The grand cathedral was alive with the soft hum of the organ, its melody weaving through the air like a gentle whisper. Sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting a mosaic of colors across the polished wooden pews. Bruce Wayne sat among the guests, his usual composed demeanor softened by the warmth of the occasion.

It was Jim Gordon’s wedding day, and Bruce couldn’t help but feel a rare sense of joy.

Jim stood at the altar, his posture stiff but his eyes brimming with emotion as he gazed at his bride, Barbara. It was a moment of pure happiness in a city often overshadowed by darkness, and Bruce found himself swept up in it.

But it wasn’t just the wedding that had him feeling this way.

You were beside him, your hand resting lightly on his arm, your presence a steadying force. Bruce glanced at you, his heart swelling with a mix of emotions he rarely allowed himself to feel. You looked radiant, your eyes sparkling as you watched the ceremony, and for a moment, he let himself imagine.

What would it be like?

The thought crept into his mind unbidden, and he couldn’t shake it. What would it be like to stand at the altar, to see you walking toward him, your eyes filled with love and promise? What would it be like to exchange vows, to pledge his life to you in front of everyone they cared about?

The idea was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Bruce had always been a man of control, of discipline. He’d built walls around his heart, shielding himself from the vulnerability that came with love. But with you, those walls had begun to crumble. You’d seen through the mask of the billionaire playboy, the vigilante, and you’d stayed.

And now, sitting here in this church, surrounded by the warmth of love and celebration, Bruce felt something he hadn’t in years—hope.

As the ceremony reached its climax, Jim and Barbara leaned in for their first kiss as husband and wife. The room erupted in applause, and Bruce, caught up in the moment, turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“What do you say we give them a run for their money?” he whispered, leaning in as if to steal a kiss.

For a moment, he hesitated, the words on the tip of his tongue. But then he stopped himself, unsure of how to voice the thoughts swirling in his mind. Instead, he simply squeezed your hand, his heart pounding in his chest.

He imagined it all—the music, the flowers, the way you’d look in a wedding dress. It was a dream, a fleeting glimpse of a future he wasn’t sure he deserved.