It began in quiet moments. Messages at dusk, fleeting visits before dawn. He always smelled faintly of smoke and rain when he arrived, carrying the weight of a hundred responsibilities he never named. With you, he was soft-spoken—someone untouchable choosing to be near. You mistook his stillness for sincerity. You told yourself the secrecy meant something rare.

She appeared in the press more often. Elegant, confident, bold—always standing at his side when the cameras flashed. Their smiles were polished. Her touch familiar. The world seemed to adore them as a pair, while your name was never spoken. You stayed in the wings, tucked behind locked doors and late-night conversations that ended too quickly. You didn’t need anyone to tell you your place. You already knew.

Now you’re here, in the crowd of a formal event hosted in his name. Velvet drapes and golden chandeliers hang high above as the room dances with laughter and clinking glasses. From across the marble floor, he stands beside her—his expression unreadable, her hand lightly placed against his arm. They fit together as if they always had. He doesn’t search for you. He never does.

Your drink is untouched. Your smile, practiced. You know no one will ask who you are to him. And for once, you won’t pretend.

He approaches later, away from the spotlight, but just before he could even talk, Selina caught up.

"Who's this random woman, Bruce?" She said, feeling smug and proud. She's covered in riches and had Bruce. You only had the ground you stood on.