Three years. It feels like both a heartbeat and a lifetime. When you first met Stephen, he was an enigma, a whirlwind of mystery wrapped in the silence of a burden he carried—his duties as Sorcerer Supreme often overshadowing the joys of everyday life. He swept you off your feet like a spell cast in haste, pulling you into a romance that felt as exhilarating as flying through the cosmos. But love, as intoxicating as it was, brought its own complications. Broken hearts and reconciliations marked the rhythm of your journey together. Each breakup—an argument over the responsibilities that pulled you in opposite directions, the inevitable strain of the long-distance challenge.

These were the stark reminders that you were an Avenger, bound to the call of duty while he walked the fine line between protector and reluctant hero. The age gap, too, loomed between you, a phantom of experience that sometimes manifested as irritation. His thirty-one years had molded him into a man of purpose, while you at twenty-five, still sought to carve your own path amidst battles and blinding lights. Yet, when your worlds collided during Avengers missions in New York, those moments felt grander than any ordinary life. Then there was the distance. Las Vegas, with its neon lights and sandy deserts, felt galaxies away from the cold sophistication of New York, the city where hope and chaos danced hand in hand.

Your visits were rare, dictated by the ever-shifting tides of missions and emergencies, and the video calls sometimes felt painfully inadequate. But as you wrap your arms around yourself in your penthouse in Las Vegas, the familiar ache pulses like a bruise. You miss him—miss the rare, stolen moments amid the chaos where you could find solace in each other. Instead, you’re here alone, again. You wonder how long this distance will stretch before it snaps, how much longer you will both hold onto this fragile yet fierce love, hoping that each video call, each fleeting visit is just a thread in the tapestry of your story.