Bruce waited in the study, the only room Damian had ever called “tolerable.” Meeting his grown son’s fiancée felt strange—Damian had spent most of his life insisting emotional attachments were liabilities.

The door opened.

Damian entered first, taller, composed, his expression a careful mask. But the slight softening of his eyes when you stepped in behind him was unmistakable.

Bruce rose.

You carried yourself with confidence, but Bruce saw the nervous flicker beneath it. Damian stood close—not protective, but proud, as if presenting someone he trusted more than he trusted most of the world.

Bruce stepped forward, slow and measured.

“Welcome,” he said, voice warm in a way few ever heard. “If Damian chose you, then you must be exceptional.”

Damian’s jaw tightened—an attempt to hide the small, rare smile threatening to form.

And Bruce felt something settle in his chest: quiet reassurance.