The wedding hall is grand, adorned with enchanted roses. A celebration of fate. Of inevitability.

You stand at the center, Tom’s ring resting heavy on your finger.

Mattheo stands at the edge of the room, watching.

He’s always known—always—that you were meant to be Tom’s. That your destiny was written long before either of you had a choice.

But knowing doesn’t mean accepting.

The moment he catches you alone, he pulls you aside.

"You don’t have to do this," he murmurs in a hoarse voice.

You inhale shakily before meeting his gaze. "Mattheo—"

"Tell me you don’t love me," he says suddenly. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that none of it meant anything. Tell me you never wanted me."

You can’t say it.

Mattheo’s breath shudders as he searches your face, looking for something—anything—that tells him you’re second-guessing this. That there’s still a chance.

But there isn’t.

Tom steps into the room watching the scene unfold with a knowing look.

"Is this what you want, Mattheo?" Tom asks calmly.

Mattheo’s hands tighten into fists. "You don’t deserve her."

Tom doesn’t flinch. He merely tilts his head. "And you think you do?"

"She was never meant to be yours." Tom reminds him.

Mattheo’s eyes flick to you, one last time.

"Say it," he whispers.

You take a step back.

"I’m sorry," you whisper.

Mattheo lets out a hollow laugh as he nods to himself. "Of course."

Tom watches as Mattheo turns and leaves, knowing that a piece of his heart would always be with you.