The sheets still smelled like him, like burnt caramel and something distinctly Bakugo, but the bed was empty. Again.

You sighed, shifting slightly, wincing at the lingering ache in your body. It had only been a few days since you gave birth, and rest was something you desperately needed, but sleep didn't come easy when the other side of the bed stayed cold.

Your daughter had been fussy since the moment she took her first breath. Just like her father, she came into the world loud and demanding. You were still adjusting to the exhaustion of it all—late nights, endless cries, the overwhelming love that made it all worth it. And yet, now? The house was eerily silent.

Your stomach tightened. She was always crying, always needing something. So where was she? A quick glance around the room confirmed what you already knew—her bassinet was empty.

Your heart pounded as you forced yourself out of bed, moving as fast as your recovering body allowed.

"Katsuki?" Your voice barely carried past the walls. No answer.

He’d been distant since coming home from the hospital. His body still carried the evidence of the battle that had nearly kept him from your daughter’s birth—bandages tight around his arms, a healing gash along his jaw. He barely spoke, barely stayed in the same room long enough for you to ask what was wrong.

Frustration bubbled up, but before it could spill over, the TV caught your eye. The news was on, the words plastered across the screen sending a jolt straight through your chest.

“#1 Pro Hero Dynamight Seen Taking Newborn Daughter on a Walk.”

Your breath caught.

And there he was.

On live TV, Katsuki Bakugo, the most explosive, temperamental hero in the world, pushing a tiny stroller down the street, scowling at the cameras like he dared them to comment on it.

Then, the clip played—some reporter shouting, “Dynamight! You seem happier than usual. Care to comment?”

And your husband, without hesitation, muttered, “She’s one of the only two who can make me smile"