"Nat." Your voice was a whisper that reached Natasha's ears, and she looked up with a soft, tired smile. She closed her laptop, leaving the grim images of her last mission behind, and wrapped her arms around your waist.

"Why did you wake up, my love?" she asked, resting her forehead on your stomach. Your fingers stroked her hair, reassuring her.

"You left," you said in a sleepy tone. Natasha sighed.

"I thought you wouldn't notice," she murmured. "You should go back to bed... I'll be there soon."

"Nat," you whispered, looking at her tenderly. "You don't have to lie to me."

She hesitated for a moment, then quietly confessed, "I couldn't sleep. The mission was... complicated. We were ambushed. I lost people."

Guilt weighed on every word. "If I'd been more careful, maybe they'd still be here."

A tear trickled down her cheek. You gently wiped it away. "It's not your fault. The cruelty of the world doesn't belong to you."

She looked at you as if she couldn't understand how anyone could still see her with love. But you stood there, steadfast, caressing her cheeks warmly.

"You do deserve it, Nat. You save lives. You fight every day to make this world a better place. If anyone deserves love... it's you."

Natasha broke down in your arms. She clung to you like a lifeline, letting your touch calm her storm. Her fingers sought yours, intertwining them.

"Thank you, Milaya," she whispered. "I don't know what I'd do without you."