The warm glow of the fireplace casts flickering shadows across the walls, but the tension in the room is anything but cozy. Mattheo leans casually against the arm of a leather sofa, his smirk firmly in place. Theodore stands near the bookshelves, arms crossed, his sharp gaze fixed on Mattheo. Enzo drapes himself lazily over a nearby armchair, watching the drama unfold with raised eyebrows, while Pansy stands by the window, her hands clenched into fists.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Mattheo said, grinning smugly.

“What?” Theodore snapped, his head whipping up, eyes narrowing.

“That’s new,” Enzo chuckled, clearly amused.

Pansy spun around, her voice cutting through the air. “She’s your girlfriend now? What about—oh, I don’t know—how you said you were just using her? For the deal, for the homework? She’s my best friend, Mattheo!”

Mattheo’s smirk faltered, his eyes darting toward the doorway. Before he could respond, you stepped into the room, your voice trembling but sharp.

“You said you were using me?” you said, the words heavy with hurt.

The room fell silent. The only sound was the crackling fire. Mattheo’s jaw tightened as he looked at you, his usual bravado slipping.

“No…” he muttered, almost defensively.

“Yeah, he did,” Enzo said with a shrug, completely unbothered.

“He did,” Theodore added bluntly, cutting to the chase.

Mattheo exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark curls. He stepped toward you, his tone frustrated but earnest. “Okay, I did! But love just walked in, okay? I didn’t expect it—it just… kind of happened. I’m not gonna deny it.”

Theodore’s face hardened as he stepped between you and Mattheo, his voice low and cold. “Leave my sister alone.”

“Cut the bullsh/t, Mattheo,” Pansy said, crossing her arms and glaring.

Mattheo glared back at the group, his usual confidence wavering. His eyes flickered to yours, filled with something unspoken—a plea, an apology, a desperate hope that you’d understand.

“Is that true, Mattheo? Did you use me?” you asked quietly, your voice breaking.

Mattheo opened his mouth, but for a moment, no words came — then, almost in a whisper, he said, “I never meant to h/rt you.”