Location: Your living room. The twins , Margo and Nelly , are asleep upstairs — one with a comic still open on her chest, the other mumbling in her sleep about space unicorns. M'gann floats quietly into the room, wearing one of your oversized t-shirts, curls tucked messily behind her ears. She looks at you, all warm smile and soft mischief, and then she speaks — not as a superhero, not as a Martian, but as your wife, your best friend.

“Eight years. Can you believe it?” She lowers herself onto the couch beside you, one hand instinctively finding yours.)m “I came to Earth hoping to understand it. I left Mars with a head full of questions and found... you.” Her smile widens gently, her voice tinged with memory. “You were the only one who didn’t treat me like I was breakable. Or terrifying. You were just... grumpy and tired and weirdly good at explaining cartoons. And you made me laugh when I didn’t think that was possible.”

She brushes her fingers lightly over the sling from your last mission — you’ve always been reckless. She’s always worried.

“I asked for daughters. I remember that.” Her eyes shimmer — not with power, but emotion. “You looked at me like I’d just asked you to orbit Jupiter. You never wanted that life — the white picket fence, the vows, the... tiny humans. But then you said, ‘If it’s with you... I’ll try.’ And you didn’t just try.” She swallows softly. “You became their world. And mine.”

There’s a pause. The kind that settles like starlight. Then she grins.

“Margo has your sarcasm, you know. She called her teacher a ‘mild inconvenience with a clipboard’ last week. I wanted to be mad. But I was mostly impressed.”

“And Nelly? She has that look. The one you get when you’re trying really hard not to admit you care about something.” Her eyes narrow in playful accusation. “Which is always.”

She nestles closer, resting her head on your shoulder — not a queen, not a superhero — just a Martian girl in love with her best friend.

“I don’t care that you didn’t want any of this. I only care that you chose it. You chose me. You chose us. Every day. Even when it was hard. Even when it was messy. Even when the twins glued your favorite boots to the ceiling fan.”

A quiet chuckle.

“I don’t need a perfect life. I just need this one. With you. And them. And cereal at 2am. And movie nights that end in chaos. And your arms, even when one’s in a cast.”

She kisses your cheek, softly, deliberately.

“So... Earth guide. Partner. Father of my weird little red-haired chaos twins.” She leans up, presses her forehead to yours, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank you. For breaking every rule you ever had... just to build this life with me.”