[CHAPTER 20]

───🦋･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.🦋───

───🦋･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.🦋───

TITLE   : THE STALEMATE

BY NOW, ELLIE HAD perfected the art of pretending Mattheo Riddle  didn't exist.

Or at least, that was what she told herself.

Weeks had passed, and nothing had changed. The silent war between them continued, each of them unwilling to be the first to break.

Neither spoke to the other, neither acknowledged the growing weight of their unresolved tension.

The game of avoidance had turned into a habit, so deeply ingrained that it felt like second nature.

If Mattheo walked into a room, Ellie made sure she was already deeply engrossed in conversation with someone else.

If they happened to pass each other in the corridor, she would look straight ahead, never once letting her eyes flicker toward him.

If a professor ever called on one of them in class, the other would stare at their parchment, feigning complete disinterest.

It was as if they were both waiting for the other to crack first.

But neither did.

—

It wasn't that Ellie didn't want to break the silence.

It was that she couldn't.

Because what would she even say? Hey, Mattheo, I know we've been acting like strangers for weeks, but do you ever think about that night? Do you ever lie awake wondering what would've happened if we hadn't stopped?

No. That wasn't something she could ever admit—not to him, and definitely not to herself.

So instead, she held her ground.

Even when it hurt.

Even when she caught herself searching for him in crowded hallways.

Even when she saw him laughing with his teammates and hated the way it made her stomach twist.

Even when she wondered—more than she should—if he ever thought about her the way she thought about him.

—

Another week passed. Then another.

The routine remained the same.

They were in the same spaces, yet worlds apart.

At meals, Mattheo sat with the Quidditch team while Ellie stayed with Lorenzo  and the others.

There was never a moment where they were alone together, never an opportunity for the tension to crack under pressure. They made sure of it.

In Charms, Professor Flitwick assigned a group project that required them to work in pairs.

Ellie held her breath, waiting for the inevitable moment when she and Mattheo would be forced to acknowledge each other.

But before she could even process what was happening, Mattheo had already turned to another classmate.

Ellie did the same.

Neither hesitated. Neither reacted.

It was just another moment of pretending.

And yet, as she sat there listening to her new partner talk, she felt the weight of Mattheo's silence more than ever.

—

It was Lorenzo  who finally broke the subject again, though Ellie had been expecting it.

"You're both idiots," he muttered as they walked back from class one afternoon.

Ellie groaned. "Lorenzo , not this again."

"Yes, this again," he shot back. "Because it's getting ridiculous. You're acting like he doesn't exist, and he's doing the exact same thing."

"Exactly." Ellie gave him a pointed look. "So it's mutual. Problem solved."

Lorenzo  let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, sure. Because completely ignoring each other after pretending to date, then kissing, then refusing to talk about it is a perfectly normal and healthy way to handle things."

Ellie didn't reply.

Because, really, what was she supposed to say? That she hated how things had turned out? That she wished she had the courage to just talk to him? That, no matter how hard she tried, she still felt him in every space they shared?

No. She wasn't going to admit that.

So instead, she did what she had been doing for weeks.

She kept walking.

She kept pretending.

And she refused to break.

___

The library was supposed to be a place of quiet. A sanctuary where Ellie could drown herself in books, assignments, and anything that would keep her mind from wandering to him.

But that strategy had been failing her for weeks.

Tonight was no different.

She sat at one of the back tables, parchment spread out in front of her, quill poised between her fingers.

But she hadn't written a single word in the last ten minutes. Instead, she just stared—at nothing in particular—her mind an absolute mess.

The silence between her and Mattheo had lasted longer than she ever thought it would.

It was suffocating.

Exhausting.

And no matter how hard she tried to pretend it didn't matter, it was crushing her.

Her chest felt tight, and her hands trembled slightly as she clenched her quill.

This was stupid. So stupid.

Why was this affecting her so much? Why did it feel like something inside of her was breaking more and more every day?

She hadn't realized she was gripping her parchment too hard until a voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Ellie?"

She flinched slightly, looking up to see Lorenzo  standing across from her, brow furrowed in concern.

"I—" She cleared her throat and forced a small smile. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

Lorenzo  raised an eyebrow. "I could ask you the same thing. It's past midnight. Why are you still studying?"

Ellie looked at the blank parchment in front of her and let out a breathy laugh. "Studying might be a stretch. More like staring at my notes and accomplishing nothing."

Lorenzo  gave her a knowing look. He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down, folding his arms on the table. "Ellie."

The way he said her name made her throat tighten.

She swallowed hard and forced another smile. "I'm fine, Lorenzo ."

"Are you?" His voice was quiet, careful.

Her jaw clenched. "Yes."

A beat of silence.

Then—softly—"You don't have to pretend with me."

Ellie exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "I do though, don't I? Because if I don't, I'll fall apart. And if I fall apart, then—"

Her voice caught.

Then it happened.

The tears.

She hadn't even realized she was crying until Lorenzo's expression changed, his eyes softening with understanding.

"I don't know why I feel like this," she choked out, wiping at her cheeks furiously. "I mean, I do, but I shouldn't. It was supposed to be fake. It wasn't supposed to matter this much. But now—" She sucked in a sharp breath. "I feel like I lost something. And I don't even know what it was."

Lorenzo  didn't say anything. He just stood up, walked around the table, and pulled her into a hug.

Ellie stiffened for half a second before breaking completely.

Her hands clenched into the fabric of his robes as she buried her face into his shoulder, her whole body shaking with the force of everything she had been holding in for weeks.

Lorenzo  didn't say anything, didn't push her to talk. He just held her, rubbing slow circles on her back, waiting for her to breathe through it.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that.

Minutes? Hours? It didn't matter.

For the first time in weeks, she didn't feel like she was suffocating.

—

Across the library, standing in the shadows between towering bookshelves, Mattheo watched.

He hadn't meant to. He had come here to grab a book, but then he had seen her.

And then he had heard her voice, heard the cracks in it, the pain in every word.

And he had seen her cry.

It did something to him.

A sharp, painful twist in his chest that he didn't understand.

He couldn't hear everything she was saying, couldn't piece together the full conversation.

But he could see her curled into Lorenzo 's embrace, could see the way her shoulders shook as she gripped onto him like he was the only thing keeping her from breaking completely.

Mattheo should've looked away. Should've walked out of the library and pretended he hadn't seen any of it.

But he didn't.

He just stood there, jaw clenched, fists tightening at his sides.

He didn't know why it hurt.

He didn't know why his chest felt heavy.

He didn't know why seeing her in Lorenzo's arms made something inside of him ache.

But it did.

And for the first time in weeks, Mattheo wondered if maybe—just maybe—he had made a mistake.

───🦋･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.🦋───