When Abigail woke up from her unconscious state, she didn't see Peter. Instead, she found the well-dressed Mr. Osborn sitting by her window, lazily peeling an apple.
Abigail's intuition told her something was off, and her brow twitched: "...What are you doing here?"
Harry Osborn casually turned his head, giving her a lazy glance, a smile still tugging at the corner of his lips. He replied in his usual nonchalant manner, "I'm here to dig into you."
Abigail suppressed the urge to throw a pillow at him. "I'm doing weapons research, you're doing biological research. What use do you have in digging into me?"
Mr. Osborn continued lazily peeling the apple, then, realizing that he was in the presence of a patient, he hesitated for a moment. With an unwilling expression, he stretched out the apple in front of her and asked perfunctorily, "Want some?"
Abigail really wanted to slap that smirk off his face.
"No, thanks!"
Who would want to fight over food with this rich kid?
But to her surprise, he just shoved the apple into her mouth, smiling at her, "I peeled the apple for you. When have you ever seen me peel an apple just to eat it myself?"
No good deed goes unpunished.
Sure enough, he plopped down beside her bed, switched to a more serious expression, and stared at her. "The truth is, before my father passed away, Oscorp did some weapons research. But his ideas were... unconventional, and the government didn't approve, so we couldn't sell anything."
There it was again. This guy was definitely not helping her for no reason.
Harry looked her in the eyes earnestly, "Abigail, if you join Oscorp, I promise I'll pay you twice what Tony Stark offers you. Whatever benefits he gives you, I'll double them. I guarantee I'll treat you better than he ever did."
Abigail stared at his flawless, almost feminine face, and silently thought, The condition is, of course, that I bring you more profits.
Just then, Peter pushed the door open, and what he heard was exactly the last part, "I guarantee I'll treat you better than he does."
What greeted his eyes was Harry sitting intimately beside Abigail, his focus entirely on her, his expression full of earnestness.
Peter smiled and asked, "What are you two talking about?"
Harry didn't even look at him, eagerly waiting for Abigail's response. He answered absently, "I'm digging for gold."
...
Peter didn't like what his mind had just conjured up.
Abigail reached out, tugged at Harry's face, pulled it, then let go.
Peter: "…"
Now he disliked the things his mind had created even more.
Abigail confirmed Harry's skin was indeed thick before she calmly rejected him. "Harry, you have to understand, Mr. Stark is not only my collaborator, but he's also my mentor. Most of the things I've created were taught to me by him, and the most significant contributions to the weapons I've developed were from him."
"Tony Stark is a genius, and I'm not. If I leave Stark Industries, I probably won't be able to make anything at all."
Peter let out a breath of relief.
Alright, now he liked what his mind had just created.
Harry raised an eyebrow, an incredulous look crossing his face as he stared at her. His expression lingered on her face in disbelief, "Abigail, do you really not trust yourself? And if you stay at Stark Industries, no matter how great your work is, people will only remember Tony Stark. Who will remember you? That arrogant and prideful guy will put his name on all the inventions, right? Are you really okay with staying under his shadow, always beneath him?"
Abigail said earnestly, "Because that's truly his credit."
Harry: "…"
Harry: "You really are... unbelievably kind."
But things didn't go as they hoped.
She could understand why Peter would use his powers to save the world, but she didn't understand why he had to dedicate so much time and energy to it. Even the time to call her, he wouldn't spare.
In Abigail's eyes, Spider-Man had stolen Peter from her.
Peter placed the take-out on her bedside, smiled at her, and opened the box. As he took out a spoon from the warm container, he said, "I've already gone through the formalities for you, but the process still has to be followed. Once you're better, they'll still ask you a few questions..."
Abigail silently leaned against the bed, looking at Peter sitting beside her, but for some reason, he still felt the same as before. It was just that now there seemed to be a thin wall between them. Even though they were so close, it felt so distant.
Peter sat beside her, his hair a little tousled, with a strand of it sticking up in the sunlight, giving him a somewhat mischievous look. His bright eyes lifted, reflecting the sunlight, and he smiled gently at her. It should have been warming, but as Abigail stared into his eyes, she felt a chill.
Peter, just like before, took the bowl of soup and carefully spooned some, seemingly wanting to feed her, but she quietly brushed his hand away.
Abigail took the food box from him, said a polite "Thank you," and then started drinking the soup Aunt May had made.
Peter froze for a moment, trying to cover up the awkwardness. He cleared his throat and began speaking, "By the way, the police said there's still one issue. The 'White Hunter' was supposed to be a very intelligent madman, but after he was sent to the hospital, he fell into a vegetative state, losing all awareness. They said he…"
Abigail's hand trembled, spilling some of the soup on her hospital gown.
Peter quickly stood up to help her clean it, but Abigail quietly lowered her head and muttered another "Thank you."
When Peter heard her second "Thank you," he realized something, and his hand froze as he wiped the soup off. He smiled and sat down again.
Abigail looked up, asking softly, "What did they say?"
Peter, happy that she was speaking to him, quickly answered, "They said he's like a living corpse."
Abigail's heart skipped a beat. She bit her lip, lowered her head, and didn't look at him.
Peter didn't notice the change in her mood, continuing, "But the person who saved you that day, who exactly were they? How did they take away a living person's consciousness? Abigail?"
Abigail didn't respond. She knew better than Peter did that the one who took away that man's consciousness was not Magneto.
It was her.
In her panic, she had caused the man to change, growing thorny vines in his mouth, but because she was afraid to save him, it seemed like the person had died, though his body was saved.
She was terrified.
She was terrified of this powerful ability.
She was afraid of becoming a monster, afraid of getting into trouble.
And now, at this moment, she realized that Peter could never be the shoulder she could rely on. Looking into his eyes, she couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth.
The sense of safety and calm she once had when she was by his side had disappeared without a trace.
Sitting beside her, Harry intuitively felt the tension in the air. Not wanting to be caught in the middle of it, he quickly pretended to answer a phone call and got up to leave.
Seeing her remain silent, Peter, growing anxious, grabbed her hand, "Abigail? Who was that person? What... what did they say to you? What did they do to you? Or were they the one who took the murderer's consciousness away?"
Just as Peter held her hand, a voice suddenly burst into her mind: "Who is he really?"
Abigail was startled, looking up at Peter, but he wasn't speaking. The voice echoed again: "Why did he kiss you? Abigail? Why aren't you talking to me?"
Abigail stared at Peter in confusion, pulling her hand away from his. The voice immediately stopped.
It was Peter's voice.
Abigail still didn't understand what was happening, but everything around her made her uneasy.
She turned, staring at Peter beside her, and softly spoke, "Peter."
Hearing her finally speak, Peter brightened, immediately saying, "Abigail, if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. I'll respect your decision. And I promise this won't happen again—"
Abigail gazed at him, repeating softly, "Peter."
Peter froze, looking at her with confusion.
A bad premonition rose in his heart.
Abigail placed her hand to her forehead, sighed gently, and then clearly said, "Let's break up."