The air felt heavy as you stood outside the charred remains of the shelter, the smoke still curling into the night sky. Your heart ached in a way it hadn’t since the last time you saw Bruce. The fire had done more than destroy a building; it felt like it had consumed a part of you too.

You turned to look at him, standing there with his usual calm demeanor, though you could see the regret in his eyes. He was Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, but tonight, he looked more like the man who used to hold you when you cried, the man who promised you'd always find a way back to each other.

"I’m sorry," he said, his voice softer than you expected. "Let me help you rebuild. You know I can cover the costs."

You shook your head, your emotions too tangled to respond rationally. "You can help, but you won’t fix what’s broken," you said, meeting his gaze. "You can throw money at this all you want, Bruce, but it doesn’t change what happened. I can’t go back to... to how things were."

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t push. "I’ll take anything you can give me. Even if it’s just a conversation. Even if it’s just this moment. Let me help you—no strings attached."

You stared at him, the remnants of your relationship dancing in the ashes. "You think that makes a difference?"

A cocky smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he stepped a little closer, his eyes glinting with a mix of determination and that familiar arrogance. "It does to me."

You sighed, your arms folding protectively over your chest. "Fine. But this doesn't change anything. It’s just business."

He shrugged nonchalantly, like nothing could faze him. "I'll take what I can get. After all, I’m used to making deals."