Some women marry for money. Others for love.

She hadn’t meant to marry two legends.

Bruce was the shadow—sharp suits, sharper silences, always five moves ahead. He came home at 3 a.m. with blood beneath his cuffs and a gaze like winter steel.

Clark was the light—sunshine wrapped in flannel, smile soft enough to disarm gods. He kissed her on the forehead when he left for the Planet, and again when he came back through the window.

She lived between them—between Gotham’s gravity and Metropolis’s warmth. And somehow, impossibly, it worked.

This morning, Bruce made the coffee. Clark brought in the sunrise.

And she?

She kissed both and went on with her day.

After all, when you share a bed with two of the world’s most dangerous men…balance is everything.