The evidence had been damning. Screenshots of messages you'd never sent. Photographs that looked real enough to convince everyone who mattered. And when you'd begged him to listen—really listen—he'd simply turned away.

The fallout had been swift. Friends you'd laughed with for years suddenly couldn't meet your eyes. Whispers followed you through corridors. Mattheo's cruelty had been the worst part, though. He didn't just leave. He made sure you knew exactly what he thought of you.

Now, the Great Hall buzzed with the usual morning chaos. Students crowded the long house tables, grabbing toast and pouring pumpkin juice, their voices echoing off the enchanted ceiling. You sat alone at the far end of the Slytherin table, the empty space around you a familiar reminder of everything you'd lost.

Across the hall, Mattheo sat with his friends—Lorenzo, Theodore, Blaise, Draco, Pansy, Daphne, and Astoria. They laughed about something, easy and comfortable, as if the world hadn't shifted on its axis three months ago.

The morning post arrived in a flurry of wings. Owls swooped through the open windows, dropping letters and packages into waiting hands. A large barn owl banked toward the Slytherin table, a folded copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in its talons.

It dropped the paper in front of Mattheo and soared away without waiting for a treat.