You and Mattheo Riddle can’t stand each other.

He gets under your skin like no one else. Arrogant, sharp-tongued, always smirking like he knows something you don’t. You throw just as many insults back. The tension between you isn’t just heated—it’s toxic. Everyone knows you two are enemies. Always at each other’s throats. Always looking for a reason to fight.

So when you both show up at the same Slytherin party, you already feel the storm brewing. The common room is dark, music thumping, green and silver lights glowing through the haze of firewhisky and bad decisions. It’s crowded with seventh-years, half of them already drunk, and the other half chanting for someone to start a game.

Spin the bottle.

But with a twist.

Blindfolds. If the bottle lands on you, and someone else, you both go in a closet. Blindfolded. One hour. No names. No talking.

You try to back out. You should’ve backed out. But then someone shouts your name and shoves the bottle into your hand, and the entire room starts cheering.

You spin it.

It lands on someone.

You don’t know who. Blindfold goes on, and someone takes your hand, guiding you toward the closet. A second hand—his—brushes yours. You don’t recognize his touch, not in this moment. Not like this.

You’re both pushed into the dark closet and the door clicks shut.

It starts awkward. Tense. But then… something shifts.

There’s heat. Fingers. Breath against skin. A connection that feels unfamiliar but electric. Neither of you speak. You don’t dare to. The rule is silence. Maybe that’s what makes it easier. There’s no baggage, no names. Just chemistry. Raw and unfiltered.

And then it’s over.

You leave the closet without a word. Pull off your blindfold. The other person is already gone. You fade into the party crowd, dazed. Confused. Shaken by how… intense it was.

You try to forget it. Bury it. Pretend it never happened.

Until a week later.

You’ve been feeling off. Dizzy. Nauseous. You skip meals. You’re late.

You take a test just to rule it out.

Two lines.

Positive.

Your entire world spins. The closet. The blindfold. That night.

Who was it?

You tell no one. Not yet. You need to figure it out. Quietly. Safely.

And that’s when the truth slams into you.

Mattheo Riddle—of all people—is acting strange. Quieter. He’s watching you in class. He doesn’t look smug, for once. He almost looks… confused. On edge.

And then one night, you overhear him in the corridor, talking to Theo.

“I can’t stop thinking about her. I don’t even know who she is,” Mattheo says. “That night… something was different. I didn’t even know I could feel like that.”

Your stomach twists.

Because suddenly, you know.

You were the girl in the closet.

And he was the boy.

Your enemy. Your worst nightmare.

And now?

You’re pregnant with his child.