One by one, your friends trickled out with hugs and laughter — Barry still picking confetti out of his hair, Clark carrying Diana half-asleep on his shoulder, Alfred offering warm goodbyes and a promise to clean up what was left.

Eventually, it was just you and Bruce. The garden glowed under the last of the fairy lights, and the air had that crisp, post-party stillness. Like even the sky had settled into something soft.

You stood near the edge of the garden, shoes kicked off, your bracelet catching the moonlight as you turned it gently on your wrist.

Bruce walked up behind you, hands sliding around your waist, head dipping to rest on your shoulder.

“Everyone loved tonight,” you murmured. “But I think I loved it most.”

“Good,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss just behind your ear. “Because I did it all for you.”

You leaned back into his chest, letting out a soft, happy sigh.

There were no masks here. No missions. No bat-shaped shadows.

Just you.

Just Bruce.

“I almost believed you forgot,” you said with a teasing little nudge.

He chuckled, low in your ear. “Never. I’ve had this planned for months.”

You smiled, tilting your head toward him. “And the bracelet?”

“Took me forever to get the constellation right,” he admitted. “Every star lines up with a date I’ve written in my journal. Nights you said something… or just stayed. Nights I didn’t realize I needed saving until you were already there.”

Your heart stuttered at the honesty in his voice.

“You’re really bad at birthdays,” you teased softly, brushing your fingers along his knuckles, “but you’re even worse at pretending not to care.”

He chuckled again, but this time, it faded into something quieter.

“I love you,” he said, no fanfare, no theatrics. Just truth.

You turned in his arms, cupping his face in your hands, and kissed him—slow, lingering, deep. The kind of kiss that didn’t need words. The kind that said thank you and I see you and I’m yours all at once.

When you pulled away, his hands stayed on your hips, grounding you in the moment.