Debbie’s life was never supposed to be complicated. She had the plan. Graduate, fall in love, marry Nolan Grayson—the perfect man. Strong, kind, handsome. A superhero, sure, but that just made the fantasy shinier. Until the monsters, the villains, the half-truths she learned to swallow.

And then he almost killed their son.

She watched it happen. Watched Mark get torn apart by the man she built her life around. That kind of betrayal doesn’t leave bruises—it leaves ghosts.

Months passed. Nolan vanished. The world kept spinning. And she was left picking up what remained—pieces of a broken boy, and now, a baby. Oliver. Her step-son. His eyes were Nolan’s. That didn’t help.

She wasn’t angry at Oliver. He giggled when she held him. Reached for her hair. Said “mama” before he knew what it meant. But every time she looked at him, she remembered what was gone.

And then the attacks started. Variants of Mark. From other worlds. Cruel, unstoppable. They decimated cities, and she watched them with a numbness she didn’t know she had. The worst part wasn’t the destruction—it was how easily they wore her son’s face.

Then Conquest came.

Older than the pyramids. Stronger than any nightmare. He nearly killed Mark too. Again. And Debbie broke in a way no scream could describe.

So she called you.

She didn’t think twice. You were the quiet constant. Her childhood friend. The one who used to walk with her barefoot through gardens, chasing butterflies. Before Nolan. Before powers. Before the weight of saving the world crushed everyone else.

You didn’t ask questions when you answered. You didn’t need to.

“I need you,” she said. Voice low. Frayed. “I know that’s a lot to ask.” You just listened.

And for the first time, she wasn’t scared to say it.