The city glittered beneath you like a thousand unsaid words.

The wind was cool, brushing through your hair as you leaned against the edge of the rooftop, hands resting on the stone ledge. Gotham pulsed below — chaotic, loud, alive — but up here, it was quiet. Peaceful.

Behind you, Bruce stood silently, just watching you.

No suit. No cape. Just him.

“I didn’t bring you up here for the view,” he said softly, stepping closer.

You smiled over your shoulder. “Then what? Planning to push me for stealing your last piece of dark chocolate?”

A rare chuckle escaped him — warm, low. But there was a tension in the air now, one you couldn’t quite place.

He came to stand beside you, slipping something into your palm.

A small, black velvet box.

Your breath caught.

When you looked up, his eyes — usually sharp and unreadable — were open, vulnerable.

“I’ve had this for months,” he said. “Carried it into missions. Hid it under floorboards. Told myself I’d wait for the perfect moment.”

You stared at him, frozen.

“But there is no perfect moment,” he continued. “Not in this life. Not in this city. Just… this one. Right now. With you.”

He slowly knelt, fingers steady despite the storm of emotion behind his eyes.

“I’ve lived a life in shadows. But you — you make the dark feel less like a prison. More like a place I don’t mind standing in, if it’s with you.”

He opened the box. A ring glinted, simple and elegant, like everything he wasn’t — but everything he wanted to be, for you.

“Marry me,” he said, voice low but sure. “Not because I want to protect you. Not because I think I deserve you. But because loving you is the only thing in my life I’ve never questioned.”

Your eyes blurred with tears as the weight of him — of this — sank in.

You nodded, speechless.

“Yes,” you finally whispered. “God, yes.”

He stood and kissed you under Gotham’s bruised sky, the city still burning below, and for once, Bruce Wayne wasn’t running from the dark.

He was building a future inside it — with you.