The common room was buzzing with quiet chatter, the fire crackling softly in the hearth, but the heated exchange between you and Mattheo drowned out everything else. You stood in front of him, hands clenched into fists, your eyes blazing with frustration.

“You are not listening to me!” you shouted, your voice sharp and unwavering.

Mattheo smirked, that infuriatingly casual grin still plastered on his face as he stepped back just in time to duck your punch. “That’s because you’re crazy!” he shot back, his tone laced with mockery.

The words ignited something in you. You surged forward and shoved him hard in the chest. Mattheo stumbled, losing his balance, and fell onto the couch with an ungraceful thud. He muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, “Crazy woman.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you took a menacing step closer. “What did you say?” you demanded, your voice low and dangerous now, like the calm before a storm.

Mattheo’s eyes flickered with a mix of irritation and uncertainty as he shifted slightly on the couch. “I’m tired of you,” he muttered, though his voice lacked the venom of his earlier remarks. His gaze darted to yours, searching, guarded.

You closed the distance between you two, standing so close now that he had to tilt his head back slightly to meet your eyes. His posture tensed, unsure whether you were about to yell again or do something else entirely.

“Tired of me?” you echoed, your voice still sharp but softer, almost challenging. Your anger hadn’t ebbed, but there was a flicker of something more behind your words—an emotion Mattheo couldn’t quite place. He hesitated, caught off guard.

For a moment, silence stretched between you two, the tension in the air almost suffocating. The fire’s glow danced on his face as his lips parted slightly, but he said nothing. For once, Mattheo seemed at a loss for words.