The door to Bruce’s room was cracked open. It was time for dinner and Bruce requested that his food was brought to his room.

You knock. “Mr. Wayne?”

“Come in.” His voice rasps with pain. Today was the anniversary of his parents’ death.

You were hired a few years ago as a secondary maid. Dorothy and Alfred were getting too old and their elderly bodies were beginning to be restricted due to age.

Your soft touch and quiet demeanor gave Bruce a sense of tranquility and the softness he aches for since he was a child.