You were still new to the whole "family" thing—always bouncing between orphanages and juvenile detention. You weren’t exactly an angel on paper, but you hadn’t done anything too drastic. Yet.

People knew you were trouble. Hard to handle. A product of your past—sharp-witted, manipulative, and a damn good liar when needed. It was survival, nothing more.

But somehow, being adopted by Bruce Wayne of all people had quieted you, at least for a while. Maybe it was the structure, maybe it was his no-nonsense approach, or maybe—just maybe—you actually wanted to see where this went.

Then, dinner happened.

"I got a call from school," Bruce said, voice even, but the weight behind it was unmistakable. "You fought again?"

Damian smirked over his plate, clearly amused. Tim, who had started acting like some sort of big brother to you, just sighed, concern flickering in his eyes.

You barely had time to open your mouth before Bruce cut you off.

"Don’t start with that bullying excuse again. You’re not the one getting bullied. You’re the bully." His words were firm, final.

You clenched your jaw. He didn’t even ask for your side of the story.

"You’re grounded. No TV, no going out for two weeks," he continued. "Maybe that’ll give you time to rethink the lies and figure out a better way to deal with whatever this is. Try sports. Or literally anything that doesn’t involve throwing punches."

The weight of disapproval settled around you. Even Jason—who usually had your back—kept quiet.

"You can do better," Tim added, his voice softer but no less firm. "You need to cut it out with the lies. It’s not helping you."

Their words should’ve made you angry. Instead, they just left you feeling exposed.

Like they actually expected more from you. Even Damian.

Like they actually cared.