They were the kind of couple people whispered about—not out of envy, but curiosity. Mattheo Riddle, distant, sharp-edged, and impossible to read, had somehow chosen her. And she, bright in ways that softened even his darkest corners, had chosen him back. Their love wasn’t loud, but it was steady—woven into quiet glances, lingering touches, and the rare, fleeting smiles he only ever gave to her.