The sky over Manhattan bled orange into violet by the time MJ got back. Twilight stretched long across the brick buildings, washing the street in a strange quiet—a kind of quiet that didn't soothe but sharpened everything.
Her cab pulled away as she stood on the curb, still replaying the moment that had ambushed her like a punch.
Felicia.
Peter.
Together.
Walking into Insight thinking she'd say hi, maybe laugh awkwardly, maybe start the slow, gentle road back to something familiar—and instead seeing Felicia Hardy perched on Peter's lap, both of them smiling in a way MJ hadn't seen from Peter in months.
MJ's stomach twisted again as she unlocked her apartment door.
Click.
The sound of it closing behind her felt impossibly loud.
She shrugged off her jacket, letting it fall onto the couch before sinking down beside it. The apartment felt too small for how big her feelings suddenly were.
She pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead, "…God."
The image wouldn't fade. Felicia's confidence. Peter's ease. Their hands on each other like it wasn't complicated. Like, none of it was complicated.
Mary Jane Watson had spent years performing for crowds, cameras, directors, and casting rooms. She could plaster a smile over heartbreak without missing a beat.
But alone here, in the dim quiet, the façade cracked.
"Pull it together, MJ," she whispered—but her voice wavered.
She stood abruptly and moved to the kitchen, filling a glass with water and setting it down again without taking a sip. Her reflection in the microwave door looked… haunted.
She reached into her purse and retrieved her phone. Peter's name lit the screen.
Her thumb hovered.
'No,' she thought, jaw tensing, 'Not like this. Not sounding desperate. Not when I'm the one who said I needed space.'
She tossed the phone onto the couch and paced.
It didn't help.
She grabbed the phone again—but instead of Peter, her finger drifted to another name.
Aunt Anna.
The phone rang twice.
"Mary Jane? Sweetheart, what's wrong?" came the warm, steady voice that had carried her through so many storms.
MJ sat down slowly, pulling her knees up as if bracing herself, "I… saw something today," she said quietly. "Something I wasn't ready for."
Anna didn't rush her, didn't prod—just listened.
"Was it something to do with Peter?" she asked, gentle and perceptive.
MJ swallowed. "Yeah."
"What happened?" Aunt Anna asked in a concerned tone.
"I went to see him at his new workplace," she said, "And he wasn't alone."
A pause.
Anna waited.
MJ closed her eyes. "We broke up a few days ago… well, I broke up with him. I went to see if we could talk and maybe try to fix things. When I got there, this girl Felicia, an old flame of his, was with him."
A soft inhale on the other end of the line—surprised, but not judgmental.
"And that bothered you," Anna said.
MJ laughed bitterly. "It shouldn't… right? I'm the one who asked for space. I said I needed time. I'm the one who walked away."
"Yes," Anna said calmly. "And now you're hurting that he didn't stay frozen in place waiting for you while you figured things out for yourself."
MJ pressed her hand to her chest. "That's what it feels like," she whispered. "I thought—god, I don't know what I thought. Maybe that he'd wait… that he should have waited. Maybe that when I was ready, he'd just still… be mine."
A tear escaped before she could wipe it.
"I didn't think he'd look that happy without me," she said. "I didn't think he could."
Anna's voice softened. "Losing someone you never imagined losing hurts most of all."
MJ let her head fall back against the couch.
"I wasn't ready to lose him," she whispered. "I didn't even think I could. I thought we'd always be MJ and Tiger till the end."
Aunt Anna let the silence sit before replying, "Then you need to decide what to do with that truth, dear. Not punish yourself for feeling it. I know there's nothing I can say to fix it, sweetie, but I'm always here to lend you an ear."
MJ didn't answer. She couldn't. All she could do was acknowledge the gesture and hang up.
She stayed there on the couch long after the call ended, phone pressed to her chest, eyes burning.
Elsewhere — Midtown, After Work
The night air was crisp as Peter and Felicia stepped out of Insight together, shoulders almost touching.
The city hummed around them—traffic murmurs, storefront lights flickering on, distant sirens blending into the background. Normally, Felicia would've cracked a joke about nighttime being her natural habitat, but she watched Peter instead.
He was quiet. Too quiet.
Felicia nudged him lightly with her shoulder. "You're awfully silent for someone who survived Alison's caffeine withdrawals."
Peter let out a weak breath of a laugh. "She did threaten me with a tripod. I'm pretty sure that counts as a hostile work environment."
"Too late to dock her pay now," Felicia said. "You gotta strike while the photographer is mid-rant."
He laughed again—but it faded fast, thinning out before it reached his eyes.
Peter shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets. Felicia walked beside him, matching his pace, her expression unreadable except for one detail,, she was watching him too closely for this to be casual.
"You're thinking hard," she said, lightly bumping his arm with hers. "That's usually my thing. You're stealing my brand."
Peter huffed out what barely counted as a laugh. "Just… long day."
They made it another block before Felicia slowed and turned to face him. "Spid—no. Peter. Talk to me."
He shoved his hands into his pockets, shoulders rounding slightly. "It's MJ. Showing up today."
Felicia didn't flinch—but she did still. Completely. "…Yeah, figured she'd be on your mind," she said after a beat, "I was there. That whole… hallway moment." Her mouth tilted, but there was no humor in it. "What did you two talk about when I stepped out?"
"Not much," he admitted quietly. "She didn't look happy. Not angry either. Just…" He searched for the word. "Hurt."
Felicia nodded once. "I'm sure she was." Then she started walking again, voice lighter—but strained at the edges. "I've been glared at before. Comes with the catsuit. But today felt different." She glanced at the pavement. "It felt like I walked into a room that still belonged to someone else."
Peter stopped short, "You didn't. I made the decision to be with you. You didn't take me from her. I choose you, Felicia."
She turned back, giving him a crooked smirk that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Relax. I'm not about to spiral. I just need to know where your head is—especially after today."
Peter opened his mouth, but she raised a finger.
"And don't apologize," she added. "You didn't cheat on her. She ended things. You're allowed to move forward. I'm allowed to be part of that."
He swallowed. "I wasn't. I just wanted to say I don't regret anything."
She blinked.
"I don't regret you," he clarified. "I don't regret us. I don't regret… choosing this." Then, softer, more honest, "But yeah. I feel guilty. MJ and I were together a long time. Seeing her like that—knowing I caused that pain—it doesn't just disappear."
Felicia exhaled slowly. "I'm not asking you to erase her. Or pretend she didn't matter."
He met her eyes. Really met them. "Then what are you asking?"
She didn't dodge it this time.
"I just want to know that when you look at me," she said quietly, "it's not because I'm new. Or easier. Or because I happen to fit in the space she left." Her voice softened, almost careful. "I want to know you're choosing me. Not the absence of something else."
Peter stepped closer, no hesitation now.
"I choose you," he said. Calm. Certain. "I didn't today because MJ showed up. I chose you before that. And I'll choose you after."
Her breath caught—just barely.
She didn't answer with words.
Felicia reached up, fingers curling into the front of his jacket, grounding herself first—then him—and kissed him.
It wasn't flashy. It wasn't possessive. It was slow, deliberate, and sure. A choice made tangible.
When she pulled back, her forehead rested briefly against his.
"Good," she murmured, a small smile finally reaching her eyes. "Then we're clear."
They started walking again, closer than before. Hands brushing. Lingering before threading together.
Until his phone buzzed.
Ethan:
"Apparently, I'm hanging out with you, Amy, and Paige tomorrow.
Bring us to the X-Mansion.
Amy needs offensive power training."
Peter groaned and buried his face in his hands, "I almost forgot about this."
Felicia laughed outright. "You're dating a super thief, partnering with a walking disaster, and mentoring a girl who wants to be a hero. You really thought you'd get a quiet weekend?"
He glanced at her. "Why does everything with Ethan feel so draining?"
She snorted. "Because it is. And he's probably already accounting for how you'll complain about it."
Peter sighed. "Fantastic."
She looped her arm through his and whispered seductively, "Come on. Let's get you home. I think I can cheer you up."
Peter laughed nervously and picked up the pace.