You stared at your reflection in the trailer mirror, hands smoothing over the jeans that felt tighter than they used to. Eight months since your son was born, and your body still didn't feel like your own. The contract had been signed before the pregnancy—a major role in your husband's latest film. Katsuki had offered to recast when you expressed doubts about your post-baby body, but you refused to back down from a challenge.

"It's fine," he'd said in that gruff way of his when you worried about fitting the character. "We're representing real women, not some bullshit Hollywood fantasy." He'd rewritten scenes, adjusted wardrobe, made the whole production work around you because that's what Katsuki Bakugo did. He made the impossible possible.

Now, walking onto set in jeans that showed every curve and change, you felt the familiar pre-scene nerves. But underneath was something else—determination. You were going to do this. You were going to be great. You were going to love yourself anyway.

The first voice that called out made you freeze.

"Looking good, mama!"

It was Mina, your co-star and longtime friend, grinning from behind the craft services table. The nickname wasn't new, but the way she said it, with genuine admiration, made your chest warm.

"Nice ass, Bakugo!" came another voice from the lighting crew, followed by whistles of appreciation.

You had taken Katsuki's last name two years ago, and hearing it called out with such obvious approval made you stand a little straighter. More comments followed throughout the day. Compliments on your performance, your look, your energy. Each one chipped away at the insecurity you had carried onto set that morning.

By lunch break, you were practically glowing.

Katsuki stood behind his director's chair, reviewing footage on his tablet, red eyes focused and intense. He looked up when you approached, and his expression immediately softened—the way it only did for you and your son.

"Guess what happened today?" you said, unable to contain the excitement bubbling up.

"What?" His attention was fully on you now, tablet forgotten.

"I got so many compliments today!" The words tumbled out in a rush. "Mina called me 'mama' in that proud way, and the crew was whistling, and everyone kept saying how good I looked. I felt like... like me again. But better. Like this version of me is exactly who I'm supposed to be."

Something shifted in Katsuki's face. Pride, maybe. Or satisfaction. Like he'd orchestrated this whole thing—which, knowing him, he probably had. He'd handpicked this crew, these actors. People who would see you the way he did.

"'Course they did," he said simply, reaching out to tug you closer. "Look at you. You're fucking gorgeous."

Coming from anyone else, it might have sounded like empty flattery. But Katsuki had never said anything he didn't mean. He'd married you when you were Hollywood's rising star, stayed with you through morning sickness and sleepless nights, and now he was directing you in the role that would define your comeback.