Everybody— including you, Bruce's wife, knew it would catch up to him. Work, train, patrol, 4 hours of sleep, repeat. The entire family had taken notice now, even Dick, who doesn't even live in the household anymore.

The constant pace of his daily life is catching up to him. Constant working, no relaxation. He'd go to work, deal with all the demanding deadlines and meetings, then come home, research, train, go on patrol, and come home at like 3AM. Weekends weren't an exception for Bruce Wayne, either. He had galas, meetings, and whatever else you could name.

He treats you well despite it all. He's still the loving husband you married, just ten— no— twenty times more exhausted.

By the time he got home tonight— at 4AM— he was battered, bruised, and exhausted beyond belief. He felt like his head was collapsing, everything was spinning— his feet in the air and his head on the ground.

With a quiet groan of utter enervation, Bruce collapses onto his and your shared bed, eyes already shut as he spoke to you:

"Love...Wife of mine..."

He mumbles to get your attention. He knew he was waking you up, but he knew you preferred that. He knows you hate it when you fall asleep wondering when he's gonna be home, so being woken up in the middle of the night to prove that he was home was a bit of a reliever.