The common room was cloaked in its usual eerie glow, the green light from the enchanted lamps reflecting off the dark leather sofas and the polished stone walls.

Pansy stood beside you, an eyebrow arched in that signature way of hers. Her dark eyes flicked over your face, searching for something—doubt, hesitation, regret. You weren’t sure what she was hoping to find.

“Why Theo?” she asked, voice low but sharp.

You knew this question had been coming. Everyone had their opinions—Theo was charming, brilliant in that quiet way, but he was also broken in ways people either ignored or exploited. You weren’t blind to it. You had simply chosen to see past it.

“He’s different from all the others,” you said finally.

Pansy scoffed. “Different?” she echoed. “Darling, they’re all the same in the end.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

Across the room, another conversation unfolded, one you weren’t meant to hear.

Mattheo leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him, his dark curls falling into his eyes as he studied Theodore, who sat across from him,. There was a smirk playing on Mattheo’s lips, but there was something else beneath it—curiosity, maybe even disbelief.

“She isn’t special,” Mattheo muttered, his voice just loud enough to carry. “Why her?”

Theo didn’t react immediately. His jaw tensed for just a moment before he finally spoke, his voice calm but firm.

“She made me quit alcoh0l,” he said simply, his eyes locked on the flames. Then, after a beat, he added, “And she made me a better man.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than the room itself. Mattheo didn’t reply. No one did.

Pansy’s gaze flicked toward Theo, something unreadable flashing across her face before she turned back to you. For once, she had no sharp remark, no sarcastic comment.

You swallowed, but the lump in your throat didn’t disappear.

You hadn’t expected Theo to say that. You hadn’t even realized he felt that way.

But now that you knew—you couldn’t unhear it.