You weren’t supposed to hear it. Just passing by, you caught the hushed congratulations, the murmurs of his name tied to hers. Engaged. The word burned like poison.

You found him later, alone in the quiet of the library, his hands folded over a book he wasn’t reading.

“Is it true?” Your voice cracked before you could steady it. “You’re engaged?”

Tom’s face was pale, hard. But his hands—trembling at his sides—gave him away. “I didn’t choose this.”

You shook your head, tears blurring. “Then fight it. Tell me this isn’t real, that you don’t want her—”

“I don’t!” The word ripped out of him, raw and furious. He grabbed your wrist, holding on like you were the only thing tethering him. His voice dropped to a breaking whisper. “Merlin, I don’t. You’re the only one I want.”

“Then why—”

“Because want isn’t enough.” His throat worked, the fury in his eyes shading into grief. “I was never meant to be yours. And you… you deserve more than a man who can’t even keep himself.”

You shook your head, but before you could plead, he let go. The absence of his touch felt like a wound. He turned away without another word, leaving you with the unbearable truth: he hadn’t stopped loving you. He was just choosing to bury it alive.