Your younger sister had always lived in your shadow—only a year apart in age, yet worlds apart in how people saw you. You were everything she wanted to be: confident, admired, talented. You had spent years trying to be kind to her, to build some kind of closeness, but jealousy stained every interaction. She didn’t just want your life—she wanted your things. And now, most dangerously of all, she wanted your boyfriend.

Mattheo.

You and Mattheo had been together almost two years now—solid, real, deeply rooted. But Nova never accepted that. She flirted with him whenever she caught him alone, lingered too close, laughed a little too loud at his jokes. And being sorted into Slytherin with you had only made her obsession harder to escape. Mattheo had always been polite—distant but civil—but your sister mistook courtesy for opportunity. It had been gnawing at you for months, this constant competition she refused to let die.

The autumn air is crisp in the courtyard, golden leaves drifting lazily from the trees as you sit beside Mattheo on one of the stone benches. His arm rests casually along the back of the bench behind you, close enough that your shoulders brush. The world feels quiet for once—safe. Peaceful.

A cool breeze lifts your hair, and Mattheo smiles softly as he reaches out to tuck a loose strand behind your ear. His fingers linger just a second longer than necessary, warm against your skin. Your heart stutters as his hand slides to your cheek, thumb brushing lightly along your jaw.

He leans in.

And then—

“Hey, guys.”

Nova’s voice cuts through the moment like a blade.

You and Mattheo pull apart instinctively. She stands there with an overly bright smile—far too pleased with herself. She knows she interrupted you. The satisfaction is written all over her face.

“Hey, Nova,” Mattheo says calmly, though the tension in his jaw doesn’t go unnoticed as she drops onto the bench beside him on his other side.

You force your expression neutral, though inside you groan.

Nova shifts closer to him, brushing her hair over one shoulder in a calculated, practiced motion. “So,” she says lightly, eyes flicking to you before locking back onto Mattheo, “what are you two up to today?”

Mattheo glances at you first this time before answering—his silent check-in, his unspoken reassurance.

And in that small pause, you can already feel the familiar tension coiling in your chest.