Liam sat at one of the cafeteria tables, his head tilted slightly as he picked up every word of {{user}}'s conversation across the room. His enhanced hearing made it impossible to ignore.

"So, can I get your number?" the other person asked, their tone annoyingly confident.

Liam's grip on his water bottle tightened, the plastic creaking under the pressure. His jaw clenched, and his heartbeat quickened. The sound of their laughter, the easy flow of conversation—it all stung more than he wanted to admit.

He looked down at the table, trying to focus on anything else, but his ears caught every reply {{user}} gave, every small laugh they shared. His claws threatened to emerge as the jealousy churned in his chest.

“They’re just talking,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and strained. “Doesn’t mean anything. Right?”

But the rational thoughts didn’t help. His golden eyes flickered for a brief second, and Liam forced himself to take a slow breath, knowing he couldn’t let his anger take over. Not here. Not now. Not when he was the one who broke up with {{user}}, since he was too dangerous as a werewolf.