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(I sit and watch you reading with your head low)
I notice the light rust on the golden plated number on the door before I fumble with the keys until I manage to insert them in, turning the knob with only a sneeze on my part to announce my presence.
The apartment is relatively lit, with geometric shapes acting as a light source. As I round the corner, dark corners are gaping, including the kitchen and the open door to the laundry room. I shudder despite the warmth that wafts from our upgraded heating system that he had insisted on installing when we first moved in, knocking his knuckles against my forehead, pointing out that I easily get sick. It helped, I suppose, but the warmth displayed now in this harsh winter has recently been overshadowed by the cold presence he exudes.
It’s raining relentlessly, evidence being my hair as it sticks to my brow, although the books and vegetables I had brought in were safely protected inside my coat. I carefully take off my headphones, Sony gleaming off their sides. Slowly I approach our bedroom, and as expected, he’s doing reports, his head hanging to the side, eyebrow furrowed, not looking up even when I clear my throat.
“Hey Katsuki,” I mutter, “when’d you get here?”
I hang my coat on the handle, taking my books to the bookshelf nearby. He takes a minute to reply.
“About an hour ago, dinner was shit. Don’t take out from that sushi restaurant again.”
“Oh, well,” I itched the side of my forehead; I thought it was pretty good. “How was work? Any problems?”
“ 'nothin. Just did patrol with Shitty Hair,”
“Ah. Haven't seen Kirishima in a while, why don't you invite him to dinner sometime?” I suggested.
He grunted. Whether in approval or disapproval I couldn't tell. “I had a good work day today, father said that I should be able to acquire his position within a few months,”
I was met with silence on his end. Sighing, I padded to the closet, pulling out a basket of dirty clothes. “He also wanted to talk to you soon. Something about good family investment,”
He looked up, confusion etched on his face, “My career is a good enough investment,”
I hummed, before to turning to ask him, “When did you say that gala was? The uh, award ceremony?”
“Tch, how many times do I have to repeat it? Friday Y/n!” I sigh, making my way to my vanity.
“Right, Friday,” Our fifth anniversary. I thought of reminding him, but he looked pissed off as it is.
“Here, let me do it for you,” I offered, taking the tie from his hand.
He said nothing but simply glanced at the watch on his wrist. I mechanically moved as if trained years to do this. And in some sense, it was true. It used to be a way to showcase my affections for him and his to appreciate me wholeheartedly, but now…
“There,” I whispered, fixing his suit although it was perfectly pristine.
He hummed, and I thought he was looking at me with something other than a deep annoyance for a split second. But as soon as my eyes met his in a hopeful gaze, he tore away from me.
“Can’t be late, so hurry up.”
I can understand to a certain extent why Katsuki worked so hard for what he became now, the 2nd top hero in all of Japan. The glamorous parties, connections, and sea of beautiful women all dressed in expensive dresses. Amongst them, I felt plain, despite the dress my mother sent me from Italy, where she was vacationing, rivaling against said gorgeously dressed women.
I held onto Bakugou’s suit-clad arm, carefully constructing my face to a poised, practiced smile I often use during meetings at my father’s trading corporation. He had yet to retire as chairman, and I was content with my position, despite the everyday exchange of fake pleasantries (but it was sometimes the only way to seal the deal).
I arched my back, rolled my shoulders, and held my head as high as possible. As soon as we enter the humongous doors of silver and gold, I take a good glance around. Not only to look for old friends but to manage a few good business deals, a mission assigned by my father. And lucky me, I am met by one approaching from my right. Strike one is the creator of Beez, an up-and-coming video game company. Easy pray and is deemed to be successful.
“Ah, Mrs. Bakugou, a pleasure to see you here,” he greets me once within talking distance before grabbing my outstretched hand for a shake, doing the same to Katsuki, whose eyes harshly scrutinize him.
“The pleasure’s all mine Mr. Nanaka, and you know my husband,” I gesture, to which he lets out a big laugh.
“Who wouldn’t know top hero Dynamight! Big fan here, and let me tell you, we are already creating an entire video game about you pro-heroes!” he exclaimed, flashing a charming smile.
Nanaka Suwa, a young man in his twenties, self-made and becoming more successful by the day. He is charming as one could get, especially with the glistening of his dark hair. I went to middle school with him but the years had grew on us, it has been a long while since we've talked.
Bakugou grunted before asking, “Video game?”
I laughed awkwardly before quickly replying, “Nanaka here owns a video game company, very successful if I may add,”
Katsuki gave me a look, practically spewing words from his gaze, ‘of course you only came here for business, tch. what can I expect from you.’
“Right, and weren’t you the first to doubt me when I told you back in middle school?”
“Ha, of course, I was! You showed me plans for a company that could rival a second grader,” I exclaimed, surprised that he even mentioned our past friendship.
“Uh, okay. Those drawings are what got me here, attending this gala, walking amongst literal heroes,” “Alright, alright. Say, draw me up a contract, let’s do some business together,” He smirked, “You got yourself a deal.”
Nanaka walked away, but not before presenting me with his card. I turned to Bakugou, only to see him chatting with non-other than Ochacko. Pain swarmed my chest, a hurt look on my face as he seemed to hold a gentle gaze towards her. An odd memory fluttered in the back of my head, triggered by the scene in front of me. It felt all too familiar, a feeling I thought was long gone. He swore that he stopped loving her, that he loved me. But how I can believe it now as I did back then when for the past few months, nothing but dread occurred in my stomach to watch him seemingly move on from our supposed life together. Before I could approach them, a hand latched on my shoulder, breaking me away from the thoughts that swam in my head. As I meet his heterochromia eyes, a sudden smile breaks out.
“Todoroki!”
“L/n, how are you?” His brows were pushed uncharacteristically, concern deeply imprinted on his face.
I sigh, fighting the urge to look back at the horrific scene, “Doing as best as I can, what about you? Long time no see,” I chided playfully.
“Listen, this may not be the best circumstance, but I have to talk to you privately,”
“Yeah, sure. What’s going on?” I uttered slowly.
The ride home was excruciating, and what tears I expected to burst were but mere droplets that I hadn’t let go past my lashes. Rain was heavy, the perfect weather for a walk outside with an umbrella or hot cocoa and an old sitcom. What a waste.
My face fell as I looked at the package that had arrived at my door; a gift for him. My breath slowed as I picked it up, throwing it in the trash can in his office as soon as I entered.
What! What right does he have to keep me hanging as a trophy wife while he hangs around her! And to think-- just to think that I love him
-- loved him? Does he even love me?
Did he ever?
After all the support I've given him, sleepless nights spent worrying over if he'd even make it home, if he's injured or in the hospital, becoming friends with his friends so that he could feel comfortable. Where'd that all go? Could it so easily vanish? The years we had spent together?
It was as if one day he woke up and decided that I wasn't good enough for him. The 2nd top hero in the game. And I tried to get to him, tried to understand, relentlessly. Figures, it was another woman. Something I hadn't expected out of someone whom I knew so well, memorized like poetry.
As quickly and as quietly as I could, I shoved what belongings I had in a spare box we had left. Pictures ripped apart on the floor, books of his mingled with mine thrown mindlessly. Clothes and toiletries in bags. Not a single trace left of me. Except for the couch I had picked, the drapes we hung together, and the paintings I had bought just for him. What a fool.
I wish he had ended it long before this had started.
Why... why couldn’t he???
Why, why, why, why...
Nevermind that.
With all my belongings pushed to the front door, it felt like the dagger thrust into my heart for these long, empty months had finally been pulled out. Staggering to the kitchen island, I left my ring, allowing a teardrop to escape the dam I had tried to build.
Divorce papers were sitting on Bakugou’s desk as he eyed them with distaste. He rubbed his eyes, marked with dark rings. It was a painful reminder of his mistakes when he seemed to awaken from a nightmare at the sight of their apartment that night.
He searched all night long, called her until his phone died, and even dared to ask her parents. She had... simply disappeared. He had assumed until he received these cursed papers in his rough hands.
He didn’t mean to go that far. And she was perfect. Their life together was perfect. Almost too perfect. He got scared. It was a terrifying realization he had nearly five years after the fact, and he couldn’t--
A ping brought him out of his distracted mind. Someone had sent him something. An article. Articles.
The air tensed, stilled. Her.
Clad in all white, she was smiling, brighter than she had possibly all her life. Receiving what seemed to be an award.
With chairman L/n F/n now retired, his multi-millionaire company falls in the hands of his one and only daughter, L/n Y/n, who has proven herself in the last decade more than... He swiped quickly, his finger accidentally pressing on the second one he had been sent. Dating scandal of the month! Here we have it, folks; it seems even successful businessmen can’t keep from the gossip, as we see our beloved L/n Y/n hand in hand with up-and-coming Nanaka Suwa, who had shown up to the event personally to support her...
Oh.