought.

"How is it?" you asked, your voice smooth but edged with a hint of something darker.

"It's good... what is it?" he asked, his tone casual, though there was a subtle wariness behind it.

You leaned back in your chair, watching him carefully, your eyes glinting. "You've had it before."

He raised an eyebrow, the fork hovering just beneath his lips as he processed your words. "Really?"

"Sure, plenty of times." You tilted your head slightly, savoring the moment.

Mattheo paused, the realization dawning slowly. His gaze flickered to you, then back to the plate. "What kind of meat is it? 'Cause the texture is a little... different."

You smiled softly, leaning forward just enough for him to catch the subtle shift in your demeanor. "I think... her name was Michelle."

The fork dropped from Mattheo's hand, clattering against the plate with a sound that echoed too loudly in the sudden silence. His face drained of color, his usual charm momentarily replaced by shock. He looked up at you, but all he found was your unwavering gaze.

You leaned in, your voice a soft whisper that somehow held all the weight of the room. "I thought you'd love her even in this form... You said it was delicious, didn't you?"

Mattheo's mouth opened, but no words came out. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, as the reality of what he'd just eaten—and who he'd just eaten—settled in. The silence stretched out like a suffocating cloak, the warmth of the room feeling almost suffocating now.

He cheated on you with her.