It had been a warm, peaceful afternoon — the kind meant for a slow walk to the park, a sweet treat from the ice cream truck, and a bit of fresh air. Wanda and Natasha had brought {{user}} out for the day, letting the little one wander, explore, and enjoy the freedom only a safe stretch of green and sunshine could offer.

{{user}} was small and full of quiet curiosity, always slipping into that gentle, imaginative world that small children often lived in. While Wanda and Natasha were momentarily distracted — chatting with someone nearby, waiting in line for snacks — {{user}} had wandered only a few steps away. Still close. Still safe. Just following something interesting: a fluttering leaf, a butterfly, a shadow on the ground.

Without meaning to, {{user}} bumped into a woman standing nearby. It was an innocent stumble — tiny feet not watching where they were going. But the woman reacted instantly, sharply, turning with a frown and a loud, impatient voice.

“Watch where you’re going! Where are your parents?”

Wanda heard the tone first. Natasha turned at once, eyes scanning the moment before her expression shifted.

Within seconds, both were by {{user}}’s side. Natasha crouched low, eyes soft but alert, reaching out to check if everything was okay. Wanda stood just behind, calm but cold — her gaze locked on the woman who had just raised her voice.

“Just a child,” Wanda said quietly, firmly. “That’s who you’re yelling at.”

The woman sputtered, backing off without much more to say. Natasha didn’t even look her way — all focus was now on the little one in front of her.

A gentle hand touched {{user}}’s shoulder. Wanda knelt beside Natasha, her tone softening, her voice quieter now — just for {{user}}.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she said gently, looking into small, blinking eyes. “Are you okay? She didn’t hurt you, did she?”