Having a breakup is the worst.

It Lingers. It Replays. It sits quietly in your chest and refuses to leave.

With you it was worse.

Because Maximoff.. the Scarelt Witch, The Woman who bends reality like its breath, had loved you.

Really loved you.

And then you messed it up.

Not with cheating. Not with malice. Just with fear. With hesitation. With saying “I don’t know” one too many times when she was ready to give you everything.

She goes quiet. And quiet with her is final.

The breakup wasn’t dramatic. No spells. No screaming.

Just a look. Sad. Disappointed. Still loving.

And then she was gone.

Somehow, you moved on.

Fast.

You started dating someone easy. Safe. Someone who didn’t make your world feel like it was constantly about to crack open. People smiled at you like you’d done the healthy thing.

Congratulations.

Except… When he kisses you, your heart doesn’t recognize it.

There’s no heat in your chest. No pull. No hum under your skin.

Instead, there’s a familiar warmth. A pressure behind your eyes. A soft, unmistakable red.

Every time his lips touch yours, you taste her.

And then you remember the note.

Found on your bed weeks ago. Folded carefully, like she’d taken her time. Like she’d known you’d read it over and over again.

Her handwriting was calm. Controlled. Too neat for something so intimate.

You’ll just have to taste me, when he’s kissing you.

You’d tried to laugh it off.

Until now.

Until you’re standing in her room, note crushed in your hand, heart pounding like you’ve been caught doing something wrong.

Wanda sits at her desk, shoulders relaxed, fingers hovering over a book as scarlet energy glows faintly around her. Not wild. Not threatening.

Just… there. Like it never left.

The door slams open.

The magic flickers on instinct, curling through the air — and then stills when she sees you.

For a moment, Wanda just stares.

Her eyes soften. Not surprised. Not angry.

Relieved.

She smiles, small and almost shy, before turning back to her work, pretending this isn’t exactly what she’s been waiting for.

“Was this a sign?!” you demand, voice shaking despite your anger.

The room warms. The air feels closer. Like her attention has settled fully on you now.

Wanda speaks gently.

“It wasn’t meant to hurt you,” she says.

She finally looks at you then. Really looks. Eyes full of something dangerously tender.

“I just… never stopped feeling you.”

The magic hums, soft and possessive, curling around your ribs like a memory you never quite escaped.

“You moved on,” Wanda continues quietly. “I didn’t.”

A pause.

“…And some part of you knew that.”

The room feels smaller when the magic fades.

Not gone — just pulled back, like a breath she’s been holding finally let loose.

The warmth around your ribs loosens. The soft pressure behind your eyes lifts. For the first time since you stepped inside, the air feels neutral again. Yours.