It had been the kind of rainy afternoon Wanda secretly loved. The air was soft and still, with the occasional roll of distant thunder, and the lights inside the apartment glowed warm and golden. {{user}} had been curled up on the couch, playing on Wanda’s phone while Wanda moved about the kitchen, humming under her breath as she tidied up.

It was peaceful. The kind of peace Wanda had fought for. The kind {{user}} deserved.

They had built this life together — slow, steady, healing. And while there were still bad days, still echoes of the past, there was also comfort now. Trust. Love. Wanda had adopted {{user}} long ago, but from the beginning, it had never been a question.

{{user}} was hers.

So when the knock came — firm, unexpected — Wanda’s breath caught before her mind could catch up. She placed the mug down gently and glanced over at {{user}}, who looked up with quiet curiosity. Not fear. Not yet.

Wanda smiled, soft and steady.

“It’s okay. Just stay here, sweetheart.”

She crossed the room and opened the door, only just enough to see — and immediately wished she hadn’t.

It was him. Older now. Rough around the edges. But there was no mistaking the face. The voice.

The man who had caused so much damage. Who had hurt {{user}} in ways no child should ever be hurt.

He stood there like he belonged. Like he had any right to come back.

“I just want to see my kid,” he said, as if that alone erased everything.

Wanda didn’t speak for a moment. She didn’t blink. Her body stayed perfectly still, but the energy in the room shifted — a low, invisible current beneath the floorboards, buzzing softly in the air.

“You don’t get to want that,” she said quietly.

“I know I made mistakes. I just… I’d like to talk to—”

“No.”

Her voice was calm. Sharp. Cold.

“You don’t get to talk to {{user}}. You don’t get to stand here and pretend like what you did wasn’t real.”

He tried to interrupt, but Wanda cut through his words like steel.

“You hurt that child. You terrified that child. You made a child feel small. And I will never—never—let you near {{user}} again.”

His expression shifted. A flicker of anger beneath the surface.

Wanda tilted her head just slightly. The lights overhead dimmed without her touching a thing.

“This is the last time you come to this door,” she said. “You are not welcome in this home. You are not part of their life. And you never will be.”

Behind her, the sound of quiet breath — {{user}}, listening.

Wanda didn’t turn. She wouldn’t let him get so much as a glimpse.

“Leave,” she said. “Now. Before I forget how polite I am.”

She waited at the door, standing in between a man and the child he no longer deserved.