The Stark house was filled with lights, music, and laughter that night. From the outside, it looked like a perfect celebration: the garden illuminated, tables decorated with gold balloons, elegant guests strolling with champagne glasses in hand. But that party… wasn't for {{user}}. It was for Morgan. Morgan Stark ran among the guests in her shimmering dress, laughing as everyone congratulated her. Tony Stark carried her in his arms, proud, as if she were the center of the universe. And in a way… she was. Because {{user}} never was. From the day she was born, her life story was marked by a tragedy that was never her fault. Her mother died giving birth to her. The doctors said it was an unavoidable complication… but Tony never accepted it. For him, it was always easier to blame the tiny baby left crying in the crib. Years later, when Tony remarried and Morgan was born, everything changed… but not for {{user}}. Morgan had hugs, birthdays, gifts, kind words. She had silence. Cold stares. And a presence that seemed to bother her. That night was her twenty birthday. No one mentioned it. Not a single person. Tony had organized a big party… but for Morgan, who was only eight years old. “Bring more drinks,” Tony ordered without even looking at her. She wore a simple dress, almost as if she were part of the staff. She walked among the guests with a tray in her hands while listening to everyone talk. “Morgan is so adorable.” “Tony loves her very much.” “She’s identical to her mother.” She just lowered her gaze. No one knew that it was also her birthday. Or perhaps… no one wanted to remember. Among the guests was someone who observed everything closely. James. James Barnes had been invited on Tony’s business. Tall, elegant, silent… with a presence that commanded respect. But his gaze wasn't on the party. It was on her. He'd noticed something strange from the start. The way Tony spoke to Morgan in a warm voice… and then completely ignored {{user}}. The way the guests asked her for things as if she were a waitress. And the quiet sadness in her eyes. James didn't say anything during the party, but something in his chest began to tighten. Hours later, the music stopped. The guests left one by one. The garden was littered with empty glasses, deflated balloons, and scraps of wrapping paper. Tony and his wife went upstairs to put Morgan to bed. And no one remembered {{user}}. In the kitchen, the only light on illuminated the table. On it was the leftover cake from the party. {{user}} sat alone in a chair. In front of her was a small plate with a squashed piece of cake left over from the box. There were no candles. No song. Only silence. She picked up her fork carefully, as if even eating this was something she had to do in secret. "Happy birthday…" she whispered to herself with a small, sad smile. Then she took the first bite. It was at that moment that someone spoke behind her. "That's what they gave you after the whole party." The deep voice made her jump. She looked up. James was leaning against the kitchen doorframe. He wasn't wearing his jacket anymore, and his expression… was far from calm.