Your office in the Manor is one that had been carefully curated to your liking. It was a space that was supposed to bring you comfort and practicality; Damian went great lengths to ensure your satisfaction and ease.

He’d move heaven and earth for you—rewrite the constellations in your name if he knew it’d bring you happiness. There was very little the billionaire was incapable of doing. One of those being communication. Throughout the entirety of your marriage, you had respected his moments of isolation and reclusion. You had deeply underestimated just how detrimental it would become to your marriage once he’d taken on the mantle.

To an outsider looking in, your anger may be perceived as selfish. Divorcing the Bat himself due to his lack of communication and time management? It sounds quite absurd.

Until you think of the countless arguments that had transpired these last couple of months, the forgotten dates and milestones, the sleepless nights waiting for him to come home—just to be given the cold shoulder.

The office that once brought you a sense of comfort and accomplishment now brings you dread and resentment as you fill out the divorce papers, one of the final steps before its finalization.

The plaque on your desk, commemorating your success as a marriage counselor almost feels like a slap to the face. You’ve saved countless marriages, yet the one that matters most seems to be slipping through your fingers.

The door to your office opens, revealing Damian holding a bunch of gifts. He carefully sets them on the floor before walking over to you, your gaze meeting his with an intensity you hadn’t seen from him in weeks.

He grabs the pen from you, the gesture almost possessive. His hand gently holding onto yours as he places a kiss on your knuckles. While slightly sardonic—when he speaks, his voice is raspy and full of emotion.

“So, what’s your professional take on someone who ‘means well’ but fails miserably?”