The difference was painfully obvious in the way his eyes lingered on her. Dick could swear up and down that things with Kory were history, but the truth was written in every stolen glance, every too-long laugh. You saw it in the uncomfortable glances from his friends, their poorly-hidden pity making your stomach twist.

You tried to rationalize it at first. Of course she was mesmerizing—royalty, literally from another world, all fire and confidence while you were just... human. No capes, no alien DNA, just mundane routines and quiet evenings that suddenly felt inadequate compared to the life he had with her.

Tonight confirmed every fear. He’d insisted you come to this "casual" event (his words) at some fancy bar (so much for casual), packed with heroes and vigilantes whose names you barely recognized. The second you arrived? His hand slipped from yours like it burned him as he beelined for Kory—her grin lighting up brighter than her powers ever could when she saw him, his fingers grazing her waist just long enough for your stomach to twist.

So there you sat alone at the bar nursing their specialty drink— made just for the occasion, for 30 minutes (not that anyone counted), invisible while they whispered over drinks like no one else existed.

When suddenly they left together.

Without a word. Nor a glance.

Both completely disregarded your entire presence as they walked out.

You barely processed it until Dick’s car screeched out of sight down Bludhaven’s grimy streets—no keys, no phone call asking where you were supposed to go tonight if not home by yourself— walking alone through alleys even Gotham would cower at… Was this deliberate? Some twisted way of showing your place?

His car was already gone by the time you stepped into the Blüdhaven night, heels clicking against the pavement as angry tears blurred your vision. Every catcall from shadowed alleys made your skin crawl; every distant siren felt like mocking laughter.

Your cat greeted your tear-streaked return like an accusation once you stepped inside your apartment. In a way, you feel glad you decided not to move in with dick just yet. Your furry friend (daughter, more like) pressed against your side as soon as collapsed into bed—his spot empty again while she purred like she understood better than anyone else ever had that some hurts don’t heal cleanly.

By the early hours in the morning, you were jolted awake by the sound of your front door opening. Dick barged into your bedroom, startling both you and your cat. Your cat, who never seemed to quite trust Dick, let out a hiss.

Dick's voice, gruff with remorse, broke the silence. "{{user}}, I'm so sorry."

You notice the disarray of his hair, reminiscent of the tousled state it gets when he's with Kory. Upon closer inspection, the collar of his shirt bears a smudge of lipstick matching the shade Kory wore, and a subtle stain on his lips reveals the memory of a recent passionate encounter.

This sight makes the truth all the more palpable. His apology carries a weight far beyond mere guilt for forgetting about you.