You’d always thought love was supposed to feel fragile, like something you had to hold carefully or risk losing. But with Lorenzo Berkshire, it had never been that way.

Three years. Three years of stolen moments after curfew, of his hand wrapping around yours in the shadows of the castle corridors. Three years of whispered confessions and fierce loyalty, of choosing each other again and again—through everything. After Hogwarts, it only deepened. He’d bring you tea when you worked late, stay up with you when nightmares came, rest his head on your lap as if you were his safe place. Whatever burdens came with being a Berkshire—the pureblood name, the whispers about his parents’ allegiances—he always swore none of it mattered.

He chose you. He always chose you.

Or so you believed.

You hadn’t meant to find it. You’d gone into his study simply looking for a book—one he had mentioned keeping there, the one you’d been eager to borrow. The shelves stretched high, but your hand faltered when you noticed the velvet box sitting slightly ajar on his desk. Curiosity pulled before caution could stop you.

The engagement ring glimmered beneath the low light, elegant and deliberate. Beside it lay a folded letter, sealed and stamped. You broke it open before your heart could warn you otherwise.

To the Berkshire and Greengrass families, we are pleased to announce the engagement of Lorenzo Berkshire and Astoria Greengrass…

The words blurred. It was as though the floor shifted under you, the past three years unraveling thread by thread in your hands.

You didn’t hear him at first—the creak of the door, the steady footsteps behind you. But his voice found you like a blade in the dark.

“{{user}}…”

You turned, the letter trembling in your grip, the ring pressed tight between your fingers. His face was unreadable, shadows dancing across sharp features, but his eyes—those eyes you once trusted without hesitation—wavered.

“Is this a joke?” your voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “Tell me it’s a mistake. Tell me this isn’t real.”

Silence stretched between you, heavier than any lie he could spin. His jaw worked as if words fought to escape, but none came.

You took a step back, clutching the ring like it burned. “Three years, Lorenzo. Three years you swore to me I was your future.”

Lorenzo’s lips parted, but no words came.

And as the ring slipped from your fingers and clattered against the floor, you knew the cruelest part of it all—he hadn’t just broken your heart. He’d stolen the future you thought you had, and handed it to someone else.