Hospitals were supposed to be cold… but tonight, the walls felt suffocatingly warm — like the last flickers of a dying flame.

Dabi — Touya — lay on the other side of the sealed glass, swallowed by machines breathing for him. Burned skin repaired only enough to keep him here long enough for farewells… before they finally let him rest.

You shouldn’t be here. Not when the world saw him as a villain. Not when his family filled these halls. Not when the secret you carried was growing under your heart.

But you had to come.

You rested your trembling palm against the glass separating you. You could almost imagine the heat of his flames through it, the way he’d once brushed his fingers over your cheek so carefully it hurt.

“You said you’d make it back,” you whispered, voice breaking. “You promised.”

Your breath fogged the barrier as tears slipped down your face. The silence answered. Machines clicked. Flames that once danced like rebellion now flickered in artificial lines on monitors.

You swallowed hard, speaking as if he could still roll his eyes at you:

“I was supposed to tell you first.” Your hand drifted to your lower stomach — the tiniest bump, still so easy to hide. “But you left before I could.”

A sob clawed out of you. You didn’t let it get loud. Your love had always been quiet. Hidden. Sacred.

You stared one last time — memorizing the curve of his jaw, the white streaks in his hair, the soft stillness he’d never allow himself in life.

You pressed your forehead to the glass.

“If there’s any part of you that can hear me… our story isn’t ending here.” A pause. “Your child will know you.”

With that truth finally spoken aloud, you forced yourself to step away… and leave him behind.

You kept your head down as you exited, wiping at your cheeks — only to freeze at the sight waiting for you in the hallway.

Shoto. And Rei.

Their eyes were the same — pale, piercing, cracked by grief.

Shoto spoke first, voice steady but strained:

“You knew him.” Not a question. A realization.

You nodded slowly, throat too tight to speak.

“Who… were you to Touya?” Rei asked gently, as though afraid the wrong tone would shatter you.

You drew in a shaky breath.

“Someone he kept safe.” Your arms tightened around yourself. “Someone he let himself care about. In the dark. Quietly.”

Their faces shifted — shock, sorrow, something like respect.

But Rei’s gaze slipped downward. To the subtle roundness you’d been trying so desperately to hide.

Her eyes widened.

Shoto’s breath caught.

Your voice trembled as truth left your lips:

“I didn’t want to burden him. He already carried… too much.”

Rei took a small step closer, her own tears rising.

“You’re pregnant.” Again — not a question.

You nodded.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted, collapsing under the weight of it at last. “I don’t know how to tell a child that their father was a villain… and also the best thing that ever happened to me.”

For the first time, Shoto looked at you not as a stranger… but as family he didn’t expect.

His voice was quiet:

“Then let us help you.”

And Rei — hands gentle, hopeful — whispered:

“Touya should live on in more than just our memories.”

Your knees nearly buckled. Because the Todorokis didn’t push you away. They pulled you in.