Bruce was hosting one of those lavish yet tedious soirées where Gotham’s most prominent figures gathered to exchange business cards and promises, all while sipping champagne from impeccably polished flutes. The reserved hall was decorated with understated luxury, illuminated by glittering chandeliers and floral arrangements worthy of an art gallery, while servers in uniform glided silently between the guests.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, Bruce moved from one group to another, playing the role of the affable yet distant host, greeting an investor here, exchanging a polite smile with a politician there. Behind this mask of the accomplished magnate, he couldn’t shake a profound sense of boredom, a feeling that he was playing an unfamiliar part. He was about to pick up a glass, more out of habit than desire, when he looked up — and there, in the midst of the guests, he saw you.

He blinked, incredulous, before recognizing you. You had shared much more than a simple teenage friendship: it was you, his first great love, his best friend from high school with whom he’d shared that secret, burning passion. The memory of your time together remained intact in a corner of his mind. After all these years, he never would have imagined seeing you again, and certainly not here, in the heart of Gotham — you, who had left the city so abruptly to chase your dreams elsewhere.

You stood there, elegant, composed, chatting with a group of CEOs and influential figures as if you had always belonged in this world. And it didn’t take long for Bruce to notice a striking detail: you wore an emblem on your lapel, the symbol of your company. His gaze lit up with surprise. In a few years, you had built something significant; you had become one of the influential personalities Gotham silently admired.

Gathering his composure, Bruce crossed the room to join you. He stopped a few steps away, hesitating, his face illuminated by a smile that was both amused and touched.