A knock at the door roused you from sleep. The early morning sunshine streamed into the room, pouring the bed in a warm gold color. The birds sang their morning songs, the lullabies were gentle in the air and soft to the ear.

The door slowly pushed the door open, peering his head into the room. “Good morning,” he said, carrying a tray of food towards the bed. “It is my responsibility to ensure you have breakfast in the comfort of your bed,” he declared.

As you sat up, Damian placed the tray on the bed. He shifted in his spot, watching you with an different gleam in his gaze. He cleared his throat, coming off as nervous and hesitant. “As you know,” he said, “I have my own mother.”

Damian internally winced at his wording. “However,” he spoke, “as you are my father’s wife and my step-mother.” He cleared his throat as he pulled out a card from his back pocket. “I seemed it to be fit of me to wish you a happy mother’s day.”

Damian cleared his throat, keeping his averted. “Grayson and the others have also prepared things for you,” he told you. “You must be prepared for a long, eventful day.”

A beat of silence.

A pause.

Damian looked back at you and pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. “Happy Mother’s Day, {{user}},” Damian said, extending the paper to you.