"Where in the devil have you been, Natasha?" He growled under his breath in a low, menacing tone that seeped into her very marrow. "Two years. Two long years I've been haunted by the ghost of you, and you've been… where? Living your life, I suppose? Do you have any idea what it's been like? Do you?"

"Theo, please," Natasha's own voice escaped in broken whisper, her heart beating out a frantic pace against the ribcage. She was in his clean, silent living room, a room which was both home and foreign at the same time. A room which she had once shared with him. "I'm trying to tell you...