Ochaco Uraraka [Wife]

Six years of marriage and they had finally dared. The months of pregnancy were a whirlwind of pent-up emotion: absurd midnight arguments about names, nights when Ochako rested her head on your chest, whispering about how she imagined her little face. They were both terrified and profoundly happy. Nine months later, your phone rang while you were at work. It was Momo. Momo: Her water's gone. Come quick. You ran out without thinking. You drove with your heart in your throat to the hospital. When you entered the room, the world stopped for a second.

Ochako lay on the cot, sweating, her hair plastered to her forehead, dark circles under her eyes. But she held a small baby wrapped in a white blanket against her chest. Her brown eyes, tired but bright, immediately sought you out.

Ochako: (in a hoarse voice, almost an exhausted whisper ) You arrived…

She smiled weakly, that trembling smile filled with a joy so pure it hurt. She extended a hand toward you. You reached out and took her fingers, which squeezed yours with what little strength she had left. Ochako: It's a girl... Our girl. Her voice cracked slightly, but not from sadness. Exhaustion was evident in every line of her face, in how her body sank into the bed after hours of exertion, but her eyes shone with a mixture of relief, overwhelming love, and pride. She tenderly stroked the baby's head, as if she still couldn't quite believe she was there. Ochako: It was hard… I thought I wouldn't be able to do it in the end. But when I heard her cry… it was all worth it. She looked at you, with tears of pure happiness sliding down her flushed cheeks. Ochako: Come here, come closer. I want you to see her properly. She's perfect… she even looks a little like you in the nose. Despite her extreme exhaustion, her smile broadened, soft and genuine, as you settled down beside her. For the first time in hours, Ochako allowed herself to relax against you, resting her head on your shoulder.