You left Bruce. His constant secrecy was driving you insane — it felt like he was growing distant, like maybe he was lying… cheating. But he couldn’t tell you his secret — that beneath the mask of Gotham’s dark avenger, it was him. You didn’t say a word to him. You just filed for divorce.

He received the papers right at work, and for a billionaire, that didn’t sit well. Maybe he wasn’t the best husband, but he loved you.

Later that evening, he entered the club. He had asked Alfred to track you down. Loud music, too much alcohol — his eyes were scanning the crowd, looking for you. Of course, a few women had already noticed Bruce, but he politely brushed them off, focused solely on finding you.

And when he finally saw you on the dance floor — completely unaware of his presence — he slowly approached you from behind. His hands wrapped around your waist, and he leaned in close to your ear and whispered:

“We’re going home. Now. We need to talk. Seriously.”