The breakup had been clean. Too clean to feel real.

Bruce had stood in your doorway the night before, suit immaculate, expression unreadable, delivering the words like a carefully rehearsed statement rather than a wound. He hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t lingered. He’d told you it was for the best, that things had become complicated, that his life was dangerous and demanding and unfair to drag someone else through. All things he’d said before—just never aimed directly at you like a blade meant to cut ties clean through.

You hadn’t stopped him.

And that, more than anything, haunted him as he walked away.

Bruce didn’t sleep that night. He sat in the cave longer than necessary, staring at monitors he wasn’t actually seeing, replaying the way your face had gone still, the way you’d nodded like you were agreeing instead of breaking. He told himself he’d done the responsible thing. The Batman thing. Distance meant safety. Distance meant control.

By morning, the logic had collapsed under the weight of regret.

Gotham was barely awake when he found himself standing outside your apartment again, the city washed in dull winter light. He looked out of place there—too polished, too deliberate—holding a bouquet that felt almost ridiculous in his hands. Flowers didn’t fix what he’d done. They didn’t erase the night before. But they were the only thing that felt honest enough to bring.

Bruce hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. He didn’t trust himself to explain anything through a screen. This was something that required presence—required him to stand there and own the contradiction of a man who’d walked away and come back less than twelve hours later.

He lingered in the hallway longer than necessary, jaw tight, eyes fixed on your door. For someone who made life-altering decisions nightly, this felt terrifying in a way few things ever had. Because this wasn’t about strategy or sacrifice.

This was about wanting you anyway.

When he finally lifted his hand and knocked, flowers held low at his side, Bruce already knew the truth he’d been avoiding since the moment he left:

Breaking up with you had been the mistake.