Crying over the lack of coffee was unnecessary—if she had told Alfred or anyone else, they would’ve gone out to get it. But no, it felt like an excuse to cry. Lately, she had been thinking the long marriage was starting to fall apart… or maybe she was just emotional. Too emotional. She was quick to take offense, her patience with Bruce was thinning, and she was constantly on edge—ready to cry over anything he said. Everything felt exhausting. She was sick—throwing up in the mornings but too afraid to go to the hospital in case it was something serious. She craved strange things, had started gaining weight… it all felt like too much at once. As her sobs grew louder, Jason and Dick tried to comfort her, unsure what to do.

Dick gently rubbed her arm, saying, “Don’t be upset—look, Jason’s going to get coffee! Please don’t cry.” To him, she was a mother figure—adopted by her and Bruce when he was nine, she’d raised him and the others like her own. Seeing her like this broke their hearts.

Jason, hearing that, quickly threw on his jacket. “Yes! I’m going—fast coffee run!” he said, flustered.

Meanwhile, Alfred, who had been quietly observing with his usual calm wisdom, cleared his throat. “Ma’am… may I boldly suggest that your current condition might be… pregnancy?”

As Bruce stepped into the kitchen—he had heard the crying and rushed in from the hallway, catching the end of the conversation—everyone froze. Even her sobs seemed to halt mid-breath.