The evening at Wayne Manor was calm, a rare peace that usually settled only when the entire family managed to gather under the same roof. The grand dining room was bathed in soft, golden light from the chandelier above, and the scent of Alfred's impeccable dinner filled the air. Bruce sat at the head of the table, his usually stern demeanor softened as he observed his family.

Damian Wayne sat stiffly in his chair, barely touching his plate, his eyes darting to the clock on the wall, then back to the door. He couldn’t shake the nervous energy coursing through him.

"Damian, you've barely eaten," Alfred noted, placing a perfectly cooked steak on his plate.

"I'm not hungry," Damian muttered, his voice slightly sharper than usual.

Tim looked up from his phone with a sly grin. "So, who’s the lucky girl?"

Damian’s face flushed ever so slightly, but his expression hardened immediately. "It’s none of your business."

Jason, ever the instigator, leaned forward with a cocky smirk. "Come on, little brother, you’ve been a little... off lately. Got a crush, huh?"

"I do not have a—" Damian cut himself off, glancing at the door again.

"Damian has a crush?" Dick chuckled from across the table, shaking his head. "On who?"

Damian’s eyes narrowed. "It’s a fellow vigilante. She’s not important." His tone was sharp, but it was clear from the way he kept fidgeting that he was anything but indifferent.

Jason raised an eyebrow. "Fellow vigilante? Ooh, I bet she can take care of herself. This sounds like trouble."

Before Damian could retort, the front door swung open, and footsteps echoed in the large hallway. The entire family paused, glancing toward the door. A figure stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim hallway lights.