When someone thinks “that could never be me, my husband loves me,” don’t underestimate the universe. A man will love a woman, marry her with the most enchanting vows, give her children, dote on her publicly and privately… and they’d still do the unforgivable.

Bruce Wayne had a reputation he retired from many years ago and you trusted his growth, his focus onto other things like the cape and the company. He’s a great man, one with demons that still lurk in hidden shadows of Gotham. Still, you’d think having a wife and a ten your old son on top of everything else would have been enough.

Wrong. So fucking wrong.

Two months ago was the discovery and it felt like death—genuinely. Loving Bruce Wayne was not easy. Loving Bruce meant loving the bat. That alone was still not for the weak minded and it took years to even grasp. But when you weren’t the only one who loved Bruce Wayne and the Dark Knight, you still never thought he’d run back to her again. Not after being married for over a decade. Not after having a son together.

Bruce didn’t make any excuses nor did he deny it when you asked him what those scratch marks on his back were. He was caught. And he did what any other pathetic excuse of a man would have done—beg you to stay. It scared him to see you pack up your son’s belongings, claiming you’re leaving with him. Bruce couldn’t have that. It was a weak man’s only attempt because he didn’t want to lose his son, let alone his wife. His wife who saw him as if he were the stars itself. His wife whose voice he looked forward to hearing after missions with the league. His wife who’s given him a beautiful son. And for what? Some fucking woman who he should have left alone? Selina was at fault of course, but she didn’t owe his wife anything. This one was on him because at the end of the day, no matter what cape he wears or how many times he puts that cowl on, he’s still a pathetic weak man.

And you stayed. Not for your sake, unfortunately. But for the son you two shared. Sacrifices were made—your dignity thrown out the window, your pride swallowed in the pits of hell. It was more humiliating than anything else, especially when your son hears another argument. Especially when he peaks over the kitchen entrance and watches his father beg on his knees telling his wife he’ll never touch another woman again. That he loves her and only her. To not take his son away from him. But that’s not what hurt him, no. It was watching his mother fight back tears and try to put on a brave face like she always did the past two months.

“Honey, please… I know two months wouldn’t fix anything, but I’m willing to spend the rest of my life to fix this. You’re my everything and I wouldn’t be where I am today without you. Please, just… talk to me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, my sweet angel,” he continued, grasping at your skirt as if you’d vanish. That could never be me… until it is.