──⋅✮ perfect little family
ㅤㅤ ㅤ⭑ pairing. ex!toji zenin x reader
ㅤㅤ ㅤ⭑ about. you had left this house a few months ago; it was never part of your plans to come back. the story was over and more than anything, you knew it would only break your heart all over again. no sorcerers!au (wc: 18.090)
ㅤㅤ ㅤ.ᐟ warnings. suggestive. past toxic behaviour (from both). good dad/bad husband toji. chubby reader.
ㅤㅤ ㅤᯓ masterlist.
⭑ more about them.
It was probably the worst thing that could have happened to you.
You were on the floor, your little boy crying at your side, his two puppies whining and howling right along with him. Cocoa powder dusted the kitchen counters, your hair, and the tiles beneath you—the packet still clutched in your hand from when you fell.
Megumi was trying to reach you with teary eyes—Shiro and Kuro, his two puppies, were loyal by his sides.
The kitchen chair you'd been standing on lay completely toppled over now, a cracked dent splintering the tile where it had landed. It had broken your fall just enough to make it survivable but breaking your leg in the process. At least, you were fairly certain it was broken, judging by the sharp, relentless pain screaming through it and the weird looking bump in the front of your leg.
You refused to panic. You sat there for a few seconds, breathing through it, until your very little, very tired, very young son began crying and inching closer. In his four-year-old mind, you knew exactly what he was thinking. This was his fault. Megumi had been the one who asked for hot cocoa because he couldn't sleep. If he hadn't asked, you wouldn't have climbed onto the chair at all.
You reassured him anyway, even as tears threatened to spill from the pain flaring through your leg and the wrist you'd landed on. Your backside throbbed too, but that felt like shock more than anything else. Your leg, though? That was a real problem.
"Shh, baby, it's okay," you murmured, pulling him close against your chest as you leaned back against the kitchen counter. "It's not your fault, Gumi."
"You hurt," he hiccuped. His two puppies rested their snouts on the thigh he wasn't sitting on, tails tucked and eyes wide.
"Yeah," you winced, trying and immediately failing to move your leg to assess the damage. You'd been with an EMT for eleven years. You knew you were fucked. "Gonna have to call an ambulance."
"Daddy?" Megumi asked quietly, his head still tucked against your neck.
"No, not Daddy," you sighed, tipping your head back as your fingers absently ran through Chika's white fur—actually praying your ex husband wasn't working tonight.
"But Daddy is an ambulance," he mumbled, his crying finally slowing.
Despite everything, a soft laugh slipped out of you. "He's not an ambulance, baby. He's an EMT. He's one of the people who work in the ambulance."
After ten minutes on the phone with emergency services, they finally understood that you couldn't get yourself to the nearest ER and neither could your four year old son. It wasn't as if you could call a friend and have them move you without risking making it worse.
Toji had always drilled it into you: never touch someone who's seriously hurt. Always call an ambulance. They had training. Protocols. They knew how to handle fractures like this. Harass them if you had to, that was your ex's words.
They told you they'd be there in twenty minutes, and you prayed they would be on time. It was getting late, and Megumi was still shaking slightly against you. That hurt more than your leg ever could. He was so small. So fragile. You never wanted him hurt—but he was deeply empathetic, especially with his parents, and you knew all you could do was hold him until he calmed on his own.
To your utter lack of luck, your parents were out of town for the winter, escaping the cold as they always did before coming back right for Christmas and New Year's. That left you with only two options: take Megumi with you to the hospital, or call his father.
His father, who was either sleeping or working.
The answer was quickly answered when you heard hard and loud knock on your front door followed by an masculine voice presenting themselves as the ambulance. Not having any other choices, you asked Megumi to go open the door, his puppies following behind him. Not that they would be any help if it wasn't paramedics.
Thankfully, it was the ambulance you had called.
After assessing the damage to your legs, they decided it was best to get you to the ER immediately. One of the paramedics asked if someone was coming to watch your kid.
Megumi, meanwhile, had been thoroughly distracted by the other paramedic, who was explaining the bones of the human body to him. It was painfully cute—your little boy, teary-eyed, listening with absolute focus, his small hands clutching his bunny plushie.
"No," you said with a tight smile. "He has to come with us."
It was the weekend, so at least he didn't have school the next day but still, you hated the idea of him missing his bedtime. Either way, even if he went to his dad's, you knew he wouldn't sleep. The night had already been far too stressful for a four year old.
"Your husband isn't here?" the man asked, glancing around your kitchen with thinly veiled condescension.
"Don't have one," you replied immediately, already bristling at his tone.
"His dad, then?" he pressed, unchanged.
"Working," you deadpanned.
He let out a heavy sigh and looked back at your son, who was rubbing his eyes and smiling softly as he pointed at his knee. The paramedic beside him chuckled and raised a hand for a high-five, which Megumi returned without hesitation. You caught the flicker of irritation in the other man's eyes, clearly unhappy about having to bring your kid along but there weren't any other options.
"Dogs have to stay," he concluded curtly before standing and leaving the kitchen.
"Yeah, no way, fucker," you muttered under your breath, shaking your head. "Gumi, baby," you called gently.
Megumi padded over at once, his four-legged companions trailing behind him. As quiet as ever, he settled beside you, slipping one small hand into yours while the other stayed wrapped around his white bunny.
"We're going to go to the hospital, okay?" you said softly.
When he nodded, you went on, "It's going to be a long night, but when we come home we'll sleep in for as long as you want, yeah?"
You could practically see the gears turning in his little head. "Sleep together? The four of us?" he asked, glancing briefly at his dogs.
"Whatever you want, baby. In Mama's bed, yeah?" You pulled him closer and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
By the time they came back with the stretcher, Megumi was ready. You'd told him to grab a few things to pass the time, and he'd taken the task very seriously, packing a couple of books and a few favourite toys into his small Paw Patrol backpack, slung over his shoulders like he was heading to school.
His bunny was still clutched tightly in his arms, hugged close to his chest. He'd wanted to bring his wolf plushie too, but you'd insisted on just one. You didn't want him losing both of his favourites.
The kinder paramedics held his hand as they carefully wheeled you out of the apartment, taking their time down the stairs. Before leaving, you'd asked Megumi to fill the dogs' bowls with food and water—you had no idea how long you'd be gone.
Less than fifteen minutes later, you were dropped off at the hospital's emergency department, transferred into a wheelchair. Arriving by ambulance meant skipping the waiting room, but it didn't mean things moved quickly.
Your hospital bracelet read 9:34 p.m. By the time the doctor finished setting the cast on your leg after the X-ray confirmed a clean fracture—it was almost 2 a.m.
Megumi laid curled against you on the narrow bed they'd placed you in after the x-ray, fast asleep. Or trying to be. Without his dogs, his sleep wasn't peaceful. He was dressed in his frog pyjamas, shivering every now and then from the cold, despite the jacket you'd draped over him.
You understood the ER kept the AC running to keep the place from overheating, but this was excessive. Still, you said nothing. You didn't complain when the nurses forgot your pain medication. You didn't complain when the doctor was called away halfway through your cast. You didn't complain when he was supposed to return quickly with your prescription and showed up nearly forty five minutes later.
But you did raise your voice when the nurse refused to let you leave on your own.
All you'd asked was to be wheeled outside so you could order an Uber, get home, and put your son to bed. That was it. The nurse, however, wasn't budging. He kept repeating that legally, he couldn't let you leave alone, that they needed to call your emergency contact.
And when he said Toji Zenin, you saw red. They would not be calling your ex-husband in the middle of the night.
You were throwing a fit, your son sitting in your lap, not understanding why you didn't want them to call his dad. Quiet, helpless tears slid down his cheeks as he watched you grow more agitated with the medical staff. When the nurse realised you weren't going to back down, he called the head nurse and the night attending.
"Ma'am, we cannot let you leave on your own," the attending said, trying to sound calm, though you could tell you were already irritating her.
Normally, you would've apologized for overreacting, blamed the exhaustion. But you couldn't let Toji walk into the ER and see his son like this. See you like this—hurt, exhausted, barely holding it together. It wasn't his role anymore. If it had been Megumi who was injured, you would've called him immediately. But you? You weren't his responsibility now.
"He's an ex-husband for a reason," you said tightly. "I understand you can't just let me go, but I'll sign whatever paperwork you need, saying I won't sue the hospital if I hurt myself more." Your voice cracked with frustration. "I just want to get my son to bed."
"You are in no condition to take care of yourself or your child, ma'am," the doctor replied, firmer now. "I'm sorry, but we have to call him. Whether you like it or not." She turned away, already reaching for the phone.
If Megumi hadn't been in your lap, you might've stood up right then and there—cast or no cast—to hang up the phone yourself. But his quiet hiccup, the way he tried to stifle his crying, snapped you out of your rage. You looked down at him, at how small and fragile he looked, and your shoulders sagged.
Instead, you pulled him closer, murmuring softly, rocking him until his sobs eased.
"Mr. Zenin?" you heard vaguely. "Doctor Ieiri here. I'm calling because you're listed as the emergency contact for—"
You stopped listening after that.
From your old place, Toji could be here in less than ten minutes. That had been one of the reasons you'd chosen the house when you were pregnant—close to a school, close to a hospital. That had been your only standard for a house and your old house had been exactly that.
"Thank you, sir. We'll be waiting for you," the doctor said before hanging up.
After that, they moved you to a small corner of the hallway so you wouldn't occupy a room anymore. As you waited, you read to your son, doing your best to distract him from the memory of his mother yelling at medical staff.
It was an interactive book with animal sounds, always a hit with your son. A soft smile curved your lips as Megumi became fully absorbed, even though he'd had you—and his father, you were sure—read it to him nearly every day.
Hearing your name made him look up. Mostly because he recognized his father's voice, too.
"Daddy," he said, carefully climbing off your lap, mindful of your injury.
You closed the book just in time to watch his small legs carry him forward, arms already lifted. Instinctively, Toji crouched and scooped him up without hesitation. Megumi looked impossibly small in his arms, your ex-husband all muscle and broad shoulders, swallowing him whole.
After pressing a kiss to Megumi's temple, he turned toward you, anger flashing in his eyes. He looked exhausted, no doubt that they'd dragged him out of bed with a 2:30 a.m. phone call. You already knew where this was going. He'd rant about how you should have called him, if only to take care of Megumi—frame it like you'd failed as a mother.
When he stopped in front of you, you looked up, irritation plain on your face.
"Don't start," you warned. "I told them not to call you."
"Yeah, I know," he shot back. "Doctor said you were being aggressive with her staff." His tone was sharp, but his gaze flicked down when the weight against his chest went slack.
Megumi had fallen asleep almost instantly, lulled by his father's warmth.
You rolled your eyes and slid the book back into your son's backpack. "If they'd listened to me, Megumi would be in his bed right now."
"Yeah, no," he muttered, shifting Megumi higher with practiced ease before grabbing the handles of your wheelchair. "I'm not doing this right now."
And just like that, you were being wheeled straight out of the hospital and into his car—a car parked shamelessly in the ambulance bay.
"Can you even park here?" you asked as he settled Megumi into the car seat without waking him.
"Got privileges," he replied flatly. "Ran into a couple coworkers."
"One named Mahito?" you asked, watching the careful way he buckled your son in.
"I know him," he said, frowning slightly as he closed the door. "Not on my team. Why?"
When his eyes lifted back to yours, you caught it, possessive curiosity, sharp and immediate, at the mention of another man. He masked it by opening the passenger door and reaching for you.
"He was pretty rude, honestly," you said, bracing your hand to help yourself in.
You barely registered the click of his tongue before he scooped you up instead, lifting you carefully and settling you into the seat like you weighed nothing. He even leaned in to fasten your seatbelt himself, invading your space without hesitation.
He never had cared much about personal space, and you used to love that.
"Yeah," he added, finally, as he straightened. "He's got multiple complaints."
"Figures," you muttered as he shut the door and walked back inside to return the wheelchair.
The ride was quiet after that. Neither of you had the energy to argue—not at this hour. You were relieved to see he wasn't driving toward your old shared house like you'd feared. All you wanted was to crawl into bed, curl around your son, and sleep. It was late. You'd worked all week, looking forward to a calm, quiet weekend.
Apparently, karma had other plans.
When Toji pulled up in front of your building, you reached for the door, already planning the next steps. The ER had given you crutches—or maybe Toji had insisted on them—so all you needed was for him to grab Megumi. Easy.
Except the door wouldn't open. You tried again. Nothing. He'd locked the car using the child safety lock, making it impossible to open from the inside.
"What are you doing?" you asked, frowning as you turned to him.
"Give me your keys," he said, ignoring your question.
"No," you snapped, tugging uselessly at the handle again.
Behind you, he sighed, muttering under his breath, "I try to be fucking nice."
Then he got out of the car, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the frame. However, he caught it before it would made a loud sound, waking Megumi. You hated how his sharp reflexes—fast, controlled, dangerous—still managed to make him look unfairly good and hot.
For a second, you wondered if he was really going to let you struggle inside on your own. Then you saw what he pulled from his pocket. A set of keys. With a small frog keychain.
"Fuck," you breathed.
The spare.
You'd given it to him after you moved—after a lot of thought. If Megumi ever had an emergency and you were unconscious or worse, you wanted Toji to be able to get in. That meant he had a key. Just like you'd kept one to the old house.
About seven minutes later, you saw him again.
He came into view carrying two bags stuffed with what you assumed were yours and Megumi's things, two leashes looped around his wrist, the puppies trotting along behind him. Rounding the car, he opened the trunk and loaded everything inside—bags, dogs, all of it.
The doctor had signed you off work for at least a month, asking for another X-ray and possibly another cast depending on the results. You hoped it would heal cleanly but there was no universe in which Toji imagined you spending that month with him. Your old house didn't have a guest room, and the couch was far from being comfortable.
"Toji, we're not staying with you," you said once he slid back into the driver's seat, your voice exhausted more than angry.
"There ain't no we," he replied flatly. "Meg's staying with me as long as you've got that cast. And since you can't even take care of yourself properly, especially not in a fucking duplex, you are too."
"Toji—" you started, irritation creeping back in.
"It wasn't a suggestion," he cut in, ending the conversation right there.
His tone was firm, final. His eyes stayed on the road, flicking only occasionally toward the sleeping toddler in the back. The dogs whined softly, recognising his presence and wanting closer, their noses surely pressed against the seats.
"I'm not sleeping on the fucking couch," you snapped, deciding to let him have this, for now.
There would be a moment when he wouldn't be there. A moment when he wouldn't be hovering, controlling, deciding things for you. And when that moment came, you'd go home. You were a grown woman, no matter how much he treated you like a moody teenager.
To that, he only scoffed, shaking his head without bothering to respond.
When he pulled into the familiar driveway of your old house, he got out first. You reached for the door, but it was still locked from the inside. The complaint was already on your tongue but when you turned to voice it, your eyes landed on your son's peaceful face.
So you stayed quiet.
You watched as Toji carried the bags inside, leading the dogs with him—likely letting them out into the yard first. Then he came back, opening the back door. Gently, carefully, he unbuckled Megumi and lifted him into his arms, your son's bunny plushie looking impossibly small in Toji's large hand.
"I told him he'd sleep with me," you whispered, aware that Megumi always remembered—even half-asleep and he always stirred when he was put down.
Then it was your turn.
Toji came back to the car for the third time. He didn't say a word—just lifted you into his arms like you weighed nothing, locked the car, and then the front door behind you.
The house looked exactly the same as it had when you'd left a year and a half ago. Same furniture. Same smell. Same quiet sense of comfort. Even in the dark, you felt it, the lingering warmth of a place that had once been a family home.
He carried you straight to the bedroom.
Megumi was already there, sitting under the blankets in the middle of the bed and rubbing at his tired eyes.
"Mama," he whined softly when he saw his father carrying you in.
His puppies were curled up at his feet, sprawled across the middle of the bed, just as exhausted as the rest of you. Gently, Toji laid you down on your side of the bed, right next to your son. Megumi immediately nestled into you, small hands clenching your shirt with all the strength his tired little body could manage.
When he didn't see his father climbing in beside you, he whined again. "Daddy?"
"I'm right here, Meg," Toji replied, already tugging off his jeans and swapping them for a pair of joggers.
His shirt soon joined the pile on the floor before he crossed the room to draw the heavy curtains shut. If they'd been left open, it would've meant an early shift but you knew him well enough to know he'd already called in.
Then he slipped into his side of the bed and turned off the light.
You heard the soft click of his tongue, followed by the quiet whines of the puppies, which made you let out a breathless laugh. Moments later, you felt his warm hand settle over Megumi's stomach, fingers brushing against your stomach.
The instant Megumi felt his dad beside him, he released a long, contented sigh and melted even further into your chest. The comfort of it all, combined with the dull ache in your leg and the bone-deep exhaustion pulled you under quickly.
It had nothing to do with the familiar comfort of the old bed, or the warmth of Toji's hand resting so close to you. Nothing at all.
The quiet domesticity felt like nostalgia wrapped around your ribs, tight enough to sting. It might've brought tears to your eyes, if you hadn't already drifted off to sleep.
The next few days were rough.
They were filled with quiet irritation, mostly at the way Toji kept making decisions for you, insisting you stay in your old house. You understood his argument when it came to Megumi and would've gladly left your son there if needed but Toji still refused to let you go home on your own.
The only thing that truly warmed your heart was how happy Megumi was.
You saw it in the way his face lit up when he woke from a nap and found both his parents sitting on the couch. In the way his eyes shone with pure affection on Sunday mornings, when the three of you sat at the dining table together—just like when he was smaller, when this had been his normal.
The divorce had been a mess. Six long months of arguments and lawyers before you'd finally learned how to talk to each other again—if only for your son's sake.
Being trapped within those walls brought everything back. The dark days. The slow unravelling. The way everything had fallen apart. It had hurt deeply, a painful mix of broken trust and betrayal. You'd both made mistakes by the end of the marriage, but that didn't make the pain any lighter.
The fights had started on an ordinary night.
You'd just put Megumi back to bed. He was transitioning from breastfeeding to solid food, and your hormones were spiralling from the abrupt change combined with your first periods coming back. Your thoughts felt scattered, your emotions constantly unsteady and you were so tired. You'd always been clear, you wanted only one child.
And yet, suddenly, you found yourself wanting another. Megumi had been such a gentle, angelic baby. How could you not want more of that? That same night, you brought it up to Toji.
His answer had been immediate. Final. No.
He didn't ask why. Didn't listen to your reasons. After saying it once, he laid back on the bed and scrolled through his phone while you tried to explain yourself—listing every reason you felt the way you did.
Then came his words.
"Your little brain is fried from hormones," he'd said flatly. "You don't know what you want."
That shut you up for the night.
But your mind didn't let it go. Deep down, you knew he might be partly right, that your hormones were throwing everything out of balance. And still, the idea didn't make you unhappy. The thought of another baby didn't feel wrong.
Apparently, it did to him.
For days, you tried to talk about it again. And every time, he shut you down. Eventually, he barely listened to you at all—even when the subject had nothing to do with children. Work had been stressful, and while he knew it wasn't an excuse to be cruel, he couldn't seem to stop himself.
All he wanted was to crawl into bed with his wife at the end of the day and not worry about whether you'd taken your pills.
One morning, you caught him counting your tablets. Watching. Making sure. That was the first time he broke your trust.
You never imagined your husband would think you'd go behind his back, get pregnant without his knowledge. That wasn't who you were. But apparently, it was who he thought you could be.
After that, you had stopped talking to him. Completely.
Aside from a curt Good morning or the occasional frantic call when Megumi was sick or doing something weird, words between you were rare. Most of your days were spent debating whether to try couples therapy or just taking care of your son, who filled your heart with more joy than anything else.
He was working more than usual anyways, taking on double shifts. He was even making it hard to have a conversation about it.
Megumi was the only thing that made both of you truly happy. So why not have another? Another little life to try and recapture some of that happiness? You knew it was a terrible argument, one you couldn't win with but your mind still drifted, daydreaming about holding another tiny bean in your arms. Forgetting all about the bad times.
It was during one of those daydreams that your marriage finally shattered.
It was a day off. Toji had said he'd be home by noon, but now it was nearly three. Megumi napped softly in the crib while you lounged on the couch, watching whatever was on, gently caressing your belly.
The front door opened, and something about him immediately felt off. The way he walked, the slight wince with every step, the exaggerated groan as he sank onto the couch.
When he spoke, you knew, it was over.
"I got a vasectomy."
Just like that.
He had gone behind your back, done something permanent without so much as a discussion. He hadn't waited for a few weeks for your hormones to settle. He hadn't considered you as his wife and partner in life. He had just acted.
The words hung in the room, heavy and sharp, slicing through all the fragile daydreams you'd been holding onto. You didn't say anything. You tried to process what he'd just told you, but your mind refused to make sense of it because never, in your life, would you have imagined doing something so life-changing behind his back.
As if he'd felt the shift, Megumi began to cry and on autopilot you stood to take care of him. You barely remembered that day after that, everything felt numb. What you did remember were the tears slipping from your cheeks onto his, yours soaking into his soft skin as you held him close.
You hadn't tried to stop them. Hadn't tried to wipe them away. As you had rocked your son, your thoughts drifted to a lawyer—one a friend had used during her divorce.
That had been the last night you spent in that house.
The next day, while Toji was at work, you had packed a few suitcases, took your son, and left. You didn't set foot inside again until a few days ago. The lack of worried calls from Toji told you everything you needed to know. He'd known this was coming, sooner or later.
And that had been the final betrayal. He didn't fight for you. He accepted that you were gone and did nothing to stop it. Didn't try arranging the love you had carried for each other for over a decade.
"Why you crying, Mama?" a small voice asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.
You opened your eyes and met a pair of familiar ones, mirrors of your ex-husband's, staring up at you with quiet concern.
"Leg hurts?" he asked again, stepping closer, careful and slow.
You brushed your tears away and nodded before lifting him into your arms, hugging him tightly. From the living room doorway, your eyes met Toji's. He leaned against the archway, his expression unreadable. It had always been hard to read him, and somewhere along the years you'd spent together, you'd stopped trying.
Because he used to tell you what was wrong. Until he stopped.
You looked away, pressing a kiss to the top of your son's head and holding him closer.
When Megumi began to wiggle free, you let him go but not before kissing his chubby cheek. With a soft smile, you watched him run toward his room, his puppies racing after him, their paws skidding on the floor. His laughter echoed through the house, warming your chest enough to almost make you forget what you'd been thinking about.
Almost.
Toji was still by the doorway, his gaze fixed on your drying tears. If he wanted to say something, he didn't. Instead, he approached, slid a pillow beneath your injured leg, and turned toward the kitchen without a word.
Silent. Like he'd always been.
Down the hall, Megumi's laughter rang out again, and you found you couldn't sit still anymore. Grabbing your crutches, you made your way down the hallway. His room was on the opposite side of your old one, something you'd never liked.
It meant that when nightmares came, he had to cross the dark hallway alone and scared. Just the thought of it made your chest ache.
At his doorway, you paused.
Megumi was on the floor, playing with a handful of animal plushies while his puppies lounged nearby. Shiro rested his small white head on Megumi's lap, sniffing eagerly every time a toy was offered. Kuro was curled behind him, black fur pressed against his back, eyes closed as he dozed.
When Megumi noticed you, his face lit up with pure, innocent joy—brighter still when he realized you were there to play. You smiled back, settling onto his small desk chair and leaning your crutches behind it before carefully lowering yourself to the floor.
Your casted leg stretched out in front of you, toes brushing against Shiro's soft fur, while you tucked your other leg in close.
For the next twenty minutes, you were introduced to all his plushies—all of them you were already familiar with. Mr. Froggie. Bunny Bun. Bird Flyer. Grumpy Wolfy. Very creative names, the lot of them. He explained who they were to each other: neighbours, best friends, cousins, and everything his little mind could come up with.
Husbands and wives, too. Grumpy Wolfy and Bunny Bun were apparently married.
Megumi also explained that Grumpy Wolfy was Toji, because his dad had a tendency to be an old grump, which made you laugh when he explained it. And the bunny? His wife. Of course, it was you.
"Because you're soft like a bunny, Mama!" he said, like it was the most logical thing in the world.
His little voice and his small smile brought tears to your eyes, but you quickly looked back at his toys, asking questions so he wouldn't notice them. Eventually, you noticed he was getting bored, his gaze drifting again and again to your cast.
"What is it, baby?" you asked gently.
With a mischievous little smile, he looked up at you. The look in his eyes reminded you of Toji so much it almost hurt and it was wildly unfair. You were the one who'd carried him for nine exhausting months and gone through forty-three hours of labour, and yet he'd come out a perfect copy of his father.
It was unfair.
But you wouldn't have had it any other way.
"Can I draw on it?" Gumi asked, his eyes flicking between your face and the cast.
You let out a small chuckle and closed your eyes. There was no real reason to say no. It wasn't like Toji was letting you leave this house anytime soon, and you could let your son have a little fun. Even if you still had the cast on by Christmas, nothing a nice pair of pants couldn't hide.
"Yeah," you said simply, flexing your toes.
With a happy squeal, your son jumped up, accidentally waking one of the sleeping dogs as he ran off to grab his markers. He was a creative little guy, always drawing fantasy creatures—frogs with wings, a big orange bird with thunder powers, two weirdly familiar "shadow" dogs, whatever that meant.
His newest gang member, though, was a terrifying big white monster. Not really an animal—more like a large humanoid figure, all white, with a wheel over its head and something like a skin ponytail trailing behind his head.
Very weird.
It had been brought up during one of his therapy sessions, but his psychiatrist had said it was just his imagination.
Ever since he was little, Megumi had been plagued by nightmares, worrying both you and Toji. The minute he was able to talk about them, you brought him to therapy—just to be sure everything was okay. It turned out everything was fine, he simply had a very big, vivid imagination that sometimes worked against him.
Talking about them helped. What used to be one or two nightmares a week slowly turned into one a month.
They were usually triggered by long periods of stress and when you and Toji separated, the nightmares came back hard. At first, it made you feel like a bad mother—like it was somehow your fault. But as the months passed and the nightmares eased again, you felt lighter. You didn't care if he slept with you every night just to keep the monsters away.
As you watched him try to recreate both Shiro and Kuro on your cast, you smiled, realising it had actually been a long time since he'd had one. You knew about the nightmare he'd had at Toji's, and Toji knew about the one he'd had with you—it was something you shared so the therapist could be kept informed.
Opening your calendar app, you counted. Three weeks and four days since his last nightmare.
It was crazy, especially considering how scared and stressed he'd been the night you broke your leg. Looking back up at him, your smile widened when you saw his little pink tongue sticking out in concentration.
The dogs on the cast were looking rough, to say the least.
"What are you doing on the floor?" a deep voice asked from the doorway, sounding scolding.
"Drawing," Megumi answered immediately, his soft voice steady, not even looking up at his father.
A chuckle slipped past your lips, he was completely oblivious to the fact that the scolding tone hadn't been meant for him. Toji wasn't a harsh father at all, but he had a habit of sounding stern even when he was teasing. Megumi was long used to it.
"Not you," Toji scoffed, one brow lifting as he looked at you.
"Letting him draw," you replied, forcing a smile his way.
With a heavy sigh, Toji entered the room and sat down on the small bed. It wasn't actually that small, but his sheer size made it look like something meant for dolls. He was broad without even trying, unfairly so.
"And how do you plan on getting up, genius?" he asked, mirroring your forced, irritated smile.
You glanced around the room, hating how right he was. It wouldn't be impossible to get up but it would definitely be humiliating, involving some awkward crawling and a lot of careful movements to avoid your injured leg. Still, there was no one here to be embarrassed in front of.
Megumi wouldn't laugh. And Toji… well, Toji was Toji. He'd probably comment but you wouldn't really care. It wasn't like he had friends to laugh about you with.
"I'll manage," you concluded, rolling your eyes when he nodded mockingly.
"Don't fight," a small voice interrupted, breaking your eye contact as both of you looked down at the same time.
Megumi still wasn't looking up from your cast, but you noticed his drawing had slowed. That made your chest ache. The only memories he really had of his parents together were long silences or arguments.
"We're not fighting, baby," Toji said immediately, his voice softening. "We're just talking."
"Don't talk then," Megumi replied, going right back to his drawing.
You let out a laugh, then felt his small hands steady your moving leg before he sent you a little glare. The message was clear: don't move. You raised your hands in surrender and stopped your leg from shaking.
Toji, however, petty as ever especially after his son had just told him to shut up, leaned down to inspect the drawings on your cast.
"That's two very ugly dogs," he commented before straightening up.
"Toji," you said, without any real bite, rolling your eyes at their antics.
"You're an ugly dog," Megumi mumbled back, completely focused on his work. Your laugh slipped out again, and instantly his sharp little glare turned on you. "Mama!" he scolded, indignant, before returning to his dogs with renewed concentration.
"Sorry," you muttered to him.
However, your son didn't have much time to finish his drawing before his father scooped him up from the floor. The puppies startled at the sudden movement, barking playfully as they jumped up, trying to nip at Megumi's socked feet.
"Daddy!" he whined as he was lifted.
"Dinner time, munchkin," Toji said, his expression still twisted with soft pettiness. Before disappearing, he looked you straight in the eyes. "I'll come back for you. Don't move."
Even though you didn't want his help, the tone of his voice made you stay put. It was the same one he used when he really wanted you to stop overworking yourself and it had always worked. A year and a half apart didn't undo over a decade of conditioning.
Left alone in the room, you looked down and cringed at the sight before you. The two dogs on your cast looked more like oddly shaped horses than anything else. Smiling softly, you snapped a picture and sent it to your mother so she could admire Megumi's artwork.
They were coming back from their trip tomorrow to get ready for Christmas, and they'd offered to take care of you and Megumi but you'd refused. Megumi adored his grandparents, and they adored him just as much, but they were getting older. They were past the age of taking care of their daughter and her child.
It didn't take long for Toji to return, but he didn't help you up yet. He just stood in front of you, arms crossed, wearing a mocking glare. His mouth curled into a smirk, tugging slightly at the scar on his lip. And for a brief, unwelcome moment, you felt a pulse between your legs.
Something you hadn't felt in a long time.
"Say it was dumb," he said, crossing his arms tighter—his biceps bulging deliberately. He knew what he was doing. And you knew it too. However, you knew he was so used to doing that, it might have been unintentional still.
"Oh, fuck off," you snapped, dropping onto your hands and knees.
You weren't about to give him the satisfaction. You could get up on your own—it might take longer and look ridiculous, but at least it would be on your own. Turning toward Megumi's bed, you began crawling, carefully avoiding your injured leg, putting all the pressure on your knees. Since the floor wasn't carpet, it hurt—that white pain straight on the bone.
You almost reached it when you were suddenly lifted from the floor.
Strong arms wrapped around your waist, hoisting you up like you weighed nothing. It felt like being picked up like a misbehaving cat, so you kicked your feet, trying to get down, not even caring if you put pressure on your leg.
Your hands landed on his forearms as he pulled you closer, turning and heading the same way he'd gone with your son minutes earlier. That same son now watched with amused, hopeful eyes as his father carried his mother toward the dining table—all forgetting about how his father had cut short his drawing time.
You squirmed the entire way, but when he finally set you down on a chair, you felt something hard brush against your ass.
You felt it. Toji felt it.
Neither of you said a word. You didn't even look at each other.
Dinner passed with Megumi happily narrating yet another of his imaginary stories, punctuated by small yawns and quiet comments from you and Toji.
Bath time came and went. You did the dishes seated on a chair in the kitchen—after Toji had plopped you there and threatened you if you moved. The threat meant nothing until he mentioned taking away your favourite snack. That did it. Your ass stayed firmly planted.
Before putting Megumi to bed, Toji brought him into the kitchen so he could get his goodnight kiss from his mother. Parting with a big loud smooch, Megumi closed his eyes hugging his father close as he let himself be carried toward his bed.
Just as he passed the door, you saw Toji kissing Megumi's cheek right where you had kissed the little boy. Just like he used to do when you were still married. Kissing by WiFi, he called it. You had always thought it had been cute, and seeing it after so long apart, it warmed your heart.
Shaking your head, you forced your mind away from the though and got back to your dishes. It didn't take long for you to finish it and you were ready to get into bed already. You weren't tired, but you just wanted to lie down and watch a movie or show.
Getting up, taking your crutches, you didn't even bother putting the chair back where it belonged knowing it would be hard with no hands available.
Simply, you walked toward the bathroom closing the toilets lid down so you could sit down on it. On the other side of the wall, you heard the little noise from the animated book and Toji's voice telling the story.
Even with the door open and Toji finished bedtime, he didn't come to bother you. He didn't come to scold you for walking—he had probably heard the crutches anyways. You saw him briefly in the mirror as he crossed the hallway and then heard him moving around in the living room and kitchen.
It was so weird living back in this house, with Toji and Megumi. It was playing tricks on your mind every time you woke up to his warmth next to you, your brain needing a minute to remember you were not a couple anymore. That you couldn't really cuddle into his arms and chest in order to fell back asleep again.
It was just so easy to fall back into a routine, it scared you.
Quickly finishing in the bathroom, you turned to lights off before making your way toward the bedroom. Comfortable in bed, you turned the TV on ready to fully relax. Toji was probably watching some sports in the living room, and you knew it wouldn't be long before he came to bed.
He was working a morning shift, and had to get up quite early. And take Megumi to kindergarten. All while you slept away because he made sure not to wake you. You felt so useless—and also like a bad mother—but even with you telling him you could help, he never woke you.
Choosing a short movie, you underestimated how tired you were. One moment you were watching the movie and the next, you felt the remote being gently taken from your hand before the room turned silent. It was impossible for you to open your eyes even when you felt hands tucking the covers higher and the feeling of soft warm lips on your temple. With this familiar comfort, you let yourself fell back to sleep.
This housing arrangement was dangerous and you knew it would break your heart all over again.
It had been almost three weeks since you'd been staying with your ex-husband, and Megumi's birthday was approaching fast.
After that sweet gingerbread activity afternoon, you'd found yourself cuddling with Toji every single night since, when he was present. His body would mould right behind yours, being always careful with your injured leg. Like before, when you were still married, he also did his best not to wake you up.
Comfort wasn't a good thing, at least not in your mind. You were divorced, you didn't want to get used to his warmth again. And soon you'd be going back home, where the warmth and presence would be a missed comfort.
Well. Not as soon as you would've liked.
Right now, you were sitting in the car on the way to pick Megumi up from kindergarten after a doctor's appointment. It was supposed to be the day they removed your cast, but the X-ray hadn't shown the progress the doctors were hoping for. When they started asking questions about whether you'd been walking on your foot instead of resting it, Toji had cut you off immediately—snitching on you without hesitation.
He'd told them he had to force you to use the crutches, otherwise you'd just limp around on cast, now that the pain was gone. He'd also explained that you were spending far too much time on your feet instead of sitting down.
He had ratted you out, even though you hadn't wanted him in the room at all. He'd insisted.
So here you were, pouting in the passenger seat as he drove toward Megumi's school. You were stuck with the cast for at least another three weeks—meaning Megumi's birthday, Christmas and New Year's. It wasn't like you'd had anything big planned, not with a four-year-old anyway, but it still felt like your independence was being stripped away, and you hated it.
"Stop pouting," Toji said beside you.
"You snitched on me," you shot back.
That only earned you a mocking scoff. In his mind, he'd been completely in the right. For proper recovery, doctors needed to know when patients weren't following orders. He was a EMT, he knew exactly what lying patients could cause to themselves.
"You're a child," he replied, not apologizing as he parked in the short-term drop-off area in front of the school.
You didn't answer. Instead, you opened the car door and turned so your legs hung outside, eyes fixed on the school entrance. It was the last week before winter break, and the kids were buzzing with excitement.
After about five minutes of silence, you finally spotted your little boy running toward the car, his hands clasped tightly in those of his two best friends—Yuji and Nobara. Even though they'd met only about three months ago, after both kids transferred, it felt like they'd known each other forever.
During his first years of school, Megumi had been lonely. No friends at all, something that had worried you deeply, especially since it happened right after the divorce. Somehow, you'd convinced yourself it was your fault. Therapist had said it was normal, that he was just a shy little boy but that you should try going to playgrounds to help. It didn't.
Turned out he'd just been waiting for the right people.
The three of them ran straight toward your car, not even bothering to look for Yuji's uncle or Nobara's mom. And with the mischievous glint in their eyes, you already knew they were about to ask for something.
"Mama!" Megumi shouted, running as fast as his little legs would carry him.
You looked at him softly, biting your lip to keep your smile from spreading too wide. Seeing him this happy warmed your chest—he'd been such a shy, lonely baby.
"Gumi, you can't run here with your friends before they go see their parents," you explained gently.
You pushed yourself up so you'd be standing, just so you could kneel in front of the three kids but you barely got halfway there before a strong hand pressed on your shoulder, forcing you back into your seat. A bit too harshly. You hadn't heard him approach, hadn't even seen him.
"But Mama, we want to ask you something," your son said softly, not even acknowledging his father at all, which made you laugh.
If he was ignoring Toji, you knew the answer was probably no—but he thought he had more luck with you.
You nodded, letting him know you were listening. Beside you, near the back of the car, you heard the flick of a lighter. Turning your head quickly, you saw your ex with a cigarette between his lips.
Since when had he started again? He'd quit when you were pregnant. You didn't have time to ask before Megumi spoke again.
"Can Nobara and Yuji sleep over for my birthday?" he asked, his voice so gentle it almost hurt and a big smile stretched on his lips.
The two others kids were looking at you with the same begging eyes and smile. Good lord. Handling three five year old—especially for what would likely be their first night away from home—was a recipe for disaster. But Megumi was a smart kid. If you explained it properly, he'd understand that you just couldn't handle that.
Apparently, Toji had other plans.
"Fuck no," he said flatly through the smoke. "I'm working that night, and your mother's not taking care of three little munchkins like you."
Even if he wasn't wrong, the way he said it was, by a lot.
All three children looked up at him like he was the devil himself as he leaned carelessly against the car, eyes fixed on the school building. He didn't even bother looking at them—it would've been useless anyway. Toji wasn't a man easily manipulated, not even by three pairs of puppy eyes.
"Toji," you sighed, mostly at the language because deep down, you agreed with him.
He'd told you he was working that night, but his shift didn't start until 9 p.m. That still left plenty of time for Megumi to enjoy his little party and have a proper bedtime with both his parents. And while you could handle three toddlers for an afternoon, you weren't okay doing it at night and alone.
Toji glanced at you with a knowing smirk, then shrugged.
While the two friends continued staring at him with a mix of awe and fear, Megumi turned to look at you instead. He already knew it was futile, you'd always made it a rule never to contradict each other in front of him. Whatever one of you said, went.
"Oi, brat!" A deep, irritated voice cut through the moment, making Yuji turn immediately.
Striding toward the car with daggers in his eyes was Ryomen—Yuji's uncle and caretaker. It was a bit hard to piece together the boy's family situation, especially when it came filtered through Megumi, but you understood that Ryomen was raising both Yuji and his older brother, Choso.
According to Megumi, Choso was in "the big boys' school." You still hadn't figured out whether that meant middle or high school.
You had met Ryomen a handful of times since September when picking up the kids. He was polite enough, but you'd quickly understood he had a temper of his own and also liked to keep to himself.
"The fuck are you doing all the way over here?" he spat again, getting closer.
His choice of vocabulary was just as charming as Toji's, which made it easier to understand why little Yuji looked more shocked by the size of your ex rather than by his words.
"I'm with my friends," Yuji shot back, completely unfazed by the anger.
Rolling his eyes, his uncle approached and instead of grabbing Yuji and leaving immediately, he went straight for Toji. Frowning, you watched as the two men shook hands before Toji offered him a cigarette. Moments later, they were already talking about sports and horses. Of course they got along.
Well, apparently he liked to keep to himself when it came to you.
A few seconds later, Nobara's mom joined the little group that had formed around the car, while the kids started chatting among themselves about what they were going to do at Megumi's party. It was the 16th and he had handed out his homemade invitations today—only to the three of them, which made it easier to organize.
Toji and you had a week to organise little activities to entertained three children during hours. Knowing you couldn't go outside because they were announcing snow and well, you were still walking with crutches.
After exchanging a few words and confirming she'd be there, Nobara's mom left with her daughter just as Ryomen finished his cigarette and whistled for Yuji to follow. The boy obeyed immediately, laughing loudly as he ran toward his uncle, like a real little puppy.
It was an amusing sight, and you could tell the chubby toddler, legs pumping as fast as they could carry him, was used to it. Even more so when his uncle reached a hand back without looking, and Yuji caught it instantly, like it was second nature.
With a small pout on his lips, Megumi said nothing when his father picked him and his bag up. Once he was settled and buckled into his car seat, the pout didn't disappear—if anything, it deepened as he crossed his arms and frowned.
That only made Toji mock him slightly before shaking his head.
"One day, you're gonna have kids," Toji said, eyes flicking from the road to the rearview mirror. "And then you'll understand why I said no."
"I don't like you right now," Megumi's voice echoed from the back seat, making you snicker.
"That makes two of us," you muttered, low enough that your son wouldn't hear but you knew Toji would.
And he did. He shot you a glare before rolling his eyes. He was so annoyingly beautiful, and it really wasn't helping your case.
From your seat, you glanced at his arms, constrained in a tight black long-sleeved shirt. He had claimed he was running hot when you'd asked why he wasn't wearing a sweater or a coat now that winter was settling in. His arms flexed every time he turned the wheel, making you look away from the muscles.
He drove so effortlessly, every movement fluid and unfairly attractive.
It didn't help that he knew you were still watching here and there. The smirk on his lips only grew wider, unapologetic. Why would he hide it? He had no shame about the fact that he was still eyeing you every chance he got, and he liked that you were doing the exact same thing.
The rest of the drive was quiet as soft music played while Toji drove through town toward the house. It was a short ride, which meant Megumi was still pouting when you arrived. Between his sulking, he sneezed several times and coughed in a way that made you a little worried.
Forcing yourself to believe it was nothing, you watched with a very motherly frown as Megumi—still pouting—ran toward the house, eager to be reunited with his puppies. It was also time for their long walk of the day.
Before father and son could leave, you forced a beanie, a scarf, and mittens onto Megumi. He didn't protest, letting you fuss over him with a satisfied smile on his lips. He had always loved being pampered. His nose was running, and he sniffed every few seconds.
As he waited for his father on the front porch, playing with the puppies while you kept your eyes on him while Toji put on his shoes.
"Not gonna pester all over me, Mama?" Toji teased, glancing at you as he tied his laces.
"He's gonna get sick," you said, still watching your son.
"Trust his immune system a little," your ex replied, shaking his head with a small laugh.
"We'll see if you're still laughing when you have to take him to the doctor's office," you shot back, rolling your eyes as you headed to the kitchen to start cooking.
And let's just say Toji wasn't nearly as amused when he came back from work the next morning to find you waiting by the front door with a teary, shivering Megumi in your lap, the doctor's office already on the line asking when Toji would be bringing him in.
Who was laughing now?
It was just the flu. It had been going around the school, and little Megumi had caught it. Of course, you called to let them know he wouldn't be coming in for the rest of the week. They had the audacity to suggest that school time wasn't meant to be used for starting vacations early.
That made you see red.
You spent a solid ten minutes scolding them, telling the school it was their fault for keeping little kids outside in nearly freezing weather because they needed fresh air.
All the while, Toji lay stretched out on the couch beside you, Megumi resting in his lap, thumb tucked in his mouth. He didn't do that often—only when he felt really bad and needed comfort. Shiro and Kuro were curled at the foot of the couch, their snouts pressed against Toji's legs. Megumi drifted in and out of sleep, stubbornly fighting it for reasons only he understood.
Toji, however, was wide awake, even after the brutal shift he had. He watched you as you snapped into the phone, an unreadable look in his eyes. The same look that had once led to Megumi being conceived.
It wasn't a look that should've still been there. Not after the divorce.
When you finally hung up, you moved to take Megumi from him so he could go get some proper rest. Toji clicked his tongue.
"Stop," he muttered when you tried again, lightly slapping your hand away. "You're already injured. Don't need the flu too."
"Trust my immune system," you shot back, twisting his own words against him.
When you reached for your son again and he gently pushed your hands away, you slapped his hand in return. Megumi, somehow, was finally asleep though his little brows were furrowed, like he was fighting things you couldn't see. Fever and nightmares together would be too much. You just hoped he'd have a peaceful night.
"You need to sleep. Give him," you hissed softly, careful not to wake the boy.
"Nuh uh," Toji replied, sinking deeper into the cushions and keeping Megumi snug against his chest. "Think I'll nap right here, Mama."
Your eyes narrowed at his stubbornness. You sincerely hoped Megumi wouldn't inherit that trait—it had caused a lot of arguments over the years. And, admittedly, a lot of sex. But that was irrelevant.
Speaking of sex… the way Toji was looking at you hadn't changed. His eyes were slightly hooded, that lazy, familiar lust simmering in them as they dragged slowly over you. From your face, down to the way your chest filled your pyjamas, to the soft roll of your stomach pressing against the fabric.
You didn't know if the look at been there the all time, or if you were finally allowing yourself to notice it, he had never been shy about his attraction to you after all. From the moment you met, he'd made it abundantly clear he thought you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.
Even when your own mind couldn't understand how a man like him could want a woman like you.
And the best part? He'd proven you wrong every single time. You'd been certain he'd be disgusted by the pregnancy weight layered over the fat you already carried. Instead, he'd only wanted you more. He'd told you that body had given both of you the little boy you both loved so dearly.
And he'd never once looked at you like anything less than something precious. But then you remembered his condescension about that same body.
Not physically, he had never and you were sure he would never, belittle you or mock the way you looked. That wasn't the problem. The problem was how he had acted like he understood what was happening to you better than you did.
The return of your period during postpartum had been complicated, extremely so—in a already really hard postpartum. Both physically and mentally. All you had needed was comfort. Kindness. A little reassurance. Not the way he had handled your hormones being all over the place.
It had already been hard enough taking care of a newborn while feeling like you were somehow pregnant all over again, the symptoms being way too powerful for you to think rationally. Even more when you were so tired all the time.
The symptoms had felt so similar, and it had triggered something strange inside you. A longing. A confusing, aching desire for another baby before your body had even finished healing from the first.
Instead of navigating it like a gentle, loving husband, he had brushed you away with harsh words and mocking tones. Then betrayed you.
All you had asked was for him to sit you down and explain softly that you didn't actually want a second child like you had said for years, that your body was regulating itself, that hormones were confusing your brain. And yes, maybe you would have taken it badly at first. Maybe it would have felt like he was treating you like a child, mansplaining things.
But it would have been better than shutting down for months. Better than not trying. Better than spying on you. Better than getting a vasectomy behind your back.
It had been both your faults, you could admit that. But even if you were partially to blame, you hadn't broken his trust. You hadn't gone behind his back. For one simple reason: you loved him. And when you love someone, you trust them.
Apparently, he hadn't trusted you.
So what was the point of staying with someone who didn't? You had taken the choice away from him. Made the decision for both of you. You left. It had been for the best. At least, that's what you had told yourself.
But now, after almost three weeks of living back in this house, playing the perfect little family, it forced you to confront what you had truly missed for a year and a half.
Being around him reminded you that he was a good father. You had always known that. But he had also been a good partner.
Aside from the lack of trust he had showed you. If he had just communicated, maybe you would have worked through it. Maybe it would have been an ugly phase in the marriage. A scar. Not the end of everything.
Looking into his eyes now, you sighed. You couldn't stay in the room any longer. You could already feel the tears building again, and you were tired of crying. You had cried enough over this marriage.
So you stood and quietly made your way to Megumi's room instead, tidying it absentmindedly. You opened his window for a few minutes to let in fresh air, remade his bed as best you could with the crutches, and straightened his desk.
Under a pile of drawings, animals both real and imaginary, you found one that made you pause. In childish, uneven lines, there was a house. A tree. Grass. A bright sun.
And in the centre of it all: three stick figures. A woman. A man. A child. All smiling. All holding hands. Above them floated a small heart.
You slowly lowered yourself into his chair, letting your crutches fall to the ground, eyes fixed on the drawing as the tears you had tried so hard to hold back finally slipped down your cheeks.
It was the first time he had drawn something like this.
Every other time, he had drawn himself with either a woman or a man but never both at the same time. He didn't remember what it felt like to live with both his parents under the same roof.
But here, in uneven crayon lines, he had imagined it.
And the little boy in the picture, even in its simple and clumsy style, looked so happy.
Hours later, you were alone again, in bed.It was nearing midnight, and sleep refused to come.
All afternoon, you hadn't spoken to Toji. He had slept on the couch for nearly four hours with Megumi in his lap, not moving once. And even after that nap, he hadn't let you take care of your own son.
It pissed you off.
You weren't working right now. It wouldn't have mattered if you got sick. But he hadn't relented. He fed him, napped with him again, fed him once more, bathed him, and put him to bed.
During bedtime, you had been in the bathroom but you heard everything. Megumi asking if he would be okay for his birthday while Toji reassured him that he would, as long as he listened. And then the part that made your jaw tighten.
"Don't go to your mother, okay? You can't get her sick. You sleep in your bed like a big boy, yeah?" Toji had said, his tone serious enough to make it clear he wasn't joking.
So now you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if your son was sleeping well. The fact his father was taken away his comfort was breaking your heart—even more when you knew Megumi almost always listened to the rules.
But almost as if he had a sixth sense, you heard small footsteps padding down the hallway. You sat up before the door even creaked open, turning on the bedside lamp just in time to see him standing there.
Grumpy Wolf dangled loosely from one hand while Bunny Bun was hugged tightly to his chest. His eyes were glossy. His little body trembled.
"Mama," he called softly from the doorway.
One look at him and you knew, he had tried to stay in his room. Tried to listen. Tried to be strong. But it had been too much.
"Come here, baby," you cooed, your own vision blurring.
Exhaustion, this house, being around Toji, it was making you more emotional than usual.
Megumi didn't wait for another invitation. He climbed onto the bed and immediately settled between your pillows, right against your chest as if he was trying to mould against you. Moments later, Shiro and Kuro jumped up as well, curling at the foot of the bed like it was routine.
"Cold, Mama," he whispered, inching closer.
"Oh, I know, my love," you murmured, pulling the covers higher around him.
His skin was burning under your touch, the fever still stubborn. His body was damp with sweat from fighting the infection, yet he shivered like he was freezing. It broke your heart. He was so small. So fragile.
You forced yourself to remember that the flu was common, that it passed. That in a few days, he would be running around again like nothing had happened.
Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, you pulled him closer and reached behind you to switch off the light. To hell with Toji's orders, your son needed comfort, warmth and love.
If Toji didn't like it, he could sleep on the couch again.
With Megumi tucked against your chest, your body finally began to relax—not the fake stillness of staring at the ceiling, but the heavy, real kind, the kind that pulls you under.
Against you, Megumi softened too. His breathing evened out as he clutched his plushies tightly, one small hand clenching into your pyjama top like he was anchoring himself and this time, you let sleep take you both.
You woke up disoriented, your heart thumping fast and hard against your chest. The sensation of your son being lifted from your arms had jolted you awake, fear rushing through you before you could think.
Logically, you knew it had to be Toji coming back home. But your brain hadn't caught up yet.
"It's just me, baby," you heard the familiar voice say as you clung tighter to your son's body. The term of endearment slipping out brought some sort of comfort.
"No," you mumbled, pulling him closer against your chest. "Leave him."
"He's sick," Toji sighed softly, carefully lowering Megumi back onto the mattress when he felt how tightly you were holding him.
Your breathing was still uneven, adrenaline slow to fade. In the dim light spilling in from the hallway, you could make out Toji's silhouette at the edge of the bed. Megumi stirred faintly between you, a weak whimper leaving his lips as he burrowed closer into your warmth.
"No," you whispered, forcing your eyes to stay open.
Even after the stress of being jolted awake like that, exhaustion weighed heavily on you. You weren't going to change your mind, and judging by the deep sigh that left Toji's lips, he understood.
When you opened your eyes again, you saw him turn toward the door.
"Toji?" you called softly, before you could stop yourself.
"Just going to shower. Go back to sleep," he replied, before leaving the room.
Knowing he wasn't mad comforted you more than it probably should have, though you couldn't explain why.
A small whine sounded against your chest. You looked down. Megumi's eyes were still shut, but his brows were furrowed, and his thumb had slipped back into his mouth.
You adjusted yourself carefully and pulled him closer, letting your body relax now that you knew no one was trying to take him away. The distant sound of running water was strangely soothing, dragging you back to a time when you had been the happiest you'd ever been.
Minutes later, you felt the mattress dip on the other side of your son. A hand slipped gently between the two of you, reaching over until it rested against Megumi's forehead. Toji's arm brushed against your chest as he leaned in.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath before pulling his hand back.
"Burning up?" you asked quietly, too tired to check yourself.
Your voice must have startled him, you felt him tense slightly before settling into the mattress.
"Yeah," he sighed. "Need to call the doctor back in the morning."
Scoffing faintly, you opened your eyes and looked at him. "It is morning."
That earned you an eye roll.
You didn't know the exact time, but old habits told you it had to be close to six a.m. Too early to be awake, but undeniably morning.
At the foot of the bed, you heard soft whines and heavy sighs as Toji shifted, trying to find space. The dogs had claimed most of it. They avoided your feet to escape accidental kicks, but now they were crowding him instead. The mattress wasn't big, something Toji used to complain about before he figured out how to take advantage of that fact.
"Fucking mutts," he muttered, clicking his tongue when they started rustling. "Stop."
His voice dropped, firm and deep. Instantly, the puppies settled.
"Be glad they're not on your pillow trying to get closer to your son," you mumbled into Megumi's hair, pressing a soft kiss to his head.
He didn't answer right away, but you could still hear him shifting his feet probably playing with them for a bit. For someone who claimed he wasn't much of a pet person, he seemed to interact with them an awful lot.
"Back to talking to me, Mama?" Toji asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
Your eyes opened again. He wasn't about to start something right now, was he? You'd like to think having a child had made both of you more mature. But your ex-husband could still be incredibly petty.
"Don't start now," you spat back, rolling your eyes.
"I ain't starting anything," he scoffed, his eyes never leaving yours. "Just continuing what you started."
Here you go again. He always used to do this, that condescending, fake-calm demeanour whenever he didn't like something you did. But if you mirrored it? He'd lose his temper. It was exhausting. You had hoped he'd changed or that you'd never have to live through it again.
"And then you still wonder why I left," you whispered, not even meaning for him to hear.
In any other situation, at an hour when the world was this quiet, he wouldn't have. But he did. And Megumi lying between you—sick, feverish, fragile—wasn't going to stop him from pushing it.
"Oh yeah?" he shot back. "You gonna tell me all about how I'm a bad father and a bad husband?"
The pettiness in his voice almost made you laugh.
"I'm not doing that right now," you bit back carefully, holding your words so they wouldn't turn cruel and insulting.
It was insane how something soft and almost peaceful could crumble over silence—a silence treatment Toji had never been able to tolerate. He always ask communication, words to understand what was going in. Praised it, even. How ironic.
As gently as possible, you sat up and lifted your son into your arms before turning onto your other side—your back to Toji, Megumi warm against your chest. You were ready to sleep. Or at least pretend to, until a reasonable hour.
Then he chuckled. That humourless, sharp exhale he always gave when you said something he didn't like. It snapped something in you.
"You were a bad husband," you whispered, though the edge in your voice betrayed you. "Is that what you want to hear? You were a fucking bad husband at the end, Toji. Spying on my pills. Belittling my emotions. Getting a vasectomy behind my back? If that sounds like being a good husband to you, then maybe I should've left way sooner."
The silence that followed was cutting.
You knew your words were harsh. You didn't regret them. You wouldn't apologize for them either, because they were true. The whole point of sharing a life with someone you love is trust, cherish and love them.
At the end of your marriage, he did none of that.
"You made me feel like I was the one betraying you. Like I was going to baby-trap you. Instead of talking to me, using that communication you love to preach about, you fucked up. At least have the decency to stand by your actions before you put words in my mouth."
There was more you wanted to say. So much more. But Megumi whimpered softly in pain against your chest, and your rising voice dropped instantly.
"You are a good father," you finished quietly. "But you were not a good husband."
You forced your eyes closed. If he wanted to fire back, he didn't. He didn't even move. For a second, you weren't sure he was breathing. But you should have known it wouldn't end there.
"You weren't the perfect wife you like to think you were either," he said at last, his voice low tight with something darker than pettiness.
You let out a short, almost unhinged laugh, shaking your head at the audacity.
"Never said I was," you replied. "Sorry if all I asked for was my husband's love and time. Oh, dear Lord, forgive me for needing more attention when my hormones were fucking me up. But I guess they weren't messing me up that badly if they made me leave you. Right?"
That did it, he didn't say anything else.
Behind you, though, you could hear him settling into sleep. Every now and then, a quiet scoff slipped out, or the faint click of his tongue, like he couldn't fully rest even in silence. You didn't know whether he was angry at you or replaying his own actions and turning that frustration inward. It was something he used to do, sometimes.
Either way, you truly didn't care. This cohabitation could have been smooth, almost effortless. But of course, old habits died hard.
As you let yourself drift off again, the only thing you longed for was the comfort of your own home, somewhere far from Toji, who was breaking your heart all over again.
The week that followed that fight was tense, to say the least. You were both adults, yet both stubborn and full of unsaid words. The divorce had been relatively quick and yet not that easy—as you had refused to see him and would only communicate through lawyers. So many things had been left unsaid back then, and you were not exactly eager to dig them up now. Especially during the holiday season.
What was supposed to be a cute and meaningful birthday for your son turned into fake smiles and overly nice words so he wouldn't feel bad. But your little boy wasn't dumb, he could feel something was wrong between his parents. He would ask in a quiet voice during bedtime, only to receive the same answer from both his mother and father.
It's nothing, grown-up stuff.
Christmas hadn't been any better. Going to your parents' house with Megumi made you feel almost guilty for leaving Toji behind. It had been the same last year as well, but you hadn't been sharing a house then. Of course, like last year, your parents had invited him so Megumi could have both his parents with him, but his ego didn't let him accept. It was the same story this year, even after Megumi asked every day for about five days.
Toji's family was complicated: a bunch of very traditional, racist, and misogynistic pricks he never wanted to be associated with. In eleven years together, you had never met them. Not even his parents. To be completely honest, you didn't even know if they were alive. He never spoke about them, and with time, you learned not to ask.
And so had Megumi.
He understood it made his father upset, and he had never asked again after that realization.
For New Year's, you told your parents you would stay at their place. You let Megumi spend it with his dad and his puppies. He had told you all about it on the phone when he called the next morning. They had played games, played with the dogs, eaten a lot of candy, watched Zootopia twice, and he had even slept with his dad. He had been so excited about his day that it made you feel a little better about leaving them alone.
However, he did say he wished you had been there and asked when you were coming home. That had been his exact word. Home.
As if you were still living in that house with them and were just away for some unknown reason. Even if he was a bit more bright than most kids his age, you understood how confusing it must have been for him to get used to his parents living in different places, only for them to suddenly live together again while his father took care of his mother.
He was only five years old.
The next time you saw Toji, it was back at the hospital. Some time away had done you good, and you decided it was better to stay with your parents for the rest of the time you had the cast on. It was better for everyone. Except your son, who had the saddest voice every evening when he called you.
He would understand when he was older. You knew he would.
It wasn't better for him to live in that house while you barely spoke to Toji. The atmosphere would only be tense for everyone, and it wasn't something you wanted to put your son through.
However, your parents couldn't take you to your check-up appointment, so Toji volunteered—helped greatly by little Megumi begging. It was on a Saturday, which meant Megumi was coming with you. He hadn't really seen you outside of facetime for about a week and a half, and he was clearly missing his mother. You understood that the moment he ran your way when he opened the car door, getting out without even waiting for approval.
Now, sitting in the doctor's office, you were biting your lip as the doctor closely examined the X-ray. It had been more than a month in the cast, and you were more than ready to have it taken off. It itched underneath, and you just wanted to be able to walk, drive, and live normally again.
"All good now!" the doctor concluded, making you let out a small laugh of relief.
Right next to you, on Toji's lap, Megumi laughed along with you and clapped a few times, his enthusiasm making all three adults laugh at his gesture. He was such a sweet kid, it was truly heartwarming to see, as well as a little scary. You never wanted anything to change that.
An hour later, you were walking on your own two feet as you exited the hospital, your son's hand in yours. He was already rambling about all the things you could do with him now, how you could help him with the bike he had received for Christmas. He was so excited that he didn't even notice the awkward tension lingering on the way back to the house.
Most of your things were still there, and you were now ready to go back to your own place. To finally be alone when you wanted to be, and not feel the forced loneliness that house constantly reminded you of.
Stepping inside, you told Megumi to get ready to go back home.
Almost immediately, the little smile that had been on his face since the hospital disappeared, replaced by a small pout. Still, he listened and quietly went to his room with his head down.
On the other side, Toji had sat himself at the dining table, his head resting in his hand as he watched you. His eyes looked conflicted, as if he were hesitating between staying quiet and saying something. It wasn't easy to ignore him when his gaze was practically boring into you as you walked around the house, putting your things into bags by the front door.
Once you were done, you waited for Megumi.
Of course, you could have rushed him, but you didn't feel like it. It was hard enough for his mind to understand that the past few weeks spent with both his parents under the same roof weren't permanent. You weren't going to stress him more. If he wanted to take an hour to gather his things, you would let him.
That left you in an awkward silence with Toji, the two of you sitting on opposite sides of the room. He hadn't moved from the dining table, while you sat on the small bench by the front door. Your leg bounced restlessly as you leaned forward, elbows on your thighs.
Even during the divorce, things hadn't been this weird between you and Toji—mostly because you simply hadn't seen him. But right now, you almost wished you could disappear. It made it worse knowing he would be the one driving you back to your place, even after you had insisted you could take an Uber.
"Not with my kid," had been his answer.
Then, you reached for your handbag, looking for something inside. Taking the check book out, you started searching for a pen as well. It was the most logical thing in your mind, as Toji hadn't let you pay for anything while you stayed here.
"I don't need your money," Toji broke the silence, his voice booming in the room.
"I know you don't," you scoffed, you had been the one reorganizing the bills back together. "Doesn't mean you won't take it."
To that, he let out a humourless laugh. "If you give it to me, I'll rip it apart. I don't want your money."
At those words, you sighed heavily. Why did he have to make everything complicated? Looking up, you were met with a hard glare. Hurt and annoyance could be seen in his eyes, but surely you were giving him the same look.
"Why are you making this hard?" You spat.
"I ain't making it hard. I'm making it quite easy, I don't want your money." He forced a smile on his lips.
"Toji," you sighed again, looking back down at the check.
"You paid enough when we got together, Mama." The term of endearment slipped out as he concluded, finally saying the real reason he didn't want your money.
Pinching the bridge of your nose, you couldn't believe he was still stuck on something that had happened over a decade ago.
When you had met, you were both pretty young, and while you already had your life somewhat figured out. Toji didn't, at all.
Back then, he had no job and relied only on gambling to get money, which wasn't really fruitful, and you found yourself paying for his rent or food more often than not. Why you had stayed back then, you still had no idea.
Perhaps it was because he was never cheap once he won—clothes, restaurants, trips. He had no financial education, and it showed. Perhaps it was because the sex had been the best you had ever had in your life, and he was such a generous lover—which was rare these days. Perhaps it was because, after months, he started showing signs of change. Started talking about training programs he had heard about to get a real job.
Perhaps it was simply because you had fallen in love with him.
"Stop calling me that," you shot back, rolling your eyes.
"I ain't the one that wanted that divorce," he repeated, the same line he always used whenever you asked him to stop.
"Well, it sure looked like you did," you replied immediately, the words slipping out before you could think.
It didn't matter anyway. You had already told him everything you thought days ago. Still, it was never pleasant to have your own words thrown back in your face every once in a while. However, right now, you were not looking for another fight but as his eyes darkened at your response, you knew it was coming your way.
"You keep saying that, and yet I wasn't the one that left, right?" he said, his tone laced with accusation.
It was your turn to let out a humourless laugh. The fact that he still didn't understand what you had been trying to say proved how little effort he was actually making.
"Being here physically is very different from being here mentally, Toji." You were tired of explaining that to him.
"We could have worked it out," he sighed, as if you were the one who had never understood his point all along.
"Yes, we could have," you answered quietly, not even raising your voice. What was the point anymore? "But you went and betrayed me. That one's on you."
Something shifted in his gaze, almost as if your words had finally landed. After nearly two years, it was about time. Truthfully, you weren't expecting anything from him anymore. But if he could at least understand what he had done wrong—so he wouldn't unconsciously pass it on to your son—then maybe it would mean something.
"I did what was best for us," he muttered, loud enough for you to hear.
"You did what was best for you, Toji. Don't twist the story," you retorted, glancing down the hallway, half-expecting your son to peek out of his room.
"I did it for us," he insisted, emphasizing the us. "We never wanted another kid, and you were complaining I wasn't touching you anymore. And you didn't want condoms. I wasn't even sure you were taking your pills, so I did what I had to do."
His eyes stayed locked on yours now, no longer looking away.
"What would we have done if you got pregnant? You would've been happy for a while, and we would've raised that kid just like we did with Meg," he continued, one brow lifting. "But what about us? Remember the baby blues you had after Megumi was born? You didn't want to feed him, didn't want to see him at all. And we wanted that kid."
He was dragging you back to a time you had always tried to forget. You had been so happy when you got pregnant, and the pregnancy itself had been manageable. But after the delivery? Everything had fallen apart. You wouldn't leave your bed. You didn't want to see anyone.
Not even baby Megumi.
"What would've happened if we had a baby we didn't even want?" he asked again, waiting for an answer.
"I was taking my pills," you whispered, your gaze fixed anywhere but on him.
"How the fuck was I supposed to know?" he raised his voice, throwing his hands in the air. "You used to take them right next to me in bed, and all of a sudden you started taking them in the bathroom."
For some reason, you couldn't even remember why you had started doing that. That whole period remained blurred in your mind. The postpartum had been brutal, and your brain had done its best to bury it all.
Hormones, you had been told.
The silence in the room grew thick, neither of you ready to admit your own faults. Of course, you knew you had been wrong in some ways, but in your mind, he had been more wrong. At this point, it felt less like a conversation and more like an ego match.
"Mama?" a small voice called from the hallway.
Turning around, you saw your son standing there with his backpack on, his puppies on their leashes, and Mr. Froggy clutched tightly in his hand. He looked so soft and sweet that you instantly hoped he hadn't been listening to the conversation. Not that he would have understood the words, but he surely would have noticed the reproachful tone in both your voices.
"Let's go, baby," you said, your voice calm and gentle again as you motioned him forward so you could put his shoes on.
Behind you, Toji let out a heavy sigh, as if he wanted to say more but was holding himself back. Which he probably was. And, thanks to Megumi, he did. You weren't sure you wanted to hear anything else about this right now anyway.
"Thank you," was the only thing you told him when he dropped you back home, leaving behind a check of a thousand dollars on the passenger seat. He could do whatever he wanted with it, it eased the guilt on your side, at least.
Once you closed the front door, you let out the heaviest, most relieved sigh of the day.
Megumi immediately dropped his bag to go play with Shiro and Kuro. The house smelled stale after weeks of being closed, so you opened all the windows, remade the beds, and started some laundry.
However, when you stepped into the kitchen, you were surprised to see that the fridge and fruit bowl had been emptied, nothing left rotting inside. The floor had been cleaned from the cocoa powder as well.
Of course.
Now, hours later, you were eating junk food with your son while watching The Grinch on TV. He was laughing, rambling about how he and Yuji had tried to scare little Nobara with the Grinch voice, only for it to scare Yuji more instead.
Even the puppies got a few extra treats tonight.
Bedtime was another small joy. It had been a long time since you had tucked him in, and you were savouring every second of it—telling him stories, playing silly games, and cuddling beside him until he finally fell asleep.
However, when it was time for you to go to bed, something felt missing.
A presence. A warmth. And that was exactly what you had been afraid of when you chose to stay with Toji. The after.
Even if the divorce had been necessary, it wasn't any less painful. Toji had once been your endgame, the love of your life, the person you thought you would grow old with. But life rarely went the way you planned.
Turning on the TV in your room, you tried to trick your brain into thinking you weren't alone. It wasn't truly comforting, but it worked enough for your eyelids to grow heavy. It would have been the perfect way to fall asleep—if only your phone hadn't vibrated on the bedside table.
Picking up the screen lightly, you checked the notification, expecting an emergency from your friends or your parents. But it wasn't. And a small part of you almost wished it had been.
On your screen was a single message. Two words.
I'm sorry.
From Toji. And that text kept you up all night.
It was a strange feeling, dressing up to go on a date with someone new after decades with the same person.
It wasn't as if you had been forced into it. Kento was your favourite colleague: always respectful, always helpful, and undeniably good-looking. Since Toji, he had been the only one who made those butterflies in your stomach flutter again.
And still, sitting in his car with a gentle, easy conversation flowing between you, you felt off.
Almost stupid. Like you were overdressed. Like you had put on too much makeup. Even if Kento had complimented you the moment he opened the car door, calling you beautiful, your mind refused to settle.
It made you feel guilty. As if you weren't supposed to be there. As if you were betraying your husband.
Your ex-husband.
Which didn't help, considering he had no issue flirting with Megumi's teacher every time he picked him up. Megumi had snitched without even meaning to.
The restaurant was nice. Kento was even nicer, and he kept complimenting you throughout the evening. The conversation came easily—you laughed, joked, and talked about everything and nothing.
It was always pleasant to talk to him. You rarely worked directly with him since he wasn't in your department, but whenever you did, he was the kindest person to ask for help. His other colleagues were insufferable finance assholes, and you already dreaded the day he might accept a better job offer and leave.
The date was sweet. Sometimes he would take your hand across the table, but the contact never went much further than that. He asked about Megumi—his interests, how he was doing, how he behaved. It was rare for men to stay interested once they learned you were a single mother.
Every time, they asked about the father. And the moment they found out he was still involved in the child's life, they ran. As if they would have preferred you to be a miserable, overwhelmed mother with no support. Easier to play the saviour that way, for you and for the kid.
But as long as the father was present, they wanted none of it. No competition. It had made it almost impossible for you to find anyone after Toji, and you couldn't stand most of them anyway.
Kento Nanami wasn't like that.
He even asked about Toji—what he did for work, what he was like—carefully, respectfully. You liked that about him. He wasn't insecure. His eyes were soft, attentive, he listened, asked thoughtful questions, seemed genuinely interested. You didn't understand how he was still single.
And yet, when he kissed your forehead in front of your building, the butterflies were gone. Just like that.
It was messed up. Pushing your back against the front door, you let your head fall against it with a heavy sigh. For months, you had nursed a quiet crush on Kento from afar. It had taken time after the divorce, but the crush had definitely been there.
So why, after such a sweet, pleasant date, were the feelings suddenly gone?
It was frustrating. One single night back in your ex-husband's arms had been enough to send your butterflies into a frenzy again even after he had hurt you the most. Kento had never been disrespectful, never cruel, never anything but kind, and yet nothing.
Lightly knocking your head against the door, you started to hate yourself a little. The night had been perfect. Your brain had ruined it anyway. And, as usual, your brain, your worst enemy, made the decision for you.
Your apartment felt too quiet. Too dark. Too empty. Megumi was staying at your parents' house for the weekend after begging you to let him, he hadn't really seen them since Christmas, and March was already creeping closer.
Shaking your head, you couldn't bear the silence any longer. You grabbed your keys and rushed back outside. As you made your way down to the parking lot, you tried to talk yourself out of what you were doing, but you already knew it was useless.
The drive was short. And when you parked in front of your old house, you let out a long, tired sigh. What were you even doing? Seeking comfort in the wrong arms. But you were already here now. And it was far too late to turn back.
Knocking on the door felt just as humiliating as it was exciting. The waiting didn't help much either, your brain was working a hundred miles an hour. However, the sight your eyes fell upon when the door opened made you forget it all.
Toji stood there in sport shorts, bed hair all over the place, scratching at his bare stomach with one hand while the other held the door open. His eyes were small, like you had woken him up—you had, but you didn't truly care.
"Where is Meg?" he asked, his brow frowning.
"With my parents," you responded, pushing past him as you dropped your bag by the front door and let your coat fall as well.
"Well, isn't that a nice little dress." Toji whistled, looking you up and down from behind. He wasn't being slick at all, you could feel his eyes on your ass. "All this for me?"
"You ruined my date, actually," you deadpanned, turning back toward him as he closed and locked the door.
At that, he let out a small, unimpressed laugh. "Please do tell how."
"'Cause he wasn't you," you said simply before reaching for him.
Pushing onto your tiptoes, your hands cupped his cheeks as you pulled him closer. Damn his height. When your lips met, it was as if the planet started turning right again. As if all your pain had vanished. The longing, the familiarity of his body, and the pleasure tied to it made every doubt in your mind disappear.
"Are we sure about this?" Toji asked, his lips never quite leaving yours. His hands were already on your hips, kneading the soft flesh there and pulling you closer. It didn't match his words at all. "You're not drunk?"
"No," you said, forcing yourself higher onto your toes.
He must have felt your frustration, because his hands slid from your hips to under your ass, lifting you into him. Oh, how you had missed his strength. Your legs wrapped around his lower back while your arms circled his neck. The kiss turned messy—tongue and teeth, breath and heat. It wasn't a battle for dominance, just familiarity and longing. With the kiss, you could feel how much you had missed him, missed this.
His feet carried you both to the bedroom, where he sat on the bed with you in his lap. Beneath you, you could feel how affected he already was from that little kiss, and you would have been lying if you said it didn't warm your heart to know you still had that effect on him.
"Already?" you couldn't help mocking.
His only response was his hand slipping between your legs and under your dress, feeling how soaked your panties already were. He broke the kiss then, raising an eyebrow at you with a small smirk tugging at his lips. However, he didn't remove his hand, his fingers lazily played with your clit over the cotton before his mouth returned to yours, uninterested in whatever retort you might have had.
He didn't really care. His fingers were slow and teasing while his lips were hard and impatient. It went straight to your head, and you started rocking against his hand. The dress began to feel too constricting, and you wanted to feel his warmth against your skin. Letting go of his shoulders, you reached back for the zipper and pulled it down.
When the dress fell to your waist, Toji pulled his lips away, eyes dropping to the bra you had chosen.
"This motherfucker wasn't getting lucky tonight," he joked, not even letting you answer before pressing his lips back to yours.
"Fucker," you mumbled against them, pulling him closer as you slipped the bra off.
Once you were bare on top, you shifted higher on his hips so your chests touched. The feeling was so familiar, and you had always been a bit clingy, being away hadn't changed that. His free hand pulled the dress up and over your head until you were left in nothing but your panties. His other hand never left between your legs, not relenting for a second. The movements stayed slow and soft, but the rhythm was starting to drive you crazy.
Rocking your hips harder, you tried to send him a message as your lips drifted to his neck and shoulder. Your kisses were rushed, nipping at every bit of skin you could before he inevitably got tired of your teeth. He always did.
Seeing he wasn't going to speed up, your own hand traced down his chest to his shorts. Sliding underneath, you were pleased to find he still slept commando in cold weather. When it was warm, he used to sleep naked—until Megumi started having nightmares, anyway.
"Settle down, Mama," Toji laughed when he felt how hurried you were.
"Want you," you mumbled between kisses.
Seconds later, you were on your back in the middle of the bed. It was unmade and still warm from his sleeping body. It smelled like him, and your body relaxed against the familiar mattress.
"God, I miss this bed," you breathed as his lips moved to your neck, nipping lightly.
"Thought you'd ask for it in the divorce," he chuckled against your skin, biting a little harder on the last word. Divorce.
"Should have," you said, letting out a soft moan. "My bed is shit."
You wanted to say something else, but his mouth closed around your nipple, and every thought slipped away. He was messy about it, drooling over your breast while his other hand kneaded the opposite one.
However, when you thought he was going to move lower, his face instead settled between your breasts, simply staying there without moving. His breathing was slightly ragged against your sweaty skin, sending chills down your spine.
Your own breathing was faster than usual, your chest rising and falling beneath his head with every inhale.
"So soft," he murmured against your skin, his hands sliding up and down your sides, kneading gently like a cat.
"Toji?" you heard yourself whisper.
"Shh, Mama," he replied softly. "Let me have this."
All the tension and lust that had built up slowly softened into something quieter. After a few minutes, both of your breathing began to settle, and Toji seemed to grow even more comfortable. His body relaxed completely, half draped over you and half sunk into the mattress, his knees no longer supporting his weight.
His face remained nestled against your chest, one arm tucked under you while the other lazily traced little shapes along your hip. Every now and then, his lips would press light kisses and small nips against your skin as he gradually drifted lower.
Minutes later, he was lying on your stomach.
Your own hands moved almost automatically, caressing his hair and shoulders. The moment felt peaceful, miles away from the last time you had seen him. There were still so many things left unsaid between the two of you, but you chose, deliberately, to ignore them for now and simply exist in this fragile quiet.
"Was this what you were looking for?" Toji's voice came out muffled against the softness of your stomach.
"Kinda wished for some good sex," you joked lightly.
That earned a low laugh from him and a gentle bite to your stomach.
"If you're still here in the morning, you'll get that," he said simply, feeling the way you trembled beneath him.
A moment later, he pulled the blankets over both of you without moving from his spot. He stayed sprawled across your stomach, completely under the covers. Where you might have felt suffocated, he seemed perfectly used to it. He only ever did this when he was exhausted, and you suspected you had caught him on a particularly bad night.
"Then we can talk," he added, his voice slightly smothered beneath the heavy blankets.
"Yeah," you replied softly, a small smile forming despite yourself. "We can talk."
And you had so much to talk about.
As his body grew heavier with sleep, fully relaxed against the bed yet still anchored to you, sleep refused to come to you. This had been a mistake that hadn't quite turned into one. Or maybe only half of one. But if it allowed the two of you to talk—properly, like adults, without screams or tears—you would take it.
Turning your head in search of a more comfortable position, your gaze landed on something that hadn't used to be there. Something that definitely hadn't been there when you were recovering.
A single photo frame sat on Toji's side of the bed.
The three of you. Megumi perched in your lap while you sat in Toji's, all of you smiling so hard it had made your cheeks ache. A small chocolate cake with a single candle sat on the table in front of you, its light caught mid-flicker in the picture.
That photo used to be in the living room. You had always been a little sad you'd forgotten to take it when you moved out. Seeing it now, placed on his bedside table, made your eyes sting. It meant it was the last thing he saw before falling asleep and the first thing he saw when he woke up.
You looked like a happy family. You had been a happy family.
Lying there, feeling his slow, steady breathing against your stomach, a fragile thought began to take root: maybe it was possible to get back to that time. A long, honest conversation, without reproaches, mockery, or resentment might help. Maybe even counselling.
That date with Kento had made you realize something uncomfortable. No matter how kind, sweet, and gentle another man could be, they would never come close to being Toji. And you weren't even sure you were capable of loving someone who wasn't him.
More than that, you weren't sure you truly wanted to.
That was why you hadn't accepted your parents' offer to house you during your recovery. Why you hadn't protested the first time he had held you again after so long apart.
No one compared to him. And judging by the way he clung to you even in his sleep, no one compared to you either. Maybe this could work. Maybe, one day, you could become that perfect little family people used to envy.
It would take time. It would take compromises. But this time, you would make it work.
©fromsil. a.n.: happy valentine's day, my lovely. last year you got sad ending johnny, this time you get semi-happy ending toji :)
