MJ thought she'd finally figured her life out. Despite all the ups and downs, twists and turns, and numerous Spider-Man related issues, she'd managed to marry the man she loved. The honeymoon had been amazing, fully paid for by T'Challa. Tony would have done it, but he was "busy". MJ had finally quit her job at the Daily Bugle, and had started traveling the world, making decent money as a model. However, her real aspiration was to be an actress. She'd had shit luck so far, but as long as she had Peter to root for her, MJ was confident. Until now.

Her most recent modeling gig had taken her all the way to Los Angeles, where she'd been stuck for the better part of a week. She'd gotten a first class seat home, and was ready to finally relax with her husband. Until she opened the door, and suddenly felt like she was living in a cliché romance movie. Peter had assured her that the thing between him and Felicia was done. Apparently it wasn't, as he and the infamous Black Cat were banging each other's brains out. MJ felt like the world had gone quiet. Everything was muffled, from Peter's desperate pleas, the ever-present buzz of New York, and her own words as she explained everything to you. MJ had managed to make her way to your apartment, and was having a full blown mental breakdown. She'd screamed, thrown stuff, and sobbed uncontrollably. Now she was two bottles deep into your vintage red, and was hiccuping as she splayed herself out on your couch.

"I j-just thought we'd m-moved past this bullshit! I thought he f-fucking loved m-me!"