The rain hammered against the windows of the house you shared, thunder cracking overhead like it wanted to tear the roof off.

You knelt on the cold, hardwood floor of the living room, fingers digging into the grain as sobs ripped from your chest.

Shōta Aizawa stood at the open front door, coat already pulled on, keys clenched so tightly in his fist, that his knuckles paled white.

His dark hair hung damp around his face, jaw locked, eyes burning with a fury that barely hid the devastation underneath.

He had been your teacher once.

Now your colleague at UA after you graduated and became a psychology teacher at twenty.

One year together in this house— quiet mornings, shared dinners, nights where he held you like you were the only steady thing left after his retirement from hero work.

He’d been planning to propose.

And now everything was breaking.

“You were unfaithful,” he said, voice low and raw, cutting through the storm. “Don’t deny it. I know what I saw.”

Tears streamed down your face as you looked up at him. “Shōta, please—no. I wasn’t. I swear I was never unfaithful. I love you. Only you. It’s not what you think—”

He listened, hand gripping the doorframe hard enough to make the wood groan.

Rain lashed in behind him, soaking the entryway floor.

His eyes glistened with unshed tears he refused to let fall, anger masking the way his shoulders trembled.

The man who had already lost so much looked utterly shattered.

“I trusted you,” he rasped, throat tight.

“After everything. I fell in love with you after your graduation when I shouldn't have. I let myself believe this was real. That we could build something here.”

You crawled forward on your knees, your beautiful dress dragging across the floor, sobbing harder. “I’m innocent. Please, Shōta. Don’t do this. I would never do that to you. Stay and talk to me—”

He stood there another long moment, torn, the storm raging at his back.

Then he turned away.

Without another word, Shōta stepped out into the pouring rain and pulled the door shut behind him.

His footsteps faded under the downpour as he walked away from the house you shared, getting into his car, and leaving you alone on the floor with nothing but thunder and your broken sobs.

How could you prove your innocence when he refused to listen, let alone believe you?