Black Widow

EPILOGUE: The Last Thread

Jade's POV

Jesse got discharged on a Wednesday.

Hospitals were less dramatic in daylight — paperwork, stiff chairs, fluorescent lights trying too hard.

His mom hovered, handing him forms like they might attack him. Liz bounced on her heels, waving iced coffee like she was offering salvation as I lingered by the vending machine, pretending to care about the nutritional value of chips. Really, I was just giving everyone something to do with their hands.

When we finally stepped outside, the sun hit us like it didn't know how to apologize. Jesse squinted at it, looking like someone who'd been born underground and was seeing daylight for the first time.

"You look like you just lost a fight with a lamp," I said.

"Better than losing a fight with kitchen knives," he muttered.

Liz groaned. "Too soon."

"Sorry," Jesse said, wincing. "I don't do timing very well."

There was no dramatic goodbye. No slow-motion moment. His mom buckled him into the car with the gentleness of someone who had nearly lost too much, too fast. He didn't fight it. Just looked out the window at me. "You'll come by?"

"Yeah," I shrugged. "If you don't bleed on the floor again."

Jesse cracked a small grin. "No more blades. I'm retired."

"Good, good," I said. "Try something safe. Like knitting."

"Knitting does sound quite nice."

"Yeah." I repressed a smirk. "Suits you perfectly."

Jesse grinned and his mom drove off carefully, as if she was carrying the most fragile and valuable possession she'd ever owned. One that she already dropped and cracked once.

***

The weeks blurred and graduation came fast, like the world didn't care that we were still catching our breath.

My cap felt stupid in my hands. I stared at the mirror longer than I meant to.

I didn't look elegant or transformed, just older. Tired, maybe... more honest.

Liz stood next to me, smoothing her gown, and Victoria stood next to her, not clinging, not sulking, just being calm in her own unpracticed way. Liz's parents showed up, tension ready to spike—except it didn't. They took pictures. Victoria fixed Liz's cap discreetly... progress. It reminded me healing wasn't loud. It was consistency.

"Cross."

I turned.

Jesse stood a few steps away, leaning slightly but undeniably upright. His eyes flicked to my cap. "You trying to graduate from an alternate dimension?"

"Better job market," I told him.

"Your tassel is on the wrong side," he said and I rolled my eyes.

Then, without asking, he fixed it. He switched it gently, like it mattered. "At least pretend you earned it in this dimension." His hand dropped away, and for a moment the absence of pressure felt like permission rather than loss.

Strange how steady that felt.

We were herded into the gym in a slow, restless wave of blue gowns. Rows of chairs waited like they'd been set up by someone who had never actually sat in a chair before. I found a spot in the middle, dropped my program on the empty seat beside me, and claimed it the way birds claim power lines—quietly, without negotiation.