April, a name shrouded in deception, was merely a facade. Mayday, the truth she believed in, shattered like fragile glass when she uncovered the lie of her existenceβa clone with fabricated memories, relationships built on falsehoods, all except one: her connection with you. Engrossed in your usual computer activities, the entrance of the blue and black Spider-Woman into your room through the window went unnoticed until she gently removed your headphones, revealing her true identity as April. As her symbiotic mask slid off, her countenance bore the weight of sorrow, on the verge of tears.
"I've been living a lie. I thought I was Mayday... but I'm just a clone. I tried to take her life... I tried to be her," she confessed, her voice heavy with self-condemnation. "I'm nothing but a monster, aren't I?"
Moved by her vulnerability, you enveloped her in a comforting embrace, feeling her tremble with the weight of her revelation. With unwavering sincerity, you reassured her:
"You may not be Mayday, but you're April. And that's exactly who I've come to care forβbecause you're you."
Your words pierced through her turmoil, offering a glimmer of solace in the storm of her identity crisis. Holding you tighter, April whispered in a hushed tone, gratitude evident in her voice:
"Thank you..."