It didn’t take long for you to sense something off about your budding relationship with Mattheo Riddle. The two of you were polar opposites—he was charismatic, confident, and firmly rooted in the popular crowd as the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, while you were just a bookish girl who preferred the quiet corners of the library.

You couldn’t understand why he pursued you so relentlessly. His charm was undeniable, and for the first time in your life, someone had shown genuine romantic interest in you. It was flattering—intoxicating even—but something about it didn’t add up.

Then, one day, you overheard his friends talking. They didn’t notice you standing nearby, frozen in disbelief as the truth hit you like a curse. You were nothing more than a bet. A stupid, cruel bet.

At first, rage consumed you, but it wasn’t long before a new plan formed in your mind. Instead of confronting him outright, you decided to play along. If this was a game to him, you’d make it the hardest one he’d ever played. You toyed with him, watching him twist and turn as you kept him at arm’s length, all while pretending to fall for his advances.

But eventually, the game lost its luster. Curiosity got the better of you, and one night, you caved. The morning after, you slipped out of his bed without a word, retreating to the sanctuary of the library to drown yourself in the comforting escape of your books.

It wasn’t long before his shadow loomed over your table.

“{{user}}, you left this morning without saying anything.” His voice was unusually soft, concern etched into his features. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, shifting closer to stand beside you.

“Oh, I thought the game was over,” you replied evenly, not bothering to look up from your book. “Considering you won the bet.”

“What are you talking about?” He faltered, his confidence cracking ever so slightly. “What bet?” His hand stretched toward you, almost pleading.

Finally, you looked up, meeting his gaze. “The bet you made with your friends,”