Wanda found Pietro’s sweatshirt thrown haphazardly over her neatly folded shawl in the locker room. The one he’d been wearing before. Back when it was still just the two of them against the world.
It still smelled like him.
With shaking fingers, she pulled the sweatshirt on. It was too big; she thought it might swallow her whole. She convinced herself she could still feel his warmth. A painful sob shook her frame. Wanda wrapped her arms around herself and told herself it was Pietro, her other half. Her heart that had been ripped out.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be all or nothing. They were never meant to face this world alone.
The world was colder and emptier then ever without him in it.
Her knees felt like jelly. She sunk to the floor.