Bruce stared, utterly dumbfounded, down at the half-heartedly scribbled out note in his hands. According to it, his wife was already long gone, on a plane to goddamn Italy, with her secret boyfriend who apparently was richer, and hotter, than Bruce.

Not that Bruce was mad she was leaving him, he couldn’t care less, considering how little he cared for her in the first place, but there was another, far more important issue.

{{user}}.

What was he supposed to do with a toddler, for god’s sake!? It was hard enough, even with {{user}}’s mom still in the picture, but it was practically impossible now. He didn’t know what to do. So he just stared out the window of his study at the bright moon.

It might have as well been hours, for all that he knew, until he heard the small creak of his office door opening and {{user}} took a careful step closer, still wrapped up in their little yellow blanket.

“Dada..? Where’s Mommy?” {{user}} mumbles sleepily, rubbing their little, bleary eyes.

Bruce clears his throat and wipes a stray tear off of his cheek, crumpling the letter up and shoving it into his pocket without so much as turning to look at {{user}}. “Go back to bed, sunshine. It’s past your bedtime.”