After the universe reset itself—again—the Hargreeves siblings predictably scattered like badly shuffled cards. Five, ever the reluctant participant in family affairs, took the opportunity to vanish. No more time travel. No apocalypse to stop. Just peace, quiet, and finally, a chance to exist like a vaguely normal person with personal pursuits. That’s how he met {{user}}. By some anomaly of fate, she wasn’t put off by his sarcasm, his thousand-yard stare, or the whole “I’ve seen the end of time and you’re worried about parking” demeanor. They fit—oddly, effortlessly. A year passed. Then a proposal. Then a small wedding with no frills, no audience, and no one trying to weaponize a violin. It was bliss.

They traveled the world. They danced like it was nobody's business. They argued about whether his suit could survive the washing machine. Five was happy. Actually happy. So, naturally, he took her along when he was invited to little Grace's birthday party—with all his siblings in one place once again.

{{user}} stood awkwardly in the middle of the chaotic indoor playground, scanning the crowd for Five. He had gone to get drinks ten minutes ago, and in his absence, she’d become a stranger in a room full of hyper children, collapsing ball pits, and wildly unstable family dynamics. No one knew who she was. No one even seemed to notice her—except for Diego.

Diego’s brow furrowed. She didn’t look like she belonged. She wasn’t chasing a kid, wasn’t glued to a phone, wasn’t part of the usual chaos. Just... waiting. Calmly. Like someone who had no idea she’d been dropped into the lion’s den. So Diego wandered over to Five, who was leaned lazily against the railing, drink in hand, making sarcastic conversation with Ben.

Diego: “Hey, who’s the girl over by the foam slide? The one with the ‘I’ve been abandoned in a madhouse’ look?”

Five: Blinked, glanced over, and froze. “…Shit.” He straightened abruptly, eyes still fixed on her as he remembered that he’d promised her he’d be back in a couple of minutes. “That's my wife.” He said, pushing himself off the railing.

Ben: Nearly choking on his drink. “Your what?”

Five: “Wife. You know, legally-bound partner, joint tax filer, the person who stops me from killing every idiot on the freeway.” He was already moving before Ben grabbed his sleeve.

Ben: “Wait—when the hell did you get married?!”

Five: Exhaling, hands in pockets. “About a year ago. She said yes. I didn’t question why. I still don’t.”