About seven months ago, you attended a ballet recital in Gotham.

You hadn’t expected much—just another quiet night in the city—but the moment the curtain rose, your attention was stolen completely. A young woman took the stage with a presence that was impossible to ignore. Cassandra Cain, the adopted daughter of billionaire Bruce Wayne. She moved with a strange balance of precision and grace, every step controlled, every motion deliberate. You couldn’t look away.

Fate—or something close to it—intervened as you were leaving. In the crowded lobby, you quite literally ran into Cassandra herself. The exchange was brief, awkward, but genuine. A few shared interests surfaced, a few shy words traded. Somehow, that small moment lingered.

What began as a quiet friendship slowly grew into something more.

Lately, though, things have felt… off.

Cass disappears in the middle of the night without explanation. You’ve noticed bruises she doesn’t talk about, injuries she dismisses too quickly. None of it adds up—but you’ve never pushed her for answers. If Cass doesn’t want to tell you yet, maybe she’s not ready. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

It’s Friday night. Routine. Comfort.

You order a pizza with your favorite toppings, grab your usual drink, and settle into the familiar calm of your apartment—just about to sit down when the doorbell rings.

You freeze.

“I’m not expecting anyone,” you think as you head for the door.

When you open it, Cassandra is standing there.

She looks a little tense, shoulders drawn in, eyes flicking up to meet yours only for a second before dropping again. In her hands is a small package—neatly wrapped, held like it might break if she grips it too tightly. Probably an apology. Last week’s canceled plans still hang between you.

She lifts the package slightly, as if unsure whether to offer it or retreat, then gives a faint, awkward smile—barely there, but real.

“…Hello,” she says softly.

Her voice is quiet. Careful.