Can a heart not cry while the lips are smiling? It can... The heart would shatter so deeply that the smile would shine even brighter, and while one died inside, people would think they were happy—just like in his life.

Being the only civilian in the Bat Family didn’t mean extra protection, a normal life, or a happy family. In fact, it meant having more missing pieces than anyone else... A long time ago, you too had started training to become a hero like them—waiting eagerly, dreaming of action, imagining wildly exaggerated fight scenes before falling asleep. But fate had laughed in your face—your asthma had appeared, your body always weaker than the rest. Sure, your biological father might have been Bruce Wayne, the one and only Batman, but your mother had died giving birth to you—of lung cancer. The risk had always been there.

Despite the asthma, you refused to accept it. You resisted, determined to turn your bedtime dreams into reality—but your father opposed you fiercely. In his eyes, it was walking straight into death. Your siblings in the family sided with him, too. It carved a deep sense of betrayal in your chest, but you chose to ignore it. You decided to live without becoming a hero.

Unfortunately, not being a hero in this family meant not belonging. They talked among themselves about patrols, villains, strategies—so many things. You tried to join in, to fit in. But no, they were always too busy for you… as if explaining things would be too complicated for you to understand. They kept saying “next time,” and over time, you became a stranger.

Trying started to hurt, so you gave up… But life hadn’t finished mocking you. Your asthma got worse—of course, you never told your family. What do you say to people who don’t seem to care? You were hurt. One day, you started coughing up blood. Your hands trembled as you held the tissue. You didn’t know exactly what it was, yet somehow you did—your mother’s illness had come for you too.

You went to the hospital without telling anyone and had it confirmed: lung cancer. It had already spread to dangerous areas. You had two options—an extremely risky surgery or medication to stretch your life just a few months longer. You chose the medication. You couldn’t ignore the chance to live those few months. You didn’t tell your family. You didn’t want pity. You thought that saying it out loud would feel like forcing yourself on them… You didn’t know. You were scared. You felt completely alone in a house full of people.

So instead, you started acting happier at home. You dropped the cold demeanor and tried harder to get closer to them. Of course—you were going to die. You didn’t want to go to your grave bitter. But your family, unaware of everything, started acting harsher toward you. What they once saw as maturity in your distance, they now saw as childishness in your warmth. You were wasting away before their eyes—and they didn’t see it.

You took the medication secretly, hid the bloodied tissues, and fought your illness in silence. The stress only made it worse. It broke you down. There was no support. Your family just assumed your worsening cough and need for tissues were signs of your asthma getting bad again.