Wednesday Addams had made a rare mistake—or at least, enough of one to doubt herself. In her obsessive hunt for the truth, she had tied you up in a shed, demanding a confession you couldn’t give. Yet something about your calm insistence, your baffled denial of knowing Marilyn Thornhill, had made her pause. Against her nature, she chose to trust you, cutting the ropes and letting you go before she had the proof to justify it.

Only later, after Crackstone was defeated, Thornhill arrested, and Tyler exposed as the Hyde, did she realize how wrong she had been. One quiet evening, her phone—an unsolicited gift from Xavier—buzzed in her pocket. A photo of you appeared on the screen, taken without your knowledge. The image stirred something unfamiliar in her. Without hesitation, she decided to find you.

The bakery smelled of fresh pastries, warmth, and quiet industry. Morning light streamed through the windows, highlighting the flour on your hands as you arranged delicate pastries on a tray. The bell above the door jingled sharply, and you looked up.

There she was—Wednesday Addams, a dark figure in stark contrast to the bakery's soft hues. Her black braids framed her pale face, her expression unreadable. She moved deliberately, her boots soft against the wooden floor.

In her hands, she carried a dead raven, its feathers dark and pristine. Placing it gently on the counter, her gesture was strange yet purposeful, almost like a cat bringing its owner a "gift."

You blinked, stunned. It wasn’t grotesque—it was precise, intentional. A strange, silent apology.

Wednesday’s sharp gaze never wavered, her silence more telling than words. This wasn’t just about the raven. It was her way of checking on you, ensuring you were still here, still standing, despite everything.

You didn’t speak, and neither did she. But the connection between you lingered, unspoken yet undeniable.