The Quinjet’s engines finally powered down. The silence lingered even after landing. No one moved at first. Then Natasha stood. “We’re here,” she said simply. No explanation. No elaboration. Typical. — The house sat alone, surrounded by endless trees. No neighboring lights. No roads close enough to be seen. Just isolation. Safety. Natasha stepped up to the door and opened it without hesitation. “I’m home.” Footsteps approached almost immediately. Ophelia appeared from the hallway. She had clearly been waiting. She wore one of Natasha’s black shirts — oversized on her smaller frame, the fabric hanging loosely and exposing just a hint of her midriff when she moved. The collar dipped slightly to one side, unmistakably not hers originally. A simple necklace rested against her collarbone. Her dark hair fell freely, slightly messy, like she hadn’t bothered fixing it since waking up. Natasha froze. Not visibly. Not to anyone else. But Ophelia saw it. The micro-tension in her shoulders. The exhaustion in her eyes. Relief softened Ophelia’s expression. She crossed the room quickly. Natasha met her halfway. Their arms wrapped around each other instinctively — tight, grounding, necessary. Natasha buried her face briefly in Ophelia’s shoulder, exhaling. She never did that. Not in front of anyone. They pulled back slightly, just enough to look at each other. “You’re okay,” Ophelia whispered. Natasha nodded once. “I am now.” They kissed — soft, familiar, real. Behind them, the Avengers stood frozen. Tony blinked. Steve looked completely blindsided. Bruce awkwardly adjusted his glasses. Thor tilted his head in curiosity. Tony leaned slightly toward Steve. “…You knew about this?” Steve shook his head slowly. “No.” Natasha turned, her hand naturally sliding into Ophelia’s. “This is Ophelia,” she said. Ophelia gave them a small, calm smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” A dog suddenly came running into the room, tail wagging wildly before stopping at Natasha’s side. She crouched immediately, petting him without hesitation. A cat jumped onto the armrest. Another brushed against Ophelia’s leg. The house was warm. Lived in. Real. Tony looked around, then back at Natasha. “You have a secret wife, secret house, secret pets,” he said. “Anything else we should know? Secret island? Secret moon base?” Natasha didn’t react.