You tried so hard not to be disappointed.

But as the day went on, no flowers arrived. No card. No sly winks or subtle hints. Nothing.

Not from Bruce.

He’d left before sunrise — “WayneTech board meeting,” Alfred had said — and it was now nearing dusk. The only sign of your anniversary was the quiet ache in your chest, the one you'd tried to smother with a solo brunch and a rerun of your favorite movie.

When Bruce finally walked in, still in his pressed suit, still irritatingly calm, you gave him a tight smile.

“Hey,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he replied, kissing your cheek as he passed. “Long day.”

You waited. One beat. Two.

Nothing.

“I’m gonna go change,” he added, heading upstairs.

You stared at the empty space he left behind, lips parting. Nothing? He forgot?

It wasn’t like Bruce to forget anything. But then again… he wasn’t exactly Mr. Sentimental.

You exhaled sharply and wandered back to the living room, heart sinking fast—until Alfred stepped in.

“Miss Y/N?” he said with a curious tilt of his head. “You may want to pack something light. The Master suggested I remind you to bring sunglasses.”

You blinked. “What?”

Then Bruce’s voice came from behind, casual as ever. “Hope you didn’t have plans tomorrow.”

You turned to see him, now in his soft travel jacket, keys spinning in his hand, that smug little smirk tugging at his lips.

“Bruce. What are you talking about?”

“Happy anniversary,” he said, stepping closer. “Your bag’s already packed. We’ve got a flight to catch.”

“To where?”

“Santorini. Greece. Private villa. Just us.”

Your mouth opened. No words came.

Bruce grinned. “I may not do flowers, but I do plane tickets and ocean views.”

You launched yourself into his arms, laughing as he caught you easily, spinning you once with a rare chuckle in your ear.

“You’re unbelievable.”

He kissed your neck. “You’re mine. That’s worth celebrating. Every year.”