Chasing Ghosts | Natasha Romanoff

Chapter 102: I Will, I Do

May 28, 2026

12:30 PM

Natasha

Natasha was nauseous. She could not remember the last time that twisty and churny feeling in her stomach made her feel so miserable. Maybe when Katya got that accident years ago, and for a second, she thought her wife had died. Yes, probably then. But not after that, and she hated every second of it.

Why did it play up now? Was it the hundred people expectantly watching the front door of the house, waiting for her to walk out? Were the eggs bad that she ate this morning, despite buying them only two days ago? Or was it the excessive amount of cologne Clint had sprayed on this morning that threatened to make her pass out right there in the hallway?

She knew the real answer. Of course, she did. But admitting to herself that a wedding—her own wedding—made her so nervous that a part of her brain shamefully considered abandoning ship, would leave her feeling a whole lot less brave about stepping out the house.

Just ten minutes ago, she'd panicked until her chest heaved up and down a dangerous amount. Because she couldn't find Clint, and he was the one walking her down the aisle. Yelena had quickly taken pity on her sister and went out to drag him back into the house for her.

Literally. Her hand had a death grip on his tie.

He said he assumed that now that Fury was here, he would take over those duties from him. But he quickly realized his mistake at Natasha's dangerous glare, muttering an apology and sticking by her side for the remainder of the time. Now, her trembling hands gripped both Fury's leather jacket and Clint's suit jacket tight by the inside elbow, one man on either side. She wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

''You haven't breathed in a minute or so.''

That's why her lungs were starting to burn.

At once, she sucked a large amount of air into them, her corset confining the expansion of her ribcage too far. The black spots in the corner of her vision faded away, as did the nausea for a pleasant full second. Clint's free hand patted hers, feeling the grip on his sleeve loosen slightly.

''It'll be fine. It's just Kat," he continued softly, never looking at her but instead staring at the front door.

''Yeah! Kat and a hundred other people!'' Natasha exclaimed, disliking how closely her voice resembled hysteria.

Crowds had never bothered her, let alone a small one. But they would see her so vulnerable, people she didn't know well, and that made her fall into old habits where showing her soul made her feel weak, naked, an easy target.

As if she had carved open her chest for them, granting them easy access to her most vulnerable organs.

''Were you aware of your audience the last time it was you and her up there?'' Clint asked knowingly.

No.

Natasha gritted her teeth, hating whenever people asked questions they already knew the answer to. Just to hear her say it, just to make her hear it. Even if it was meant to calm her down.

She refused to respond, moving restlessly in her spot. "We should have stuck with a small wedding." Like last time. Like ten years ago to this exact day.

Why did she have to propose a big wedding? They could have just thrown a party and invited everyone. An anniversary party, yes. Like today but without the overt display of her lovesick side.

She should have snatched some of Katya's anxiety pills from the spare bottle in the kitchen. Top cabinet, in an enclosed container, out of reach from Maya and the cats, with one of those childproof twisty caps.