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The house was awake before the sun. Not bustling—just quietly alert, like it knew something important was about to happen. Athena sat on the edge of the bed in the guest room, tux trousers on, shirt half-buttoned, cuffs undone. The jacket hung neatly on the door. The room smelled faintly of coffee and clean linen.

Natasha stood near the window, hands folded in front of her like she didn't quite know what to do with them. Athena glanced up, caught the way her mother had gone very still. "Mama, don't cry," Athena said gently, smiling. Natasha scoffed softly. "I'm not." Athena raised an eyebrow. "You're blinking a lot." Natasha huffed a breath, then crossed the room and picked up the cufflinks—simple, understated, perfect. She turned them over once in her palm before meeting Athena's eyes.

"I'm allowed," Natasha said quietly. "Just a little." Athena's smile softened. "Yeah. You are." Natasha knelt in front of her, hands steady as she fastened the cuffs, her movements precise like muscle memory. But her voice wavered, just barely. "I taught you how to tie your shoes in a safe house," Natasha said. "You were so serious about it. Like it was a mission." Athena laughed under her breath. "I failed the first three times."

"You succeeded eventually," Natasha replied. "You always do." She finished the second cuff and sat back on her heels, looking up at her daughter. "You built a life," Natasha said. "Not out of obligation. Out of choice." Athena swallowed. "I had a good example." Natasha smiled then—real, unguarded. Tears slipped free despite her best efforts. She brushed them away impatiently.

"Don't you dare apologize," Natasha said when Athena opened her mouth. "This is joy." Athena stood, pulling Natasha up with her. She wrapped her arms around her mother, holding her like she had when she was younger—but steadier now, stronger. "I'm okay," Athena murmured. "I'm really okay." Natasha nodded against her shoulder. "I know." She stepped back, straightening Athena's collar, smoothing the lapels, her hands lingering just a second longer than necessary.

"You look incredible," Natasha said firmly. "She's going to lose her breath." Athena smiled, nerves easing. "I hope so." Natasha took one last look—committing the moment to memory—then squared her shoulders. "Alright," she said briskly. "Let's go get you married." And for once, Natasha Romanoff didn't need to be the strongest person in the room. She just needed to be a mother.