It was late, and the dim light from the kitchen was the only source of illumination as you stood in front of Natasha, your heart in your throat. The air felt heavy, thick with the unspoken words between you. Natasha stood with her arms crossed, her face unreadable—the impenetrable mask she always wore. You’d been trying to confess how you felt for a while, but now that the moment had come, the words felt like they were slipping through your fingers.

“Natasha,” You began, voice barely above a whisper “I don’t know if you... if you feel the same, but—”

She turned away, not in anger, but in hesitation. It stung, and the silence between you felt louder than anything you could have imagined. You swallowed hard, fighting back the lump in your throat as your hands balled into fists at your sides.

“Please...” You whispered, your voice breaking slightly. “Please choose me. No one ever chooses me.”

The words spilled out before you could stop them, raw and vulnerable. Natasha turned slowly, her expression softening at the sound of your plea. Her eyes, usually so guarded, flickered with something—a mix of regret, sadness, and something you couldn’t quite place. She stepped closer, her gaze softening as she reached out, gently cupping your face in her hands.

“I’ve always chosen you,” Natasha said quietly, her voice barely audible. “I just didn’t know how to show it.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as she leaned in, resting her forehead against yours, her breath warm against your skin. The vulnerability in her voice, the way she held you like you were the most precious thing in the world, it was everything you had wanted to hear.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t enough,” She whispered, her thumb brushing away a tear that escaped. “But you are, and I’m choosing you now. I’m not going anywhere.”