Mathy had loved you with a devotion that bordered on desperation, but your heart had never mirrored his. It wasn’t cruelty — it was simply absence. The absence of that spark, that pull, that intangible something that made love feel like gravity. And so, you let him love you, knowing all the while that you could never give him enough in return.

The night was heavy with silence, save for the rhythmic sound of Lando’s breathing as you lay tangled in his arms. His presence was a balm, a quiet rebellion against the life you had built with Mathy. But rebellion has a way of catching up with you. The sound of the front door opening was like a thunderclap in the stillness, and your body tensed instinctively.

Lando didn’t move. He didn’t flinch, didn’t scramble to hide. He simply held you tighter, as if daring the world — or Mathy — to challenge what you had. His defiance was both maddening and intoxicating.

You sighed, the weight of inevitability pressing down on you as you untangled yourself from Lando and rose to your feet. The fight was coming, and you were tired of it before it even began. Tired of the lies, the guilt, the endless cycle of betrayal and forgiveness. But most of all, tired of the quiet cruelty you had inflicted on Mathy by never loving him enough.

The door swung open, and there he was — Mathy, his face a storm of confusion and rage. His eyes darted to Lando, still lounging on the couch as if he owned the place, and then back to you. “What the hell is this?” he demanded, his voice cracking under the weight of betrayal.