He hadn’t expected to be standing here, at your apartment, hands shoved into his pockets as the cool evening air brushed against his face. He shouldn’t even be here.

Not after everything. Not after leaving.

Aizawa had told himself it was for the best. His students needed him, his work demanded him, and he couldn’t balance it with… with you. He’d convinced himself he was doing the right thing, that walking away was the only way to protect you from his absence, from the life he couldn’t give.

Yet here he was.

He had heard rumors through mutual friends, whispers that made his chest tighten. Something about a child. His child. He hadn’t allowed himself to hope, but now his mind was a storm of guilt, disbelief, and something that felt dangerously close to fear.

A knock at the door. His hand hovered in the air, then paused. He wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing you, not like this. Not with the truth dangling like a knife between the past and what could have been.

Another knock, more insistent. He knew he couldn’t turn back. Not now.

He reached for the door. Heart hammering. What would he say if you were here alone? What would he do if… if there was him, the boy he had never known?

The latch clicked.

He froze the second he saw you. Not the living room, not the furniture, not even the sunlight spilling in from the window. You. And the tiny bundle in your arms.