You hadn’t come here to fight. You had come here for answers. Yet somehow, standing in Theo’s dorm room, back against the cold stone wall, you feel like a child being scolded for something you don’t even remember doing.

“Theo,” you whisper. “I saw you with her.”

His expression doesn’t change—calm, collected, unreadable. “With who, {{user}}?”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like you don’t know.”

Theo exhales, stepping forward, his touch featherlight as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I don’t, bella,” he says sincerely. “Because there’s nothing to know.”

Your stomach twists. “I saw you, Theo.”

He hums, as if considering your words, then leans against the desk beside him, crossing his arms. “Okay,” he says finally, “tell me what you think you saw.”

Your lips part, but suddenly, you hesitate.

What had you seen? Him in the library, leaning in close to some girl, whispering something that made her laugh. His hand grazing her arm.

It had felt wrong. It looked wrong. But had he actually done anything?

“You were… close to her.” The words sound weak.

Theo raises an eyebrow. “Talking to someone is a crime now?”

“No, but—”

“But what, cara mia?” His voice is gentle, patient, like he’s guiding a child through a difficult lesson. “You’re upset over what exactly? That I exist in the same space as other women?”

“I just—” You swallow hard. “I felt like…”

“Felt like what, love?” Theo steps closer, his fingers skimming your jaw. “Felt like I was doing something wrong?” He smiles, soft and knowing. “Or are you just looking for a reason to push me away?”

You blink, staring at him, searching for the cracks in his mask. But there are none. There never are.

Theo has already rewritten the truth in what you saw.