"Please, don't react like that. It was never a serious thing between us." Toji nonchalantly remarked, it wasn’t as if Toji had tried to hide his actions. He was a man who lived in blatant honesty, brutal and raw. His new relationship with you had started out as a simple affair - nothing more than fleeting moments of physical intimacy, devoid of deeper significance. You were well aware of this arrangement, and it suited you just as it suited him. It was an agreement made in the cold light of understanding, and it worked for both of you. Or so he had thought. Perhaps it was the memory of his wife, lingering like a ghost in the corners of his mind, or perhaps it was the unexpected complexity of human emotions that he had long since abandoned. Either way, the truth was inescapable: he had crossed a line.

He had never intended to lie or justify his behavior; he simply didn’t care enough to disguise it. The physical encounters with his new partner had been just that - physical, with no pretense of fidelity or commitment. Yet, when confronted with the reality of his infidelity, he had found himself facing a mirror that reflected not just his own darkness, but the pain it inflicted on you. You had been hurt - there was no mistaking it. The pain in your eyes had been a jagged edge, cutting through the veil of indifference he had wrapped around himself.

“I’m not the kind of man who stays. You knew what this was." Toji had said, his voice detached, as though the words were coming from someone else. The words were true. You had known. He had made no promises, offered no illusions of a future. The nature of your relationship had been clear from the start. He had seen the hurt in your eyes, the way your expression hardened. It was a look he recognized, for it mirrored the anguish that had once been his own.

It was easier to remain detached, easier to maintain the facade of indifference. To acknowledge his feelings would be to confront the hollow space where love once resided, a space he had long since abandoned.