The words hung in the air, sharp and unfair. Mattheo's hand tightened around his goblet, knuckles white, but his face didn't change.

Across the table, Y/n tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and Sebastian said something that made her smile, a real smile, the kind Mattheo used to be the only one who could pull out of her. A cold wave of feeling crashed through his chest, thick and horrible, and he hated every second of it.

He had no right to care. He'd told her that himself.

But Merlin, he cared. He cared so much it was eating him alive.