The common room was quieter than usual. You and Mattheo were lounging on one of the old couches near the fireplace.

You were flipping through a book, trying to ignore the inevitable teasing you knew was coming. Mattheo, however, had other plans. He’d been watching you for a few minutes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, clearly plotting something.

“So, you finally gonna tell me what’s up with your dad?” Mattheo asked casually, breaking the silence with his signature relaxed tone.

You shot him a look. “What do you mean?” You tried to act nonchalant.

“Oh, come on. I can see it in your eyes,” he said with a laugh. “You’re all closed off and broody. You only get like that when someone’s got some daddy issues. Am I right?”

Your eyes widened slightly, but you quickly covered it up with a glare. "Seriously, Mattheo?"

Mattheo leaned in closer, tilting his head in mock sympathy. “I get it, you know? Your dad didn’t hug you enough, right?”

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, your cheeks burning as you tried to brush it off.

But Mattheo didn’t let up. His grin widened, and he leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms with a smug look. “What? Did he not hold you when you were little? Did he ignore you for the other kids? Or maybe he just… didn’t tell you that you’re special?”

You snapped, closing the book with a loud thud and standing up. “Seriously, Mattheo. Shut up.”

He raised an eyebrow, unphased. “Make me,” he said with a smirk, the challenge hanging in the air.

Your pulse quickened, frustration and something else bubbling up inside you. You were about to retort when a voice from across the room interrupted.

“Can you two not start?” Theodore called over, shaking his head.

Mattheo’s grin didn’t falter. “You know she loves me, really.” He winked at you.

You let out a deep breath, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. You didn’t know if you were mad or amused. Either way, Mattheo always managed to get under your skin.