The dimly lit corridor owas suffocating. The flickering torchlight cast sharp shadows over Mattheo’s face, highlighting the storm raging in his eyes.

“You used me to help Harry!” His voice was raw, filled with betrayal.

Tears welled in your eyes, your throat tightening. “Mattheo, I am sorry… please just—”

He stepped back as if your presence alone was unbearable. “You used me,” he spat, shaking his head.

You felt your breath hitch, your heart pounding against your ribs. “Did you know that I loved you..?” The confession slipped from your lips, quiet but desperate, a last attempt to make him understand.

Mattheo let out a bitter laugh, devoid of any warmth. “You think I’ll believe that? After everything?” His voice cracked slightly at the end, but he masked it with a scoff, turning away.

Your fingers twitched, longing to reach for him, to make him stay, but your body remained frozen in place. He didn’t turn back. Not even once.

---

Four Weeks Later

Something was wrong. You had ignored the signs at first—the nausea, the dizziness, the overwhelming exhaustion. You had chalked it up to stress, to heartbreak, to the unbearable weight of Mattheo’s absence in your life.

But when the sickness didn’t stop, when you found yourself running to the bathroom every morning, a gnawing fear began to settle in your stomach.

Now, standing in the middle of your dormitory, your hands shook as you clutched the small pregnancy test. The two pink lines stared back at you, confirming what you had been too afraid to acknowledge.

Pregnant.

Your breath came in short, ragged gasps. Your knees gave out, and you collapsed onto the edge of your bed, pressing a trembling hand against your abdomen. Mattheo’s baby.

How could you tell him? Would he even listen? Would he believe you?

Tears blurred your vision as you curled in on yourself, the reality of it all crashing down like an unforgiving wave.

How could you face him now?