Light slowly seeped into the spacious white bedroom, gently laying bands of sunlight across the two of you. It slid over the floor, brushing against the luxurious wedding dress, now his wife’s dress, carelessly left beside the bed. The tuxedo and shoes, discarded in haste, were scattered around the room, reminders of a night in which the world seemed to have stood still.

Bruce woke first. A habit he would never be rid of. He turned his head and looked at his wife. She was still sleeping soundly, her face half buried in the pillow, breathing evenly and peacefully, as if the whole world were finally safe. His gaze lingered on her hand. The diamond ring caught the morning light with a quiet sparkle, and something tightened in his chest at the unfamiliar, almost frightening happiness.

He slowly reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face. In all the years spent behind a mask, he had never felt so alive. So real.

He still could not fully believe that he could now call her his wife.

Unable to resist, Bruce leaned closer, softly pulling her toward him by the waist.

“Good morning, my love…” he whispered, pressing his lips to her temple.