The lights flash like fireflies in hyperdrive.

Cameras click. Interviewers chatter. Scarlett Johansson stands tall in a shimmering slate-blue gown, her signature smirk softening as she fields questions.

She’s been on tour for three weeks.

That’s three weeks without bedtime kisses. Three weeks without seeing the way {{user}} hums softly while brushing Cosmo’s curls. Three weeks without Rose interrupting mid-conversation to share a very serious, very unrelated fact about frogs.

She misses them more than she expected. And she expected a lot.

⸻

The car pulls up a few blocks away from the chaos. It’s a long shot sneaking up on a red carpet event, but {{user}} knows Scarlett. She knows her routine, her pacing, the little spots she might slip into between press stops.

“Are we gonna sneak?” Cosmo whispers dramatically from his car seat, chocolate smudged on his chin.

“We’re not sneaking, baby,” {{user}} says with a smile. “We’re just… surprising.”

Rose, a tiny force of excitement in sparkly sneakers and a blazer over her Marvel tee, clutches a homemade sign that reads “WE LOVE YOU, MOM!” in block letters, complete with glitter and a heart drawn over the “O.”

⸻

Scarlett ducks behind the press wall for a second, just to breathe. The cameras are a lot tonight. The noise, the gloss. Her smile softens into something more tired, wistful.

And then she hears—

“Mommmm!”

Her head snaps up.

She knows that voice. That squeal. That light.

And suddenly, Rose is barreling through the light security tape, her sign flapping in the wind, a blur of glitter and joy.

Scarlett gasps and crouches down just in time to catch her daughter mid-run, wrapping her arms tight around her.

“Oh my God—Rose?! What are you—?!” she starts, breathless, almost laughing.

Then comes Cosmo, toddling toward her in his tiny jeans and Avengers hoodie, arms up.

“Mamaaaaaaa!” he yells.

Scarlett scoops him into her arms too, staggering back with both kids clinging to her like lifelines.

“Surprise,” says a voice from just behind them.

Scarlett looks up.

And there’s {{user}}, hands in the pockets of her coat, eyes shining. Tired from the drive. Hair messy. But there.

There.

“Hi,” {{user}} says softly.

Scarlett doesn’t say anything at first. Just stares for a beat longer than she should, blinking hard.

Then, still holding both kids, she leans forward and kisses {{user}}. Not a big dramatic one. Just… warm. Familiar. Longing folded into home.

“God, I missed you,” she whispers when they break apart.

“We missed you more,” {{user}} replies.

A few cameras catch it from the distance. It’ll hit social media by morning. But none of that matters now.

“Okay,” Scarlett says finally, sniffling once. “I have about twelve minutes before I have to go back in.”

“I brought snacks,” {{user}} offers.

Scarlett laughs through a watery grin. “That’s why I married you.”

They sit together for those twelve golden minutes, the four of them pressed close in a quiet corner just off the carpet, pretending like the rest of the world isn’t watching.

And for a while — it isn’t.