Doll. // Bucky Barnes X OC

FORTY NINE

The morning doesn't feel real.

It should.

Everything about it is concrete—the soft rustle of fabric, the quiet hum of voices down the hall, the light slipping through the curtains in warm, steady lines.

But Melany feels like she's standing just slightly outside of it.

Watching.

Breathing carefully, like if she inhales too deeply, the moment might scatter.

Her dress hangs near the window.

Still.

Waiting.

She stares at it for a long time.

That same tight feeling settles in her chest—the one she felt the first time she saw herself in it.

Only now—

It's deeper.

He's at the end of this.

The thought lands fully. Not abstract. Not distant.

Real.

A soft knock at the door.

"Come in," she calls, her voice quieter than she expects.

The door opens slowly.

Wanda steps in first. Then Natasha.

And for a second—

No one says anything.

They just look at her.

Melany shifts slightly under the weight of it.

"...what?"

Wanda's hand lifts to her mouth.

Her eyes are already glassy.

"Oh no," Melany breathes. "Don't—don't start."

"I'm not starting," Wanda insists immediately.

Her voice breaks.

Nat exhales slowly, crossing her arms.

"She's been holding that in for an hour."

"I have not—"

"You cried over the flowers."

"They were beautiful!"

Melany laughs, the sound shaky but real.

And just like that—

The tension cracks.

Wanda moves first.

She crosses the room quickly, wrapping her arms around Melany like she's afraid she might disappear.

"I'm so happy for you," she says, voice thick against her shoulder.

Melany closes her eyes.

Holds her just as tightly.

"I know," she whispers.

"I mean it," Wanda adds. "This—this is everything."

Melany swallows.

Because it is.

She pulls back slightly.

Looks at her.

"You're going to make me cry before I even put the dress on."

"Too late," Nat mutters.

Melany laughs again, wiping at her eyes.

"Okay," she exhales. "Okay. We're not doing that yet."