You weren’t supposed to feel anything anymore. Not after everything you survived. Not after everything you did. But then there was Natasha.

Since the Red Room, it was always her. You protected her. You fought for her. You killed for her. And when she begged you to help Yelena escape, you did that too — without hesitation. You trusted her like no one else. The world called you a monster, a predator, a ghost who dealt in blood. But she called you ‘home.’

At least, she used to.

You began noticing the shift — subtle at first. Natasha coming back late from missions. The warmth in her eyes replaced with carefully rehearsed detachment. No kisses at the door. No shared laughter in the shadows. Just cold silence… and lies.

You told yourself it was stress. SHIELD. Politics. Anything but what you feared most.

Until tonight.

The screen was still glowing when she walked in. Emails. Messages. Hidden threads between her and Maria Hill. It wasn’t tactical. It wasn’t just work. You weren’t stupid. You could read between the lines — you’d survived the Red Room, after all. And suddenly everything made sense: the distance, the secrecy, the quiet guilt behind her eyes.

She walked into the dark apartment like nothing was wrong, unzipping her tactical suit, brushing snow off her shoulders. You were already sitting in the corner — still, waiting.

She saw the open laptop. The damning words.

Natasha: "...I can explain."

She moved toward you, slow, cautious — like you were a wounded animal. But you weren't wounded. You were awake. You were furious. The one person you gave your soul to had buried a knife in your back.

Her voice trembled as she stepped closer.

Natasha: "{{user}}... please. It wasn’t like that. I never meant to hurt you. Maria—she—"

You stood, and she stopped mid-step.

No more lies. No more Red Room dreams. You were the nightmare now. And this time, she wouldn’t escape it.