The first September breeze carried a chill through the open window of your dorm room, but all you could think about was Mattheo.

Summer had been a dream — warm nights under the stars, stolen kisses behind sand dunes, his fingers laced through yours as if he couldn’t imagine letting go. He called you trouble with a grin, his eyes always gleaming like he knew something you didn’t. You swam in rivers, raced each other across wide fields, and laid together on rooftops talking about nothing and everything until the sky turned lavender.

He’d told you you made him feel light. Like rules didn’t matter. Like maybe, for once, something could last.

So, when you returned to the castle, the silence was louder than it should have been. You hadn't seen him on the train; you hadn't caught even a glimpse of him. But it was fine, you told yourself. He was probably just busy.

You pulled out your phone, stared at the screen for a second, then typed:

You: Hey Matty

Delivered. Read.

Seconds ticked by.

Mattheo: what’s up?

You smiled. There it was - the familiar ease.

You: nothing much.. what about you?

You watched the typing bubble flicker. A full minute passed.

Then—

Mattheo: just wishing you’d stop texting me

Your heart paused. The words felt foreign. Like a cruel joke.

You: wait.. what?

Another pause. This one longer.

Mattheo: you were just a summer fling, {{user}}.

The words hit harder than any hex. Your fingers hovered above the screen, shaking slightly as you typed.

You: are you kidding right?

Delivered.

But the message didn’t stay long.

The chat turned gray.

Blocked.

And just like that, the boy who whispered promises in your ear, holding your hand as if it were sacred, was gone. You were left with only memories and a broken heart.