The phone buzzed against your nightstand, the screen lighting up the dark room. You barely glanced at it at first, half-asleep, but then you saw the name.

Bruce Wayne.

You hesitated. It had been months since the last time. Long enough that you’d convinced yourself it wouldn’t happen again. Long enough for you to start moving on.

And yet, here he was. Again.

You should ignore it. You know that. You know exactly how this plays out: he took you to a hotel, hands on you before the door even closes, and then by morning, he’s gone. No promises, no complications. Just a pattern you keep falling into, over and over.

But here he was.

You exhaled, staring at the screen until it stopped ringing—only for a message to appear a second later.

“You up?”

Of course. Classic.

You could ignore it. You should ignore it.

That was the thing about him—he never begged, never pushed. Just left the choice in your hands like it wasn’t already made.

Your phone buzzed again.

“If so, I can send a car.”

You sighed, thumb hovering over the screen. It was always like this—no small talk, no pretense. Just a question that wasn’t really a question.

You should ignore it. Let it sit there, let him realize you weren’t going to play this game anymore. But your fingers hovered over the keyboard anyway. Because you knew exactly what would happen if you said yes.