Everything changed after he became a De4th Eater.

The moon hangs low, casting its pale silver light over the cracked cobbles. The cool night air bites your skin, but the cold in your chest is far worse. You stand a few feet apart, Mattheo's face half hidden in the shadows. His posture is rigid, his fists clenched at his sides.

"This isn't you," your voice shakes, barely above a whisper, but heavy with the weight of everything you've been holding in.

"It is me!" he snaps, his words sharp and defensive, like a blade cutting through the silence. "All of it - it's me!"

You flinch as if he's struck you, the words hitting harder than they should. Your throat tightens and you catch your breath, but you force yourself to meet his gaze, your tears shimmering in the moonlight.

"Then make me believe it," you beg, desperation bleeding into your voice. "Please..."

He opens his mouth as if to speak, but closes it again. The words die before they can form. He looks away, his jaw clenched, his expression unreadable.

A sob escapes your lips, unbidden, raw and shattering. Your voice rises, now tinged with anger. "You have nothing to say? Nothing?"

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice cracking under the weight of the confession. It's soft, almost inaudible, as if the words are as much for himself as they are for you.

You stare at him, your tears now flowing freely, burning hot trails down your cheeks. Sorry. That's all he has to say. Sorry. It feels like a cruel joke.

"Shame on me for having a human heart," you say, your voice bitter.

Your hands tremble as you wipe your face, your shoulders shaking with the effort of holding yourself together. You turn sharply and walk away.