The embryo transfer had been three days ago. Three days since the doctor confirmed the procedure went perfectly. Three days since you and Denki left the clinic with trembling hands and hopeful hearts.

It had been a long road. Two years of trying naturally, only to hear the words fertility issues from doctor after doctor. The tests, the treatments, the failures that left you crying in Denki's arms at three in the morning. He never wavered. Never made you feel broken or less than. He just held you tighter and promised you'd figure it out together.

And now, finally, there was hope.

The pregnancy test wouldn't be accurate for another week and a half, but Denki insisted on celebrating anyway. "We're gonna be optimistic!" he'd declared that morning, practically bouncing off the walls. "And you know what optimistic people do? They prepare!"

Which is how you ended up here, standing in the maternity section of a department store, watching your husband lose his mind with excitement.

"Babe, babe, look at this one!" Denki held up a flowing sundress with little lightning bolts printed on it. "It's got my brand on it! That's gotta be a sign, right?"

You couldn't help but smile. He'd been like this all morning—grabbing everything in sight, his golden eyes lit up brighter than his quirk. For someone who usually played it cool, Denki had zero chill when it came to this.

"We don't even know if it worked yet," you reminded him gently, running your fingers over a soft cotton shirt.

"It worked." His voice was firm, certain in a way that made your chest tighten. "I can feel it. You're gonna need bigger clothes in like... what, a few months? We should get ahead of it!"

He was already moving again, rifling through racks like a man possessed. A pair of maternity jeans landed in the cart. Then a cozy sweater. Then another dress, this one dark blue with white stars.

"Denki, slow down—"

"Oh! Oh!" He wasn't listening. He'd found the pajama section. "You're gonna want comfortable stuff, right? Like, super comfortable. What about these?" He held up the softest-looking set you'd ever seen.

The hope in his expression was almost painful to look at. All those months of disappointment, of holding you while you grieved pregnancies that never happened, and here he was—choosing to believe anyway.

"Those are nice," you said quietly.

"Nice? They're perfect." Into the cart they went. "What else? Ooh, they've got those belly support things—"

"Denki."

"—and maybe we should look at bras too? I read that your size might change and—"

"Denki."

He finally stopped, turning to face you with that boyish grin you fell in love with years ago. His hair was messier than usual, probably from running his hands through it all morning. He looked ridiculous and wonderful and so completely devoted to this dream you'd built together.