The tension in the room was suffocating, wrapping around you like an iron vice. You stood frozen in the doorway, your fingers gripping the cold stone wall as Mattheo’s voice, raw with anger and something far more painful, cut through the silence.

"It has always been her, hasn’t it?" His voice wavered, but not from uncertainty—from heartbreak. "All this time, you wanted her."

Your breath hitched.

Tom stood by the desk, his posture composed, his expression unreadable. He turned a page of the book in his hand with deliberate slowness, as if Mattheo’s words were nothing more than an inconvenience. Finally, he exhaled, closing the book before lifting his gaze to meet Mattheo’s.

"It is not that simple, Mattheo," Tom said, his voice calm but firm.

Mattheo let out a sharp, bitter laugh, running a shaky hand through his dark curls. His eyes flickered toward you for the briefest moment before locking back onto Tom. There was something almost pleading in them, something that made your heart twist.

"Oh, it’s not that simple?" Mattheo repeated, voice rising. "You married the girl I am in love with, and now you’re telling me this isn’t easy for you?"

Tom’s gaze flickered toward you then, and a shiver ran down your spine.

"There are things you don’t understand, Mattheo," Tom continued, stepping forward, his presence like a force pressing against the room. "She was always meant to be mine. Her destiny and mine were always linked."

You felt the weight of his words settle deep inside you, heavy and inescapable.

"It’s a connection you could never understand," he said, voice like a whisper of fate itself.

"So yes," Tom murmured, his eyes never leaving yours, as if daring you to deny it.

"It has always been her."

Silence filled the room, thick with everything unsaid. You felt Mattheo’s gaze on you, searching, begging—for what, you weren’t sure. Maybe for you to refute it. Maybe for you to choose him.

But you said nothing.

And that silence was the cruelest answer of all.