Happy Ever After : To be a Three-person-family

Chapter 1: Left Behind

“The baby is perfectly healthy,” the doctor reassured with a kind smile, flipping through Sho’s medical report. “There’s no problem at all. But if you notice anything—even the smallest concern—don’t hesitate to call me.”

Izuku let out a relieved breath, glancing down at his son, Sho, nestled securely in his arms. His little chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his tiny fingers curled into the soft fabric of Izuku’s sweater.

“The same goes for you too, Midoriya-san,” the doctor added, tone shifting to something more serious. “Your hormonal balance is still unstable. While omegas have a womb and can give birth, the process differs significantly from that of a woman. You nearly died during labor. You need to rest as much as possible.”

Izuku stiffened slightly but forced a small, polite nod. “I understand. Thank you, doctor.”

As he walked out of the examination room, he immediately spotted his mother, Inko, waiting anxiously by the entrance. Her hands clutched the strap of her purse, her green eyes darting toward him the second he stepped into view.

“Izuku! How was it? Is everything okay? What did the doctor say?” she asked, her voice laced with concern as she reached for Sho.

Izuku sighed, adjusting his hold on his son before passing him over. “Mom, he’s fine. It was just a routine checkup. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Inko held Sho close, her fingers gently brushing against his soft tufts of red-and-white hair. Her gaze softened as she rocked him slightly, but her frown didn’t disappear. “How can I not worry? You’ve always had a weak physique, and now you’re raising a baby all alone. You barely sleep, you barely eat, and—”

“I’m fine,” Izuku cut in quickly, offering her a strained smile. “Really, Mom.”

But Inko knew better.

She had seen the dark circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders drooped with exhaustion. She noticed the way he hesitated before speaking about Todoroki—how his smile never quite reached his eyes anymore.

She had watched her son fall in love, watched him glow with happiness when he talked about the future he wanted to build with Todoroki. And then, she had watched that light dim, piece by piece, as reality caught up to them.

She hadn’t pried. She hadn’t wanted to push too hard. But it was obvious—Izuku was struggling, even if he refused to say it out loud.

As they stepped outside, she adjusted Sho’s blanket, shielding him from the cold wind. “Izuku, I haven’t touched your old room. You know that, right? If it’s too much, you and Sho can always move back home. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Izuku stiffened.

“No.” His grip on the stroller tightened. “That house… Todoroki-kun will return to it. I have to take care of it properly.”

Inko inhaled sharply, pressing her lips together. She wanted to tell him that Todoroki might never come back. That it wasn’t fair for Izuku to keep waiting for someone who had already left. But she didn’t have the heart to say it.

Instead, she reached out, gently squeezing Izuku’s hand. “Alright, as you wish,” she murmured.

They rode the rest of the way home in silence.

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“Granny overthinks too much, doesn’t she?” Izuku murmured as he unfastened Sho’s carrier. The baby blinked up at him with wide, unfocused eyes, making soft, sleepy noises.

Izuku chuckled bitterly. “Maybe I inherited that from her.”

The house was too quiet.

Todoroki had bought it for them—for their family. He had insisted on the high-tech security systems: fingerprint locks, emergency buttons in every room, wireless sensors on the windows. Izuku had agreed, thinking it was just Todoroki being overly cautious.

But now… now, it felt less like protection and more like a prison made of memories.

He placed Sho in his crib, brushing his fingers lightly over his son’s red-and-white hair. “You really do look like him…” he whispered. “But I suppose that’s expected.”

After making sure Sho was comfortable, Izuku turned back to his chores.

Laundry.
Dishes.
Cleaning the kitchen.
Vacuuming the living room.

He told himself he was just keeping busy, but deep down, he knew—he was trying to outrun the thoughts creeping into his head.

Even when he sat on the couch, flipping through the channels on the TV, he felt restless. He found himself glancing at his phone, waiting for a message that never came.

And then—

Ring!

The sudden vibration made him jolt. He scrambled for the phone, eyes widening slightly at the name flashing across the screen.

Todoroki.

“…Hello?”

“Hey,” came the familiar voice on the other end. “Are you busy?”

Izuku let out a slow breath. “That should be my line.”

Todoroki chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

There was a brief pause.

“Is it breakfast time over there?” Izuku asked.

“Yeah. I had a little time, so I thought I’d call.” A beat. “Is Sho sleeping?”

“He is. I’ll send you a photo later.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” Another pause. “And you? How are you? Have you eaten yet?”

Izuku hesitated. “…I was just about to.”

“Good.” There was a small, fond warmth in Todoroki’s voice. “Things are going well here. I’m getting better at English, though I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how huge the portion sizes are.”

Izuku chuckled, the smallest smile ghosting his lips. “Large portions, huh?”

“Yeah. I’ll tell you about it someday.”

Before Izuku could respond, a muffled voice came through the receiver.

“Mr. Todoroki, the meeting is starting soon.”

“Oh—sorry,” Todoroki muttered, his voice shifting slightly. “Looks like I have to go.”

Izuku’s fingers tightened around the phone. “It’s okay. I’m glad I got to hear your voice.”

“Me too.” There was another brief pause. Then, softly—“Goodnight. Love you.”

Izuku swallowed past the lump in his throat. “…Love you too. Bye.”

He ended the call.

The silence that followed felt heavier than before.

He stared at the phone for a long moment, then at the house around him.

A house meant for a family.
A family that no longer existed.

Todoroki-kun, you liar…

He clenched his hands into fists, his nails biting into his palms.

This house was too big for just the two of them.

The security system, the fingerprint locks, the emergency buttons—it was all there to protect them.

But from what? From who?

Maybe Todoroki had known, even before Izuku did.

That in the end, he would leave them behind.

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