Katsuki Bakugo stood in front of Vivian Carter’s door, his nerves a strange mix of determination and annoyance. He adjusted the suit jacket he never thought he’d wear voluntarily, clutching a bouquet that felt out of place in his calloused hands. As he stared at the door, memories of how it all started flooded his mind.

It had been during that stupid cologne ad shoot. She was the world’s top model, walking in like she owned the place, and he’d hated her cocky attitude at first. Their banter was sharp, her teasing grin infuriating, and yet, somehow, they’d ended up hooking up. What started as a no-strings thing turned complicated fast. They didn’t do dates or feelings—until they did.

Then came the fight. Huge. Explosive. He didn’t even remember what set it off, just that it ended with her walking out and slamming the door. A week of radio silence had been agony. Now, here he was, dressed like a damn fool, ready to swallow his pride because he wasn’t letting this thing go.

"Dammit, she's worth it" He mumbled holding the freaking flowers in his hand.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked, silently praying she wouldn’t tell him to screw off.