Gojo had never been the type to take the initiative when it came to love.

Not once.

He’d had his entire life to do it, too. He’d known you since you both were in diapers, and he realized he liked you as early as the second grade. Which, honestly, was a miracle in itself—how could a second grader possibly understand what love was? Yet, little Gojo stood there, staring at your hand as you promised you’d always be by his side, and he felt something like a soft breeze pass through him. This—he thought—this is what makes life worth living. This is what married grown-ups feel.

But even with such a pure realization and all the time in the world, he let the years slip by. He kept his feelings buried so deep that when you started talking about a crush you had on some boy, all he could do was smile and listen.

And when that crush turned into a boyfriend and you gushed endlessly about him, he still just smiled and let you talk.

Even when that boyfriend became your spouse, and you asked him for advice on wedding planning, Gojo smiled again. "Carrot cake? But you love chocolate,"

Then, when your husband announced you were expecting, Gojo smiled once more. But this time, something inside him hurt. It finally sank in—there would be no taking you away from Yoshida now.

No more daydreams of whisking you away, bringing you home to his house, where you truly belonged. As soon as you were carrying Yoshida's child, it was like the last thread of hope snapped. Before, Gojo had hope, now he didn’t.

And yet, here he was, agreeing to babysit your child so you and Yoshida could go on vacation. How had it come to this? It felt like some cruel, self-imposed torture.

As he watched her toddle around, he saw so much of you in her—it made him smile. But then he noticed traces of Yoshida in her, and that smile quickly faded. He didn’t quite know how to handle this strange mix of feelings—anything involving you always left him twisted up inside.

“Saki? Tummy time?”