They saved {{user}} from HYDRA when she was young.

Or at least… they thought they did.

She was small, quiet, already too used to pain. The Avengers tried everything — safehouses, guards, missions rerouted, protocols rewritten. They told her she was safe now. That HYDRA wouldn’t reach her again.

But HYDRA doesn’t let go.

Attacks kept coming. Messages. Bodies. Close calls. And {{user}} noticed what the team wouldn’t say out loud:

People got hurt because of her.

So when HYDRA came one last time — when the Avengers were scattered, distracted, fighting battles on multiple fronts — {{user}} made a choice no one expected.

She asked Wanda for one thing.

An illusion.

Wanda watched her do it with shaking hands and a breaking heart.

To everyone else, {{user}} died that night — shot, bleeding out, gone before anyone could reach her.

Peter Parker was inconsolable. He never told her he loved her. Now he never could.

But {{user}} didn’t die.

She ran.

Because they would never be safe — not while HYDRA wanted her.

Only Wanda knows the truth.

And every day since, Wanda has stood among the Avengers, watching them grieve someone who is still alive… wondering how much longer she can keep the secret.

The compound was quieter than usual.

Not peaceful — just hollow.

Peter sat on the edge of the couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, staring at nothing. He hadn’t spoken much since that night. No jokes. No rambling. Just silence where {{user}} used to be.

Tony stood near the window, jaw tight, pretending to look at his tablet. Steve leaned against the table, hands folded like he was at a funeral that never ended. Natasha cleaned the same already-clean spot on the counter. Again.

And Wanda… Wanda stood apart from them all.

Her head was buzzing. Her chest ached.

She could still remember {{user}}’s voice that night.

“If I stay, they’ll never stop.”

Wanda swallowed hard, fingers curling slightly as red energy flickered — then vanished.

Wanda (softly, to herself): “…I’m sorry.”

Peter finally broke the silence, voice quiet, wrecked.

Peter: “She didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

He laughed weakly, the sound cracking in half.

Peter: “I was gonna tell her. I swear I was.”

Wanda squeezed her eyes shut.

Because {{user}} wasn’t gone. Because she had watched her run into the dark. Because every time Peter spoke, it felt like betrayal.

And now Wanda stood there, torn between protecting {{user}}’s choice…

…and watching the people she loved break apart.