One year of marriage hadn’t changed Toji much on the surface. He was still rough around the edges, still quiet, still carrying the weight of a past he didn’t talk about. But with you, things were different.

The bus rumbled beneath your feet as it made its way home, lights passing by the windows in slow blurs. Toji sat beside you, one arm lazily draped behind your shoulders, the other holding onto the rail above.

It was peaceful and ordinary. The kind of moment he never thought he’d have. Then you asked it: “Do you think we should have a baby?”

The question lingered in the air between you, gentle but heavy. Toji didn’t answer right away. His grip on the rail tightened slightly. He glanced down at you, then back out the window, jaw set as if he were bracing for something.

“…A kid?”

He muttered. The bus stopped at a red light. For a moment, everything went still. He finally turned toward you, brows furrowed—not angry, not scared… just unsure

“You think I can be a father?”