You and Mattheo sit together in the common room, hidden in the shadows away from the prying eyes of the world. The secret relationship you’ve shared, one born out of stolen moments and whispered promises, is starting to feel more like a curse than a blessing.

"You know I hate this," you say quietly. “I hate how we have to pretend. I hate hearing that your father already has his eye on someone else for you.”

Mattheo leans back slightly, his dark eyes watching you carefully. For a moment, it seems like he’s weighing what to say. Then, with a slow exhale, he leans in closer, brushing a hand along your cheek with a gentleness few ever get to see from him.

“Don’t get it twisted, love,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady. “I’m yours.” His words send a shiver through you, but it isn’t enough to ease the ache completely.

"Then why does it feel like I’m the one being kept secret?" you whisper, the hurt making itself evident in your voice.

Mattheo’s expression tightens, though not towards you—with the situation he can’t control. "Everything will be fine," he says, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "As long as you play your role."

"Play my role?" you repeat, feeling your emotions bubble to the surface.

"Yes." His tone sharpens. "We have to do this right—stay low, stay quiet—until it’s safe. I can’t risk him finding out."

You know this isn't easy for him either. For a moment, the two of you sit in silence, your hands still tangled together, your hearts caught between love and fear.

"Trust me," he whispers finally, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "This is just temporary."