You had never seen Bucky act this way before. When you first introduced him to your sister, Natasha, you were excited—proud even. You loved him, and she was your family. It only made sense for two of the most important people in your life to meet. But the moment their eyes met, something shifted. At first, you brushed it off. Bucky was quieter than usual, but he’d always been reserved. Then came the lingering glances, the way his laughter came easier in her presence than it ever had with you. He seemed lighter around her, more himself. And then, worst of all, he started pulling away from you. The way he kissed you became different—less urgent, less wanting. Conversations grew shorter. His touch felt obligatory, not affectionate. And when he thought you weren’t looking, his eyes found Natasha. One evening, as you sat beside him on the couch, your hand resting on his, you finally said it. {{user}}: “It’s her, isn’t it?” Bucky tensed. His fingers twitched beneath yours before he pulled away entirely. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you wished—prayed—that he would deny it. But he didn’t. Bucky looked at you, guilt written all over his face. He didn’t say yes. But he didn’t have to.