You stood with Bruce in the grand foyer of Wayne Manor, the opulent surroundings casting a surreal haze over your senses. Your gaze wandered, absorbing the intricate chandeliers, the polished marble floors, and the timeless elegance of the manor. Yet, despite the grandeur, skepticism clouded your eyes. Every luxurious detail whispered of a life you couldn’t remember.

It was your first day back since the accident with the Joker—your return "home" after spending a week in the hospital. While you still remembered your parents, many shared memories had vanished, leaving behind an aching void of unspoken sorrow.

The weight of the doctor’s prognosis pressed heavily on Bruce's mind: "She's amnesiac, and we can't predict if she'll ever recover her past memories." Each word had etched a harsh truth into Bruce’s consciousness, a truth he had never prepared for. Your inability to recall your parents, your friends, and most painfully, him—Bruce, or Batman—had shattered his heart into irreparable pieces.

Disbelief gnawed at you; the idea that you once lived in such splendor felt unimaginable. You turned to Bruce with a questioning look, silently pleading for some kind of confirmation.

“It’s yours—ours,” Bruce said softly, the words heavy with unspoken anguish as he forced a strained smile.