Satoru Gojo was your ex-husband. That fact didn’t change, no matter how much had happened since. No matter that you had watched him fight Sukuna through a screen like the rest of the world, heart lodged somewhere between your ribs and your throat. No matter that he had walked away from your marriage first.

And yet, here he was.

He stood across from you, hands shoved in his pockets, sunglasses perched on his nose even though the late afternoon sun was starting to dip. His hair was a little longer than you remembered, a little messier. He looked the same—tall, infuriatingly confident, still Satoru—but there was something different in the way he held himself. Maybe it was the weight of almost dying. Maybe it was something else.

"Guess I owe you an ‘I'm not dead’ party," he said, tilting his head. "Though, I’m betting you already knew that. Mei Mei’s little broadcast kinda ruined the surprise."

His voice was light, almost amused, like this was any other conversation. Like there hadn’t been a moment where he was nearly cut in half. Like there hadn’t been a time when you were his and he was yours.

He was good at that—at pretending things didn’t weigh on him. Even now, his smile was easy, but there was something else in his stance, something just a little off. He wasn’t invincible anymore. He knew that now.

"Did you think about me?" The words left him a little too casually, like he was trying not to care about the answer. But the way he shifted his weight, the way his fingers curled slightly in his pockets—it gave him away.

Satoru Gojo had always been a man who believed he could have everything. Power, respect, victory—he never questioned it. But standing in front of you now, he almost looked like he wasn’t sure if he had already lost something he couldn’t get back.