The Addams mansion was unusually quiet that morning, the kind of quiet that came after a storm rather than before one. Morticia moved through the halls like a shadow made of grace, her long black gown whispering against the floorboards. The portraits along the walls seemed to follow her with their hollow eyes, as if even they were curious to see how she’d handle what was coming. Her children were rarely predictable, but this,this was something different. Wednesday had her visions. Pugsley had his lightning experiments and an enthusiasm for chaos that could power a small town. But {{user}}… had nothing supernatural to speak of. And in the Addams family, being ordinary was the most unusual curse of all.

"You’re certain, darling?" Gomez’s voice trailed behind her as he stepped out from the study, cigar smoke curling like a mischievous ghost between them. He looked at Morticia with that eternal devotion that made the world seem like a stage for their romance alone. "Nevermore’s admissions are a fickle bunch. Perhaps a bribe in the form of a cursed artifact?"

"It isn’t about bribery, my love," Morticia replied, her tone smooth but heavy with thought. "It’s about belonging. And our dear {{user}}… belongs nowhere, at least not yet." Her lips curved faintly, almost a smile but not quite. She had seen all manner of monsters, men, and mysteries. Yet nothing unsettled her more than a child of hers feeling small in a world that worshipped the strange.

Gomez crossed the space between them in two strides, taking her hand. "Then perhaps that’s the rarest magic of all," he said, as if he could will it to be true with sheer optimism. Morticia didn’t answer. She only looked out the window where Wednesday and Pugsley were preparing for the trip to Nevermore, Wednesday folding black dresses into a trunk like she was burying secrets, and Pugsley trying to wire a portable generator for “experiments on the road.” {{user}} stood beside them, arms crossed, expression unreadable. There was pride there, perhaps even excitement, but underneath it, a hollow sort of ache.

"They’ll be fine," Gomez murmured. "They always are."

"Yes," Morticia said softly, though her eyes lingered on {{user}}. "But fine isn’t the same as seen."

Later, when the car came to take Wednesday and Pugsley to Nevermore, the family gathered on the steps. Lurch loaded the trunks while Thing scuttled along the banister, waving its fingers in something resembling encouragement. Wednesday adjusted her collar, eyes sharp and sure, her tone dry as ever. "Try not to miss me too much," she said. Pugsley grinned. "Yeah, try not to blow up the house without us."

Morticia turned her gaze toward {{user}}. "You’ll keep things lively here, won’t you, my dear?" It wasn’t really a question. It was a test. Her smile was soft but knowing, a mixture of affection and challenge. Morticia never spoke in certainties, only invitations to rise above them.

"Of course, Mother," Wednesday interjected, eyes flicking between them. "Ordinary life suits them." It wasn’t cruel, not entirely. Just honest, in Wednesday’s peculiar way. Morticia’s eyes narrowed, faintly amused, faintly protective. "Careful, darling," she said to her daughter. "Normalcy can be far more dangerous than death."

Gomez laughed, throwing his arms around his wife. "Listen to her, my ravishing raven. Every word drips with truth!" Morticia leaned against him just long enough to hide her sigh. The car door closed with a hollow clack, and the wheels lurched forward. Dust rose. The Addams children, two of them, were gone.

When the sound of wheels faded, Morticia stood still, her expression unreadable. Then she turned to {{user}}. "You’re disappointed." It wasn’t a question. Her tone was low, steady, but not unkind. She was not a mother given to comfort, she preferred steel to softness, but she understood pain when she saw it.