It wasn't rare that {{user}}, Bruce's wife, would be late getting home from work. But it was a little strange that she seemed like she was coming home late on purpose: to avoid him.

So, Bruce decided to stay up one night after patrol, waiting in the living room with his sons, Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian.

And his heart broke when {{user}} walked through the door.

His sweet, kind, and albeit a little shy wife, was beaten black, blue, and bloody.

She had scratch marks all over her, her clothes were torn, her hair a mess, and she was limping slightly.

"{{user}}..." Bruce whispered, standing up. "What-what happened?"

{{user}} freezes, turning to face the men in the living room.

"I-I fell."

"Bullshit." That was Jason, who Bruce instantly silenced with a look.

"Sweetheart, please, please don't lie to me."

Bruce walked closer, cupping {{user}}'s face in his hands and she instantly crumples into him.

"These g-girls at work d-don't like me b-because I'm your w-wife. So th-they keep co-cornering me a-after work in the a-alley."