[CHAPTER 24]

───🦋･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.🦋───

───🦋･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.🦋───

TITLE  : THE WEIGHT OF REGRET

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, MATTHEO felt like a ghost moving through the castle.

He hadn't slept. His mind had kept him up all night, replaying every mistake he had made—every look Ellie had given him before she finally stopped looking at him at all.

Now, he sat at the Gryffindor table, barely touching his breakfast. His teammates were discussing strategies for the next Quidditch match, but the words slipped past him like a breeze through an open window.

Ellie wasn't at breakfast.

Again.

His stomach churned.

How bad was she feeling? Was she still in bed? Was she really sick, or was it something worse—something deeper?

Lorenzo  hadn't looked at him since yesterday's confrontation, and Mattheo hadn't dared ask again. He could still feel the weight of Lorenzo 's grip on his collar, still hear the anger in his voice.

"She wouldn't be like this if it weren't for you."

Those words weren't going anywhere. They were tattooed onto his brain.

The more Mattheo thought about it, the more restless he became.

Maybe she wouldn't want to see him. Maybe she would slam the door in his face. But sitting here, doing nothing, wasn't an option anymore.

He had to see her.

—

Mattheo made his way to Slytherin dungeons after breakfast, ignoring the nervous twisting in his gut.

His steps were quick, determined.

But as he reached the top of the stairs, he slowed.

What was he even going to say?

"Sorry for being a complete prat?""Sorry for ignoring you for weeks?""Sorry for making you feel like nothing when you meant everything?"

His throat tightened.

He reached the entrance to the girls' dormitory and hesitated. The door was closed. He had no way of knowing if she was even inside.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his fist and knocked.

Nothing.

He knocked again, firmer this time.

Still nothing.

His heart sank.

Maybe she was asleep. Maybe she was actively ignoring him.

He didn't blame her either way.

With a defeated sigh, he turned to leave—

And nearly bumped into Lorenzo.

Mattheo froze.

Lorenzo's eyes darkened the moment they landed on him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Mattheo squared his shoulders. "I wanted to check on her."

Lorenzo  let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Oh, now you want to check on her?" He shook his head, looking at Mattheo like he was the last person on earth he wanted to see. "Unbelievable."

Mattheo clenched his jaw. "Enzo —"

"You think knocking on her door once is going to fix anything?" Lorenzo  cut him off, his voice low and harsh. "You are the reason she's like this."

Guilt stabbed through Mattheo's chest like a dagger.

"I know," he admitted, voice quieter now.

Lorenzo's expression flickered with something—maybe surprise. Maybe exhaustion. But it didn't soften his anger.

"You don't get to waltz back in when it's convenient for you," Lorenzo  muttered, stepping past him toward the dormitory. "She doesn't need you anymore, Riddle."

The words hit harder than Mattheo expected.

He didn't say anything as Lorenzo  knocked on Ellie's door—and she actually answered.

Mattheo's breath caught as the door creaked open just enough for him to see a glimpse of her—pale, tired, wrapped in a blanket.

She didn't even look at him.

Lorenzo  slipped inside, and before Mattheo could even process it, the door shut.

Right in his face.

Mattheo swallowed the lump in his throat, standing there for a moment, staring at the closed door.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

And for the first time in his life, he wasn't sure if he could fix this.

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Mattheo was losing his mind.

It had been days since he'd last spoken to Ellie—really spoken to her. Since then, all he had gotten were closed doors, icy silences, and a stomach full of regret.

And he deserved every bit of it.

But deserving it didn't mean he could live with it.

So, when he found himself walking towards Daphne  and Pansy after practice, he didn't stop himself.

If there was anyone who would give him the honest truth—no sugarcoating, no careful words—it was them.

He spotted them near the Quidditch stands, still packing up their gear. Taking a deep breath, he approached.

"Hey," he started, his voice unusually uncertain.

Both girls turned.

Daphne  arched an eyebrow. "What do you want?"

Mattheo hesitated. "I... I need to talk to you. Both of you."

Pansy, who had been tying her boot, straightened and crossed her arms. "This better be good, Riddle."

He sighed. "It's about Ellie."

The shift in their expressions was immediate.

Daphne's jaw tightened. Pansy's eyes narrowed.

"Are you serious right now?" Daphne  snapped.

Mattheo winced. "Look, I know I messed up—"

"Messed up?" Pansy scoffed. "Mattheo, she looks miserable. She barely eats, she barely sleeps, she hardly talks to anyone. She's not okay—and we all know why."

Mattheo ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling in his chest. "I know, alright? I know it's my fault. I shouldn't have ignored her. I shouldn't have let things get this bad. But I—I don't know what to do now."

Daphne  let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. "Unbelievable. You had weeks to fix this, and now you're coming to us?"

Mattheo swallowed. "I didn't—" He exhaled heavily. "I was an idiot, okay? I thought ignoring everything would make it easier. That if we pretended it didn't happen, we'd go back to normal."

"Normal?" Pansy repeated, incredulous. "Mattheo, she loved you."

His stomach clenched. "She never said that."

Daphne  threw her hands up. "Are you blind?!"

Mattheo clenched his jaw, guilt and frustration twisting inside him.

"Look," he said, quieter this time, "please. I just need your help. I need to fix this."

Pansy and Daphne exchanged a glance.

Then, finally, Daphne  sighed. "You need to talk to her," she said.

Mattheo frowned. "I tried—"

"No," Pansy cut him off, stepping closer. "You knocked on her door and walked away the second she didn't answer. That's not trying, Mattheo. That's cowardice."

He swallowed hard.

Daphne's expression softened, just slightly. "You need to have a real conversation with her. No pretending. No games. Just talk to her."

Mattheo exhaled slowly.

That was it? That was the solution?

Just talk to her?

After everything he had done?

After everything he had ruined?

He wasn't sure if she would even listen.

But what other choice did he have?

Daphne  and Pansy were right. He couldn't just sit around waiting for things to fix themselves. If he really wanted to make this right, he had to do something.

Even if she slammed the door in his face.

Even if she hated him.

He had to try.

So, with a determined breath, Mattheo nodded.

"Alright," he said. "I'll talk to her."

Daphne  eyed him carefully. "You better."

And for the first time in weeks, Mattheo felt like he finally knew what he needed to do.

───🦋･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.🦋───