You were loud sunshine in his quiet, shaded world—smiling too brightly, laughing too easily, always with a joke or nickname ready to brush off his cold sarcasm.

“You’d be cuter if you smiled more, y’know.”

“Careful, Fushiguro. If you roll your eyes any harder, they’ll fall out.”

He met every cheerful comment with a dry, scathing reply:

“I'm not here to be cute.”

“You’ve got enough sunshine for both of us. Don’t expect me to join your weather system.”

He told himself it was annoyance. He told himself you were a distraction. He kept telling himself that right up until he pushed too far.

“People like you smile so much because there's nothing going on behind it.”

And then your lips trembled.

You didn’t shoot back another witty line. You didn’t laugh. You just stared at him with glassy eyes, voice breaking as you whispered:

“Why do you hate me so much? What did I do to you?”

His heart fractured. He didn’t have a real answer—just this aching thing in his chest that made him lean forward and kiss you before he could even think.

From that moment on, he swore he’d never be the reason you cried again.

Now, you were near graduation, living together in a tiny apartment with noisy pipes, a single bed, and his quiet commitment stitched into every small thing he did. He cooked breakfast. He set your shoes by the door. He tried—awkwardly—to make you laugh.

And tonight, he came home with Gojo.

Which was already a disaster in motion.

Gojo, cheerfully barging into the apartment, tossing his coat over the chair like he owned the place:

“What’s for dinner, Megumi? Or are you two surviving on pure sexual tension again?”

“Shut up, Gojo.”

“Don’t be shy! She’s practically glowing. Must be love. Or pregnancy. Kidding—unless…?”

The bathroom door was cracked open.

“Hey,” Megumi called, “we’re back.”

No answer.

“Babe?”

You stepped out. Slowly. Your eyes were red. In your hand—

His heart dropped.

He didn’t see you run to him like usual. No bright smile. No jumping into his arms. Just you, standing frozen with a pregnancy test clutched in your trembling hand.

Gojo’s voice went high-pitched:

“Whoa. Plot twist.”

Silence. Thick, suffocating silence.

“Well, I should probably…not be here.” He clapped Megumi’s shoulder, mock-solemn. “Name it after me.”

“Get out.”

“Can’t believe my son beat me to this milestone.”

“Gojo. Out.”

“Fine, fine. I’m leaving. Kids grow up so fast...”

The door closed behind him.

Megumi couldn’t stop staring at you.

“…Is it—? Are you…?” he whispered, barely able to breathe. “Is this real?”

You gave the smallest nod.

He felt his whole chest flood with something warm and weightless and terrifyingly good.

A crooked, helpless smile started forming on his lips. He stepped closer, cupped your cheeks with both hands, brushing away the tears with his thumbs.

“Sunshine,” he murmured, “I didn’t think the next time I made you cry would be for this.”

It wasn’t the best joke. You didn’t laugh. But he kept smiling like a fool anyway.

“…Marry me,” he blurted.

You blinked.

“Oh. Right. That’s not—” He stumbled back a step, flustered. “That’s not how I’m supposed to ask.”

He dropped to one knee, right there in the hallway. Pressed a careful hand against your stomach. Took both of your hands in his.

“I’m serious. Stay with me. Let me take care of both of you. Will you marry me?”

He looked up at you, glowing with more light than you’d ever seen in him.

For once, the brooding shadow had turned into something bright. For once, you didn’t have to smile first—he did.

And when you did smile back, he swore it was the best thing he’d ever seen in his life.