Chapter 3

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Natashas POV

Steve was in the bath and I was searching in my bag for an outfit.
I found Steves jacket again and this time I really will return it. I dressed me up and grabbed my phone. I decided to call Bruce.

B: Hello? Natasha is that you?

N: Yeah, morning, how are you doing?

B: Natasha,I have to tell you somenthing. It's..

I interrupted him
N: Is something wrong? What happend?

B: Nothing, its I thought the last days about it and I even couldn't sleep. Its not your fault you did nothing but it doesn't work between us, its... over.

N: No, Bruce everything was alright!

B: "You think so but we are so different you don't understand my opinions and what I do in the lab. Its over Nat." He hang up.

I was speechless, dejectedly, whitout any motivation.
I just could think about the words Its over they are letting my heart break in thousand pieces it was such a pain like a dagger in my heart. He was the only person I had, I could lean on. A tear rolled out my eye followed by many more. I throwed me on the couch and cried in a pillow. An instant later I could feel somebody was sat down next to me, Steve.

S: "What happend to make you cry?" He glared at me with his soft blue eyes and with his kinda clumsy smile.

N: Bruce..... he broke up, per telephone the badest metod to break up.

S: That is terrible, I'm really, really not an expert but don't glue on this it just will ruin you mentally.

N: You're right I will try it so good as I can. Theme change, I'll make breakfast, some eggs with bacon? Or sandwiches?

S: Sandwiches please, we have to hurry.

I went to the kitchen and grabed some slices of white bread  and took butter, salad, tomatoes and cheese from the fridge. I was putting the cutted tomatoes on the bread when Steve came in. He grabed two glasses and poured orange juice. We ate our breakfast and I put the plates in the sink. I went to my room and took his jacket.

N: Steve your Jacket you gave it to me 2 years ago. Do you remember? 

S: Yeah, glassclear. Thank you,  now let's go for inspection.

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