Ripples of Fate

Chapter 19: Unspoken Consequences

Mailin’s POV

The infirmary is eerily quiet, the only sound the steady beeping of machines monitoring Shota's condition. I sit beside his bed, my fingers brushing against his bandaged hand, my heart heavy with worry. He looks so fragile, so unlike the man I’ve known for so long—the man I’ve admired, maybe even… No, I can’t let my thoughts go there. Not now. Not while he’s lying here, broken and bruised because of everything he sacrificed to protect us.

I haven’t left his side since the moment they wheeled him in, even after the doctors explained his injuries—facial fractures, a shattered orbital floor, broken arms. Hearing it laid out like that sent chills through me. His injuries are bad, worse than I realized in the heat of battle. And yet, here I am, helpless, just sitting and waiting. I’ve been healing him, trying to ease the worst of the pain, but I know there are limits to what I can do.

The hours drag by, and exhaustion creeps in. My eyelids feel heavy, but I refuse to leave. I can't leave him.

I reach out again, my fingers brushing against his hand, and I rest my head on my folded arms, watching him sleep. His face is drawn, his breathing steady but shallow. I can’t help but wonder if he’d be in this position if I had been stronger, faster—if I’d done more. But that train of thought only brings more guilt, and I push it aside, focusing on the fact that he’s still here. He’s alive. And I’m not going anywhere.

I don’t know when I fall asleep, but the sound of the door creaking open pulls me from a dreamless slumber. Blinking away the grogginess, I realize with a start that my hand is still on his, my head resting on the side of his bed.

"Ah, good, you're both awake," a voice says, making me jolt upright.

I look up to see the doctor standing by the door, clipboard in hand, his expression neutral. My cheeks flush instantly, and I snatch my hand away from Shota’s as if I’ve been caught doing something inappropriate. Not that… well, not that I was doing anything wrong, but still.

Before I can say anything, the doctor smiles, glancing between us with amusement. “It’s good to see Mr. Aizawa has such a devoted wife.”

What? My heart skips a beat, and I feel my face turn crimson.

“No, no, we’re not—” I start to protest, but my words stumble over themselves, and all I can manage is a flustered mess of syllables.

From the corner of my eye, I notice Shota shift slightly, his brows furrowing as he regains consciousness. He blinks groggily, his gaze landing on me first, then the doctor. Slowly, as if piecing together the scene, his eyes widen slightly, and a blush creeps onto his cheeks as well.

"Wait... what?" His voice is raspy, but the confusion is clear.

The doctor chuckles, clearly unaware of the awkward tension now flooding the room. “Oh, my mistake. But it’s good to know you’ll have someone to help take care of you during your recovery.”

Shota and I exchange an awkward glance, both of us avoiding eye contact for more than a second. His expression, usually so composed, is uncharacteristically flustered, and I know mine can’t be much better. My heart hammers in my chest, and I feel heat crawling up my neck.

The doctor, oblivious to the turmoil he’s caused, starts explaining Shota’s injuries again, going into detail about the fractures, the crushed orbital floor that could impact his quirk if not given proper rest. All the while, I try to calm myself, focusing on the medical terms rather than the warmth lingering from the hand I just held.

Shota shifts uncomfortably in his bed. "I need to get back to teaching."

The doctor sighs, clearly exasperated. “Mr. Aizawa, you need time to heal. If you push yourself, you risk doing permanent damage.”