The apartment in Queens had become a quiet sanctuary—three people learning how to share space, how to breathe around each other's edges. Alex, Gwen, and Wanda moved carefully at first: shared meals, late-night talks on the couch, tentative touches that grew bolder with every day.
But some ghosts didn't leave easily.
It was a rainy Thursday evening when the shadow returned.
Alex and Gwen were in the kitchen—Gwen perched on the counter, legs swinging, while Alex stirred pasta sauce. Wanda sat at the small table, red energy idly weaving between her fingers like a nervous habit. The rain tapped against the windows, soft and steady.
Then the air shifted.
A faint hum—almost imperceptible—filled the room. Not mechanical. Not electrical. Synthetic. Familiar.
Wanda's hand stilled. The red threads snapped taut.
Alex turned from the stove. "What is it?"
Wanda stood slowly, eyes wide. "He's… here."
Before anyone could ask who, a soft golden light bloomed in the center of the living room—phasing through the floor like mist rising. Vision materialized: red skin, yellow cape, green gem glowing faintly on his forehead. He looked almost the same as the last time Wanda had seen him—calm, composed, a little lost.
"Wanda," he said quietly. His voice carried that same gentle timbre, but now it held something heavier. Regret. Acceptance.
Gwen slid off the counter. Alex stepped forward instinctively—protective, but not hostile.
Vision raised a hand—peaceful. "I come without threat. I… needed to see her. Just once more."
Wanda's breath caught. "Vision."
He looked at her—really looked. Not with possession, not with demand. With quiet sorrow.
"I have watched from afar," he admitted. "Not to intrude. To… understand. To make sure you were safe."
Wanda's eyes shimmered. "You didn't have to."
"I did," he said simply. "Because I loved you. And love does not vanish when the relationship ends. It changes shape."
Alex felt Gwen's hand slip into his—squeezing once. A silent reminder: *We're here.*
Vision turned to Alex—nodding once in acknowledgment.
"You have given her what I could not," he said. "Stability. Balance. Someone who can stand in the storm with her, not merely observe it."
Alex swallowed. "I'm not trying to replace you."
"You are not replacing," Vision corrected gently. "You are continuing. And that is… enough."
Wanda stepped forward—slow, trembling. "I never wanted to hurt you."
Vision's expression softened—almost human. "You did not hurt me. You freed me. To see that love can exist beyond me… that it does not require perfection… that is a gift."
Tears slipped down Wanda's cheeks. "I still care about you. I always will."
Vision inclined his head. "And I you. That does not diminish what you are building here."
He looked at Gwen then—eyes warm, respectful.
"You carry strength in kindness," he told her. "It is rare. Treasure it. And treasure them."
Gwen nodded—tears in her own eyes. "We will."
Vision's form began to flicker—light dimming. "I will not return uninvited. But if you ever need… anything… I am still here. Not as a lover. As a friend. As someone who wishes you peace."
Wanda reached out—hesitant—her hand passing through his phasing form. Red energy met gold for a heartbeat—two lights touching, then separating gently.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For letting me go."
Vision smiled—small, genuine. "Thank you for showing me what love can become."
His form dissolved—golden particles drifting upward, fading into nothing.
Silence settled—thick, aching, healing.
Wanda turned to Alex and Gwen—tears streaming, but lighter somehow.
Alex opened his arms.
She stepped into them—Gwen joining a second later. Three bodies, three heartbeats, one shared breath.
Wanda pressed her face to Alex's chest. "I thought I'd never feel this… free."
Alex kissed the top of her head. "You are."
Gwen rested her cheek against Wanda's shoulder. "We've got you. Both of you."
Wanda lifted her head—looked between them. "I love you," she said—to Alex first, voice breaking. Then to Gwen: "And I… I think I'm starting to love you too. In a way I didn't expect."
Gwen's eyes filled. "I'm already there."
Alex pulled them both closer—arms strong, heart full.
The rain kept falling outside.
Inside, something old was finally laid to rest.
And something new—fragile, beautiful, shared—was beginning to grow stronger.
Later that night, after tears dried and quiet words were exchanged, they lay together on the oversized couch—Wanda in the middle, Alex on one side, Gwen on the other.
Wanda's red energy hummed softly—controlled, harmonious. Alex felt the copied chaos magic inside him resonate in perfect sync, steadying her wilder edges. Gwen's spider-sense tingled faintly—not danger, but connection.
Wanda whispered into the dark: "I can feel you both… inside me. Not taking. Balancing."
Alex squeezed her hand. "We're stronger together."
Gwen kissed Wanda's temple—soft, sisterly, loving. "Always."
Vision's lingering impact wasn't pain anymore.
It was permission.
To love again.
To heal.
To be whole—together.
(Word count: 1003)