HIDDEN FATES [Mattheo Riddle]

FIVE

CHAPTER FIVE
—
First Impressions

Wednesday rolled around, and with it came an uneasy stillness that clung to me like a fog. I hadn't slept much, the dim light of early morning casting shadows across the dorm ceiling as I lay wide awake. The clock read five AM, but I had been up long before that, tossing and turning, my thoughts a relentless cycle of anxiety and regret.

Tuesday had been a mess. I had spent most of the afternoon lying through my teeth to my friends. The weight of those lies pressed heavily on my chest, making me feel queasy. I hadn't known I was capable of lying so easily until now. It was humiliating to admit that I was bound to Mattheo Riddle by an arranged marriage—too humiliating, in fact. How could I ever explain that to my friends? That my future wasn't mine, that I was caught in a tangled web of family obligations and a boy who wasn't even supposed to be part of my life?

My stomach twisted just thinking about it.

The morning dragged, a slow, painful march toward the inevitable. The dorm was unusually quiet, the tension thick enough to choke on. The other girls barely looked at me, their conversations hushed and stilted whenever I approached. It was like I had become some kind of outcast overnight, and any attempt I made to join in on their discussions seemed to kill them instantly. It felt lonely, isolating. We used to get along so well, but now they acted like I had become something foreign, someone they didn't know how to talk to anymore.

To top it all off, the internet had exploded with pictures and videos of me and Mattheo. The juice incident had been wiped from the web, but in its place were images of us walking together, his arm around me, the two of us smiling—or rather, him smiling while I awkwardly endured the whole charade. Seeing myself plastered all over social media was jarring. It made me hyper-aware of every flaw, every awkward angle, every moment I didn't know was being captured.

By the time I reached the moving staircases on my way to class, I was exhausted. The last thing I needed was more attention, but of course, Mattheo had other plans.

"You're sitting with me at lunch today," his voice came out of nowhere as he appeared beside me, effortlessly keeping pace as we descended the stairs.

I shot him a frown, not even bothering to hide my frustration. "No way," I hissed, just as a group of first years scurried past, casting me curious glances.

Mattheo only chuckled, his hand suddenly slipping into mine as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His grip was firm, confident, and somehow it managed to erase the sharpness of my words. We looked like a real couple—like the couple everyone thought we were.

Damn it, why was he so good at this?

"I don't want to," I sighed, looking up at him, my voice laced with exasperation.

"That's a shame," Mattheo said smoothly, flashing me a smirk. "I don't recall giving you an option."

I pulled him to a stop, yanking my hand out of his grasp. "I'm not sitting with you at lunch," I said firmly, crossing my arms over my chest.

He rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed with my defiance. "My friends won't stop bothering me about you," he explained, his tone slipping into one of mild irritation. "So you're sitting with me so I won't have to hear about it."

A wave of anxiety rippled through me. His friends? The same ones who always loomed in the background, with their sharp eyes and sharper tongues? They looked like they'd beat someone up just for fun—no way was I sitting with them.

"I don't want to meet them," I muttered, trying to pull away from him, but Mattheo held fast, his grip tightening as he yanked me closer instead.

"They don't bite," he said, his tone softening as if he were trying to reassure me. "Besides, do you really want to sit with your friends? The ones who keep questioning you?"