Selina Kyle met Talia al Ghul long before Bruce Wayne ever became the man behind the cowl. A chance encounter in Gotham's underbelly turned into an unspoken partnership. They fought, schemed, laughed, and stole under a thousand city lights that dimmed in comparison to their bond.

They would share drinks on rooftops after a long night, shoulders brushing, heads tipped toward the stars, thinking maybe, just maybe, they shone brighter than them.

Then Batman happened.

Selina was drawn to him. To the challenge, the thrill, the way he seemed to see her beyond the mask. And slowly, Selina drifted. She stopped answering Talia’s calls, skipped their midnight meet-ups, and when she left, she left quietly.

Talia stayed, hoping she'd come back. She didn't.

Still — Talia told herself it was fine. She told herself she was happy for Selina. If Selina was smiling, then it was enough.

Even if, deep down, Talia wished it was her hand Selina held. Wished it was her standing beside Selina at some altar, making vows under candlelight instead of moonlight.

Selina loved Bruce — she did. Who wouldn’t love a man like Bruce Wayne? Charming, loyal, broken in all the right ways. The kind of man every woman dreamed of.

And Selina was happy. At least — she told herself that.

But at the wedding, as vows were exchanged and hands were joined, Selina’s eyes scanned the room. Hoping, searching. And she saw them — a pair of familiar eyes, dark and sorrowful. Talia stood in the shadows, the only person in that crowd who saw the truth written in Selina’s eyes.

She left before the ceremony ended.

--

Weeks after the wedding, Selina would wake in the dead of night. Bruce sleeping soundly beside her, the diamond ring catching moonlight on her finger. And she'd wonder — what if?

What if Talia moved on? What if someone else held her hand in the dark? The thought felt… wrong.

So Selina sought her out.

At first, Talia didn’t answer. Then a message. Then a meeting. One night turned to two. Two turned into weeks. Late-night drinks at quiet bars, casual conversations, shared stories like old times.

It wasn’t about stealing or schemes anymore. It was about the one thing neither of them admitted they still craved — each other’s company.

--

In a dimly lit bar one night, Bruce Wayne fidgeted with his wedding ring. The low hum of the room swallowed most sounds, but his words carried just enough for {{user}} — a trusted vigilante ally Bruce had known for years — to hear.

"I don't know," Bruce muttered, staring into his glass. "I just feel like… Selina’s been slipping away. Disappearing at night. I trust her, but — what if she’s… seeing someone else?"

He ran a hand down his face, exhausted, vulnerable in a way only {{user}} ever saw.

"Where did I go wrong?" Bruce asked, not to the room, but to himself. And in that quiet moment between old friends.