If you had told Hogwarts student Mattheo Riddle that he'd end up in Azkaban rotting in a cell; he wouldn't be surprised. With his last name and reputation it was expected of him because of his family tree.

But instead his life was a complete one eighty in the opposite direction of that. In fact he was married. He has married you, a woman who didn't mind wearing the last name Riddle. You wore it like a blessing, not like a curse. But with marriage came the idea of children. As the product of an affair with Voldemort and Beatric Lestrange, he wouldn't ever think of having children. He didn't even think about marriage.

That changed when a positive pregnancy test confirmed you and Mattheo were expecting and soon to be parents after 9 long months. Mattheo Riddle, didn't want children. He thought of them as messy, sticky. All they did was eat, sleep, and cry. His point of view all came crashing once he was in the hospital room with you, after watching you in labor for what felt like forever in agony, and then she was there. With the perfect blend of you both, your nose and lips, his eyes and that cursed curly hair she got from him and the Lestrange in her blood. Mattheo didn't cry a lot, rarely, with the exception of you walking down the aisle at your wedding. But tears streamed down his face the moment he held her. Once he laid eyes on her, he was obsessed—She was his heaven.

It had been three months since her birth. You found the spot next to you in bed, cold and empty. You left the dark room, as it reached almost two am. You looked through the house for Mattheo, not in the kitchen, not in the living room of the house you bought. Nowhere. You quietly reached the pink nursery and saw Mattheo half asleep on the love couch next to her crib against the wall. The three month old in a onesie with thick curls displayed on his chest as her tiny hands clenched against him while she laid there.