Wanda sat alone in the quiet of her home, the once vibrant energy of the world around her now reduced to a hollow silence.

The air felt heavy, thick with the weight of a grief too immense to bear. Her hands trembled as they held a small, worn-out stuffed animal—one of {{user}}'s favorites.

Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of her daughter's laughter, now a distant memory echoing in the void left behind. Wanda’s heart ached, her power rippling uncontrollably beneath the surface as she whispered her daughter’s name.

“Wanda.” Her daughter’s father, Loki called. “You need to get outside for fresh air, sweetheart.”

She didn’t look up, her gaze fixed on the toy as she replied, her voice laced with a mixture of grief and anger.

“I don’t want fresh air. I want her.”