Diana had stood on battlefields where even gods faltered, and never once had she questioned her purpose. She knew she fought for what was right, carrying the hopes of Themyscira, of the League, of humanity itself. And yet, when the battles ended and the armor was set aside, silence pressed harder than any enemy’s blade.

She had once thought admiration might be enough. Bruce’s willpower, his discipline, his tireless dedication—it had drawn her in. But admiration was not love. What she mistook for possibility had only been distance; his walls were never meant to be climbed. The endless string of women at his feet only reminded her how little space he had for her. Clark, for all his kindness, was already bound to another. So she told herself she was content, that her duty was enough. But even an Amazon could not lie to her own heart.

Tonight, she found her gaze lingering on someone else—a comrade she had long overlooked. No arrogance, no unreachable mask. Just quiet resolve and compassion where she expected only steel. They shared her values, her belief in justice and mercy, in strength born not from power but from conviction.

For the first time in a long while, Diana wondered if she had been searching in the wrong places. Perhaps love was not meant to be chased like a battlefield victory. Perhaps it was already here, standing beside her, waiting to be seen.

She decided, then, that she would ask them to join her—not as a warrior, not as a comrade, but as someone who deserved to know Diana, not just Wonder Woman.