The flickering light of the fire danced across the stone walls of the common room. You stood by the fireplace, arms crossed, a wry smile tugging at your lips. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken memories and buried resentments.

Tom leaned against the armrest of the leather sofa, his sharp features illuminated by the glow. His expression was as unreadable as ever—detached, calculating. Mattheo lounged on the opposite side, his posture relaxed but his dark eyes brimming with an edge you hadn’t seen before.

“Three of us together,” you finally broke the silence, your voice light but laced with something sharper. “Just like old times.”

You turned your gaze to Mattheo first, letting your smile twist into something teasing. “The brother who loves me too much,” you quipped, watching as his jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

Then your eyes shifted to Tom, your tone growing colder. “And the one who didn’t love me enough.”

Tom’s lips curled into the faintest smirk, but he didn’t respond. He didn’t need to; the weight of his stare said everything.

Mattheo chuckled darkly, breaking the tension. “And the evil witch who only loved herself,” he countered, his voice smooth but biting.

You tilted your head, studying him. “What happened to you, Mattheo?” you asked, feigning curiosity as your smile widened. “You used to be so sweet and polite.”

“Oh…” Mattheo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his grin turned razor-sharp. “That Mattheo d!ed a long time ago.”

“Good.” You stepped closer, your eyes narrowing. “He was boring.”

For a moment, the tension hung thick in the room, the flicker of the fire the only movement. Then Mattheo leaned back with a low laugh, Tom’s gaze still locked on you, unblinking, unreadable. The past, the grudges—it was all still there, simmering just beneath the surface.

And you couldn’t help but think, some things never change.