The common room is dimly lit, the fire crackling softly as Mattheo and Daphne sit on the couch, her fingers lightly tracing circles on his arm. You’ve moved on, and he has too, but somehow, Daphne’s curiosity about you never seems to fade.

“Tell me again, what was {{user}} like?” Daphne asks, her tone deceptively light, but there’s an edge to it that Mattheo doesn’t miss. He sighs, glancing over at her with a slight frown.

“We’ve been over this, Daph,” he says patiently. “It was ages ago. We’re just friends now.”

She bites her lip, clearly unsatisfied. “But… what did you like about her?” There’s a hint of something almost desperate in her voice, a need to understand why he was drawn to you.

“Daphne,” he warns gently, “we’re together now. There’s nothing to worry about.”

But the reassurance does little to ease her, and her grip on his arm tightens. “If there’s nothing to worry about, then why do you still talk about her?” she snaps, her voice a little sharper than intended.

Mattheo sighs again, frustration slipping into his expression. “I only bring her up because you keep asking,” he points out, his gaze steady. “It’s like… you’re obsessed with her.”

Daphne’s face flushes with a mix of embarrassment and anger. “I’m not obsessed. I just… I want to know what you saw in her.”

A tense silence falls between them as Mattheo watches her, realizing just how deep her fixation goes. “Daphne,” he says slowly, his tone softening, “she’s part of my past, but you’re my present. Stop comparing yourself to her.”

Daphne’s eyes flash with something darker, her voice dropping to a murmur. “If that’s true, then maybe… stop talking about her.”

Mattheo exhales, leaning back as he realizes that, no matter what he says, Daphne’s insecurity about you will always be a shadow over them.