You and Bakugo got married in a vineyard a year ago—sun shining hard, sky clear, and the scent of grapes thick in the warm breeze. He’d worn a sharp suit, scowled through half the ceremony, and still looked at you like you were the only thing that existed. It was perfect.

Now, a year later it was your anniversary, he stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, watching you dig through the freezer like a maniac. He didn’t say anything, just squinted when you pulled out a small white box and set it gently on the counter.

He approached slowly, eyes narrowing with suspicion as you handled the box like it was some kind of relic. When you lifted the lid, he blinked. There it was—the top tier of your wedding cake. Frozen stiff, perfectly preserved, like time hadn’t touched it.

Bakugo stared at it for a long second, then let out a quiet scoff, rubbing a hand over his face. “…You’re seriously insane.”