Chapter 1
Agatha entered the room as quietly as possible, stopping the door before the hinges could squeak like she knew they would, eyes scanning quickly. Wanda was fast asleep, propped against the headboard with her legs crossed under her, hands holding her belly. Dread pooled in her stomach at the thought of the woman waiting up for her, but it was easily replaced by the adrenaline of the night still coursing through her. Rio. Rio, Rio, Rio.
“Agatha?” Wanda’s tired voice flowed through the dimly lit room, making the brunette stop in her tracks. She had hoped to sneak in unnoticed, change in their bathroom and slip into bed without disturbing the redhead, considering how she had fallen asleep. Of fucking course, the redhead managed to screw up that plan.
“It’s just me, hon.” The pet name had her stomach churning in ways it hadn’t for a long, long time, disgust curling around her head. The worst part was; Wanda hadn’t done anything. Not counting getting pregnant, or marrying her, or falling for her in the first place, or- She had no reason to blame the redhead, not really, but she couldn’t blame herself. It’s not her fault who she falls for, or falls out of, for that matter.
“What took you so long?” And there was that god awful question. Wanda was good at that, asking what she didn’t want to hear. Speaking when she didn’t want to listen. Loving when she didn’t love back. Christ, she hated Wanda. Hated Rio. Hated herself.
“Work ran late, accident on the way home. Off of Ninety-five.” Agatha kept her tone light, though she spoke through bared teeth. It was easy enough to head into their bathroom to change, needing the space to clear her mind. She kept the door cracked, once again slipping into her role of loving wife. She hated how often she did it, almost like Wanda had placed a spell on her, put her in a role she couldn’t escape. Except, she could. She could ask for a divorce now, tell the redhead she didn’t love her, hadn’t for months, maybe even years now, leave her with nothing and run off with Rio. If only…
“That’s terrible, baby. I hope everyone’s okay. I’m sorry work kept you so late again, I know how much you hate it.” And again, that woeful voice pulling her back to the present, right where she didn’t want to be. She should have taken Rio up on her offer, should have spent the night at her house. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so… so pitied.
Agatha only hummed in response, not caring if she was loud enough for the woman to hear or not. She’d be asleep soon enough anyways. It’s not like Agatha owed her anything. She had given her heart years ago, was that not enough? Clearly it wasn’t as the redhead began to talk again.
“Dinner’s in the fridge if you’re hungry. I made carbonara, there’s garlic bread on the counter to go with it. I didn’t have time to make it, but I picked up a boysenberry pie from that one place you like down the street.” She knew the redhead was stalling in an attempt to stay awake from the way her words were strewn together and beginning to slur together, occasional yawns accompanying her words. The worst part is that she knows how much Wanda dislikes said pie, despite how much she herself loved it. She wonders if Wanda knows. Knows she and Rio are… if she’s making her favorite meals in an attempt to keep Agatha all for herself. If she’s waiting for the right moment to rip them apart, to lawyer up and sue her to hell and back for her own personal entertainment.
Agatha knows better, though. Knows Wanda’s too insecure for that. Especially now that she's pregnant. She thinks about the nursery. She still hadn’t gotten around to painting it, despite the persistent nagging from the younger woman. Maybe Wanda had done it herself, if she wasn’t still so cautious about every goddamn thing either one of them did. She wonders how they had ever clicked, considering just how different they seemed to be now. She laughs at the fact that they thought they were soulmates. That Wanda still thinks that.
It was simple enough to go through her routine and ignore the redhead, the faucet running a constant noise that helped to drown her out. She found herself comparing Wanda and Rio, especially in the early days of their relationship. Wanda had been so lively. Somehow both spontaneous and preplanning everything at the same time. Rio was so much more. Rio could do what Wanda couldn’t. Rio could go out to dinner without bringing up them or their future. Rio could say fuck you to anything and everything in favor of either one of them. Rio could make her day brighter just by being… Rio. Could fuck her, plain and simple.
By the time she made it back into the bedroom, Wanda was laying down, facing the bathroom, though she seemed to be asleep. Once again, kept awake waiting for Agatha. The brunette could only scoff under her breath, pity rushing through her. Wanda was too wrapped up in herself to notice how Agatha would pull away first whenever they’d hug, always initiated by the redhead. Too wrapped up in this world of love they created long ago to notice how Agatha didn’t touch her anymore, how she was always the one giving and not receiving, per Agatha’s half-assed mumbles of being tired. She didn’t know how every time, she wasn’t thinking of Wanda. No, she was imagining someone else, eyes closed the entire time, even as Wanda spoke and touched her.
The thoughts weighed her down as she slipped into bed, glaring at the wedding band that stayed in the jewelry dish Wanda had gifted her years ago, yet another thing she hated. She laid on her side, facing away from the redhead as she tugged the covers over herself, her mind working a mile a minute and somehow blanking at the same time.
“I love you.” Wanda mumbled as she rolled over, clearly with more difficulty than she used to, arms wrapping around the brunette’s waist. Well, as much as they could considering the growing bump that separated them. Agatha was almost thankful for that, silently glad that their child was already saving her in ways she could never tell them.
“Love you too.” Agatha sighed out, something she could easily chalk up to being tired and not hatred, not bothering to cuddle into the redhead like she might have once had. Wanda’s forehead rested against the top of the back of her neck, a soft kiss placed there before her breathing evened out. Agatha couldn’t help but shiver at that, both in discontent and some awfully mangled version of the slight amount of love that still lingered in her heart for the younger woman, squeezing her eyes tight in hopes sleep would overcome her soon.
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“Wanda, can we talk?”
“Of course, baby. What’s up?” Wanda’s smiling as she sets her purse back on to the small side table she had picked it up from, her phone set next to it as she turns back to smile at Agatha and the woman couldn’t be more upset. This was going to ruin Wanda’s day. Her life, potentially. She’ll get over it. She watches as confusion works its way through the redhead’s face as she glances between her and sees Rio, her fingers circling her wedding ring. “Rio! I didn’t know you’d be joini-”
“Oh, please. Save the pleasantries for someone else.” Rio scoffed, an eye roll accompanying her less than kind tone, leaning against her hand as her head rolled with her eyes. Wanda’s fingers stop moving as she looks back towards her wife, shock evident in the way her mouth was slightly agape, as if looking for answers. Agatha could only grimace slightly yet not enough to actually do anything, instead urging the redhead towards the couch.
“Don’t mind her,” Agatha waved the brunette off as she continued to scowl in her chair, instead gently taking her wife’s elbow with as little contact as possible, “we need to talk.”
“Is everything okay, buttercup?” Wanda’s eyebrows knit together as she used the older woman’s hand and the arm of the couch to lower herself down, out of both concern and slight discomfort. Agatha intentionally kept her eyes on Rio, would tell Wanda she was making sure Rio listened if she asked. But she knew Wanda wouldn’t. Knew Wanda would sit prettily. Would listen as she spoke. Would cry at the inevitable. Oh well.
Agatha chose to kneel in front of the redhead, her back angled away from Rio, gently taking the woman’s hands into her own. It was the most touch she had initiated in weeks if not months. She thinks about how hands-on they had been when they met and even into the first few years of their marriage. How they could hardly make it out of the house, let alone leave the other alone once out. They had been so… obsessed with each other. Couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. Bitterness washes over her at the thought that that’s how her relationship with Rio was. Both now and before Wanda. She couldn’t find it in her to care.
“Well,” Agatha found herself sighing, rubbing the girl’s knuckle’s with her thumbs. She had decided how long ago that they needed a divorce and yet she couldn’t even bring herself to say the words. Rio’s eyes on the back of her head weren’t helping. Her throat felt like it was full of cotton and she couldn’t even push the words out if she wanted to.
The room felt dead. All energy had been sucked out and replaced by solemness, a strange mix of heaviness and delight swirling through the air. Her heart felt heavy. She was nervous. She was never nervous. So why now? Well, for one, she was about to ask for a divorce. Not ask, tell. Tell Wanda they were getting a divorce and that would be that, lawyers be damned. And Wanda didn’t even know. Couldn’t prepare herself for it. Why did she care so much? She wouldn’t have to see her after this. Their child, sure, but not Wanda.
“Jesus, get on with it already.” Rio scoffed from the chair. Looking back to glare at the woman, Agatha wants nothing more than to push her leg off the arm and back onto the floor, telling her to sit properly if she’s going to participate in their adult conversation. Or maybe… maybe she wants to ravish the woman then and there, make her wife watch and hope she gets the memo. Yeah, maybe that would be better. Rio did look extremely tempting in her slacks and white button up and her woody perfume and-
“On with what? What’s going on?” And Wanda was confused again, glancing between the women as if they were conspiring against her. She hates that she’s right. Little miss know-it-all strikes again. That son of a bitch.
“Wanda, hun,” Agatha started, sucking in a deep breath even as her thoughts ran in circles, hoping the pet name would at least sugarcoat her words a little, “you know I love you very much.”
Wanda merely hummed in agreement, shifting her wrists to instead entangle their fingers. The move made the brunette grimace. Why did she have to choose now to be all lovey dovey. It was bullshit and they both knew it. Based on the look of concern on the woman’s face, maybe she didn’t. She once would have longed to reach out, take the redhead’s face in her hands and smooth the wrinkle between her eyebrows, tell her not to worry her pretty little head and that everything was okay. Had she been lying everytime she had said it? Had she set Wanda up from the very beginning? Had her heart always belonged to Rio?
“And that I would never want to hurt you.” Agatha shook the thoughts away, struggling to refocus her attention on her wife. Her thoughts keep drifting back to Rio. Rio behind her watching them. Rio’s lips on hers just minutes before Wanda had come downstairs. Rio’s back pressed to the wall of their dining room after baiting her. Rio’s hands. Her hands in her hair, running up and down her sides, pressing hard into her hips, hard into her-
“Yes.” Wanda’s reassuring squeeze of their hands pulled her back to reality, that sick smile she had come to hate plastered across her face. She remembers how Wanda would ask her if she were reacting the ‘right way.’ Agatha had been confused at first; Wanda was going on 23, herself 31. She had thought it strange for the woman to ask her that; they had only been together for three months and yet the girl was hyper aware of every reaction she had. It had taken time to realize that Wanda had been behind the curve growing up in a country that wasn’t her home, trying her best to associate with others without having anyone. And though that had dissipated over the five years of their relationship, she could still picture the girl, quiet and yearning, softly asking if she was doing good in the late hours of the night.
“I want a divorce.” The picture still bright in her head, Agatha breathed the words out, holding her hands tighter as if it would end what was happening. As if she weren’t the one who brought it up. As if she weren’t the villain. As if she were the victim. Though, neither was Wanda. She wasn’t perfect. Neither of them were. That’s why they had worked so well.
“What?” Agatha hated just how upset Wanda looked. Absolutely… broken . And yet… And yet, a part of her rejoiced. The worst part was over. Now, it would be long before she was free. It had been a long divorce in the making. She hadn’t ever been free. Not really.
“I want a divorce.” Agatha was firmer in her words, her eyes a sea of dark blue. Wanda’s green eyes blinked back at her, her hands going slack in the woman’s hold. And oh how she hated that she still needed the redhead in some twisted way.
“I don’t… I don’t understand.” Wanda shook her head, hands limp in Agatha’s, her eyes misty. Agatha could tell she was trying not to cry, trying to keep her ever changing hormones in check, act less upset than she was. She knew the inner turmoil the redhead was likely enduring, questions of what would happen, why, when, potentially who.
“What’s there not to understand? Your wife doesn’t love you and wants a divorce, plain and simple.” Agatha almost wanted to smother Rio for the fact that she couldn’t fucking keep to herself for once, forcing herself into the conversation she wasn’t a part of. It wouldn’t be Rio if she didn’t cause some sort of chaos though, would it?
Agatha was turning towards the dark haired woman with a scowl, unintentionally pulling Wanda forward with her as her hands were still being gripped. “I don’t… Was it something I did?”
“Look, Wanda, it’s not-” Agatha was turning back around before she could berate Rio, a pang of sadness running through her chest. She wanted to reprimand Rio more than she wanted to comfort her own wife. How fucked up was that? What would people think of her when they heard about this ? What had she ever fucking cared?
“Did I… Did I say something wrong? The redhead was clearly reaching for something . Trying to find anything that would serve as an explanation. Tears ran down her cheeks, though she seemed unbothered by them as she searched Agatha’s eyes. Attempting to find a trace of something.
“You didn’t say anything wrong, it’s just-” There was nothing Agatha could say that would reassure the woman. Well, besides maybe telling her it was a shitty joke and that she was still desperately in love with her. But that would be a lie. And despite knowing she was killing the woman, she couldn’t bring herself to lie to her as well. Maybe just a little, but not about love. No, they both had too much trauma to lie about that .
“Was it the pillows? I know you didn’t love them, but we can return them if, if-” Wanda’s voice was more apprehensive than she had heard in a long time, an undertone of pleading coloring her soft crying. She hated those pillows so much. They weren’t ugly, per se, but Wanda had picked them out just under a month ago. They were a deep green, matching the accent wall on the far side of the living room, square and so grossly homely.
“It wasn’t the fucking pillows, will you just listen -” Agatha squeezed her hands as if that would make Wanda shut up. It was better than strangling her.
“Jesus fuck, I can see why you’re over her. Won’t shut the fuck up for five seconds.” Rio scoffed and neither of them had to turn around to know she was rolling her eyes. Typical.
“I- what?” Wanda shook her head. She was momentarily shocked, as if she couldn’t believe the words Rio had said. Agatha couldn’t blame her. They were downright mean, even for Rio.
“Don’t listen to her. She’s not even supposed to be here right now, I was waiting for-” Instead of acknowledging the younger woman like Agatha knew she wanted, she turned her full attention back to Wanda, smoothing her thumbs over the veins in her hands. She deliberately avoided her wedding ring, praying Wanda wouldn’t notice. Knew she was too out of it to.
“You invited me over.” Rio interjected, a sly grin gracing her features. Almost if she knew she had won. In a way, she had. She had convinced Agatha enough to be in the position they were in. She hated the effect the woman had on her. Hated it so much she couldn’t get enough of it. Except for right now.
“Rio! Would you stop interjecting so I can talk to my wife .” Agatha knew those were fighting words, knew how much more tense it would make the room. How pissed off it would make Rio. How sad it would make Wanda. How conflicted it would make herself. She didn’t care, though.
“Was it-” Wanda cut herself off with a soft sob, as if it pained her to ever think about what she would say next. She inhaled shakily once as she looked into Agatha’s eyes, her own fleeting between the two, as if she were steeling herself for what she was going to say. “Is it the baby? Does he- do they remind you of Nic-”
It was her own gasp cutting Wanda off, one she thinks is coupled with a noise similar from Rio. And Wanda was looking between them, some mix of fear and pure sadness so evident on her face it almost hurt. She hated that look. She had once sworn she’d never see the woman so dejected again. Yet… Yet here they are, with the redhead looking more broken than she had when Pietro had died.
“It’s not… It’s not the baby, not Nic-” Agatha dropped one of the woman’s hands in favor of cupping her cheek, her own eyes becoming misty at the accusation. Neither of them talked about him. The few times they had, had been filled with so much trust and tears. Wanda had been so worried when bringing up her desire for children that Agatha would up and leave her then and there. It had been quite the opposite whenever it had been brought up until the last year and a half. Wanda had wanted to be so sure that Agatha would be okay.
“Don’t ever talk about him like that. You don’t fucking deserve to talk about him at all, you fucking bitch!” Rio was looming over her so quickly that she was sure the woman had levitated, casting a dark shadow over the women. Her pointer finger jabbed at the redhead’s chest, fire blazing in her eyes.
“Hey! You don’t fucking talk to her like that!” Agatha stood as a physical boundary between the two women. She knew Wanda wouldn’t do anything. Far too docile and timid to actually be of any threat, Rio however… Rio was a ball of bottled up emotions waiting to explode and now was not the time and Wanda was not the person. She was so fed up with her loveless marriage that she never thought she’d be defending the woman again, but Rio had absolutely no right to take it out on her.
“Oh, please. You don’t even like her! Who fucking cares how I talk to her?” Rio rolled her eyes with another scoff, clearly fed up. Agatha had told her so much about their relationship that it was entirely ridiculous that she would even care. If anything, she expected the older woman to be on her side.
“You don’t get to disrespect my wife just because we’re getting divorced!” Agatha knew they were fighting words, knew they would twist the knife just a little more. There was no reason for Rio to be awful.
“Please stop.” Wanda muttered pathetically behind her hands in a sad attempt at hiding her tears, body hunched over as the two fought. They didn’t pay her any attention, too caught up in their own world.
“You’re so fucking pathetic, oh my god.” Rio laughed. Straight up laughed in Agatha’s face, her voice low and dark in a stark contrast to the yelling just moments earlier. It sent shivers down her spine.
“Me? I’m the pathetic one?” And Agatha was the one scoffing now. Because who was Rio to call her pathetic? Yes, she may have been cheating on her wife, but Rio was nowhere near perfect either. Death incarnated, as she used to say.
“Yes!” Rio cried.
“Please enlighten me, Rio. How am I pathetic?” Agatha gestured to the short amount of space between them, in a ‘the floor is yours’ motion. She almost wished she had popcorn for the theatrics of what she could only imagine the woman would say.
“You’re defending your lousy ass wife, who you don’t even love by the way, considering you seemed to have forgotten that part!” Rio threw her arm out wildly, just barely missing Wanda’s head with her erratic movement. Had Wanda not been bent over as much as she could, she would have hit her. She knew Rio would’ve taken delight in that.
“As if you’re any better.” Agatha crossed her arms, some mix of negative emotions swirling inside her.
“Oh, really? Well, do enlighten me, Agatha, how am I not any better?” And if their back and forth couldn’t get any worse, Rio was scoffing again, the air hanging thickly with the threat baited in her words.
“You can’t get over anything! You’re so fucking caught up in the past, you had to stoop down to my level to-” Rio stalked forward, jabbing her finger into the older woman’s chest, reminiscent of the way she had to the younger’s just minutes earlier. Agatha couldn’t go far, standing still as she leaned back.
“ENOUGH!” Wanda choked out through her tears, loud enough to stop the bickering between the two women but not quite yelling. No, her throat was constricting too much for that. Whether that was from crying or nausea based on the slight grey hue to her face, Agatha was unsure. Either way, it reminded her where she was, yelling at her lover while her wife sobbed to herself on the couch. God, she was so fucked up. She’d live.
“Wanda…” Agatha dropped back to her knees, one hand cupping the woman’s knee, the other hovering just inches away from her cheek. She didn’t know how her touch would comfort her, if her touch would comfort her. It had for years been something Wanda went out of her way to receive and she went out of her way to give. But now… now Wanda looked like a terrified little kitten, shaking and small, acting braver than she was.
“Please don’t… Please don’t touch me.” Wanda’s voice trembled just as much as her hands did as she looked away, pushing the woman’s hand off of her knee. Agatha retracted it as if she had been burned. In a way, she had. She was the one rejecting Wanda, not the other way around.
“Wanda, c’mon sugar, let’s talk this through.” Agatha attempted to grab one of her fleeting hands. Longed to pull it closer to her and kiss it, convince her it’d be okay. Despite them both knowing it’d be a lie.
“I’m gonna… I’m gonna go… Gonna go.” Wanda mumbled softly as she stood, an eerily blank look in her eyes as she wrapped her cardigan more securely around herself, roughly wiping at her nose with her crumpled tissue. The sight made Agatha’s heart clench as she laid her hand where the redhead was just sitting, watching in silence as she waddled towards the garage door, reaching for her car keys with a soft cry.
“Your jacket.” Agatha made a move to get up as the younger woman opened the door to the garage, her body hiccuping with hardly contained sobs. She didn’t make it past the couch before the door had closed, though, sudden sadness washing over her as Wanda clearly made sure the door didn’t slam as she closed it, knowing how it shook the house.
Agatha stared for a long while before the car had pulled out of the driveway, not bothering to move as she knew Rio stood watching her, unknowing of where the redhead would go. She could feel her heart blackening, becoming even darker at how she had ruined the woman’s life.
“Agatha-”
“Not now, Rio.” Agatha muttered, not bothering to look at the woman. She turned away as a bony hand wrapped around her shoulder. She wasn’t in the mood for Rio’s pity. Her own arms wrapped around her middle, her right hand coming up to roll her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger. She was anxious and she didn’t even know why. Perhaps it was Rio’s looming presence behind her, the atmosphere of the place where she and Wanda had once shared so much love now dark and dim.
“You’re the one who wanted to divorce her! Don’t ‘not now’ me.” Rio picked the stack of papers up from the coffee table, shoving them in the brunette’s face as if she needed a reminder of what had just happened. Her eyes lit up in anger, meeting the raven haired woman in rage.
“I said not now, Rio.” Agatha bit out, shoving the papers out of her face with a slight snarl.
“Y’know what? Fuck this.” Rio threw the papers on the coffee table, breezing through the falling sheets towards the door. It was like a scene straight out of a movie with the amount of chaos the stack had caused, flurrying around Rio in a cacophony of noise, almost veiling the woman with how fast she was out of the house. The sounds didn’t stop with the slam of the front door. And despite the papers settling into silence, it washed over everything, leaving the house still.
And so Agatha was alone. Again.