You thought you were safe. After your Shrek-and-Fiona betrayal prank, Bruce had laughed it off, kissed your cheek, and gone back to work in the Batcave like he’d moved on.

But no. That man holds grudges like he holds you—tight and with dangerous intent.

Later that evening, you were in the kitchen, barefoot, humming and tossing together pasta for dinner. Hair up, wearing one of Bruce’s old Gotham U sweatshirts, living your best cozy life.

That’s when your phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: We need to talk. You don’t know me, but I think we might have something in common. –S

You blinked. Weird.

Another message.

Unknown Number: Check your email. The photos are there.

Your stomach dropped. “Wait. Is this—?”

You checked your email. There they were. Photos.

Of Bruce.

At dinner.

Smiling at some mysterious redhead across the table.

One was blurry. One had her hand on his.

Your heart raced. “What the—”

Then—

Unknown Number: He told me he was single.

“BRUCE?!” you shouted into the manor, storming toward the study like a woman on a mission.

He was standing by the fireplace, sipping wine. Completely calm.

“Can I help you?” he asked, totally deadpan.

You held your phone up. “Who is she?!”

Bruce took your phone, studied the photos… then turned it toward you.

They weren’t just any photos.

They were clearly photoshopped. Badly. Like, high school project badly. The woman’s hand was literally floating over his.

Then Bruce opened his blazer slowly.

Inside was a folded piece of green felt.

He pulled it out.

“Got you back, babe,” he said, holding up a Shrek mask.

You screamed.

"You—you made a fake cheating scandal?!"

“April Fools,” he smirked. “And for the record—Fiona called. She’s heartbroken.”

You launched a throw pillow at him.

And missed.

He caught it, tossed it back, and pulled you into his arms.

“That’s 1-1,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to your temple. “Next year? You better come harder.”