The tension in the room is suffocating. The soft hum of a clock ticking is the only sound until you finally break the silence.

“Okay, Theo… Spit it out. What’s wrong?” you ask, folding your arms.

Theodore leans against the wall, arms crossed, his jaw clenched like he’s trying to keep the words trapped.

“Come on, princess… let’s not pretend it’s not the truth. He’s an immature little boy, and you know it,” Theodore says, his voice low and biting.

You inhale sharply, his words cutting deep, but you don’t flinch. Instead, you narrow your eyes, seeing past the bravado.

“This isn’t really just about Mattheo, is it?” you reply, your tone challenging.

Theodore lets out a bitter laugh, pushing off the wall.

“Maybe it is all about you… and how you look at him, no matter what he does,” he says, frustration dripping from every syllable.

His words hang heavy in the air, raw and vulnerable, but they make your chest tighten.

“That’s not fair, Theo. This whole situation isn’t easy for him—or for me. You can’t just—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“You’re right, this is f/cking unfair. But come on, you’re not as blind as you pretend to be. You know I feel more for you than I’ve ever admitted… but you don’t want to see it. Because you’d rather prefer to be with him,” Theodore says.

The weight of his confession makes your breath hitch. For a moment, you can’t even find the words.

“Wow,” you whisper, the shock of it freezing you in place.

“It’s just the truth. He doesn’t give a f/ck about you or the child. Mattheo cares only about himself,” Theodore says, his tone cold and cutting.

His words burn, and your temper finally snaps.

“Shut up!” you shout, your voice trembling as you turn on your heel, storming toward the door.

But before you can leave, Theodore chases after you.

“I’m sorry… but… I know him. He will never make you happy,” Theodore says, his voice quieter now.

You freeze at the doorway, the tears threatening to spill over. His words echo in your head, but you can’t bear to look back.