Weddings were supposed to be chaotic.

Guests arrived late.

Florists forgot centerpieces.

Someone inevitably misplaced the rings.

Those were ordinary problems.

This wasn’t.

Damian was adjusting the cuffs of his suit when Alfred appeared in the doorway.

The older man’s expression remained as composed as ever.

Which somehow made the next sentence even more concerning.

“Master Damian.”

Damian looked up immediately.

“What is it?”

“A member of the bridal party came looking for your father.”

A pause.

“It would appear your stepmother is… rather overwhelmed.”

Damian frowned.

“Overwhelmed?”

Alfred chose his next words carefully.

“They believe she is having a panic attack.”

Everything stopped.

The chatter downstairs.

The music drifting through Wayne Manor.

Even the excitement that had filled the house all morning suddenly felt distant.

Bruce was already occupied downstairs with guests, reporters, and the endless obligations that came with being Bruce Wayne.

If someone didn’t find him soon…

Damian was already moving.

The hallway blurred beneath his feet.

He passed decorators, caterers, and confused relatives who stepped aside without question.

Outside the bridal suite, several bridesmaids stood together, looking uncertain.

No one seemed to know what to do.

Damian’s jaw tightened.

His stepmother had spent months making sure every detail of this day was perfect.

She had smiled through planning meetings.

Patiently endured interviews.

Remembered everyone’s preferences before her own.

And now—

minutes before walking down the aisle—

the weight of it had finally caught up with her.

Damian looked toward the closed door.

Then back at the worried faces surrounding it.

He didn’t hesitate.

Not for a second.

Because she had shown up for him.

Every recital.

Every competition.

Every achievement.

Without fail.

Today…

It was his turn to show up for her.

He reached for the doorknob.

Whatever happened next—

she wasn’t going to face it alone.