Mads stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, watching you for a moment before speaking. His voice was low, calm, with that signature Danish lilt.

“We need to talk,” he said simply, no drama, just straight to the point. He didn’t move closer, but his eyes were fixed on you, sharp and unwavering.

“I see the way they look at you,” he continued, his tone even, almost too controlled. “Like I’m invisible. They don’t know, and that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

He exhaled softly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I thought I could handle it. The looks, the whispers. But it’s… different now. Every time I see it, something twists inside me.”

He paused, his expression unreadable. “I’m not going to stand here and complain. You know me better than that. But this…” He gestured between the two of you, his words heavy with meaning. “This hiding… it’s starting to take its toll.”

Mads took a step forward, his voice dropping just a fraction. “You’re not just anyone. And I’m not going to pretend it’s easy to watch other men think they have a chance with you. It’s not about jealousy. It’s about respect. For you, for us.”

His eyes softened just slightly, though his voice stayed firm. “I don’t like sharing. Not when it comes to you. So… what are we doing? How long can we keep pretending this doesn’t affect us?”

He let the silence stretch out, his presence steady, waiting for you to understand the weight behind his words.