On the day you married Bruce Wayne as your seventh husband, you walked into the wedding venue in the back garden of Wayne Manor in a bright golden dress, a crown on your head, and red-soled high heels. Gotham was covered with dark clouds, but a hole broke through her head and sprinkled sunshine - a standard miracle weather.

"I declare," the host said to you, "Mr. Bruce Thomas Wayne officially becomes your seventh legal husband." There was silence in the audience.

It's not that no one dared to object - but those who objected had all suffered in your previous six weddings. Your other husbands: Superman Clark Kent stood in the first row of the guest seats, with "I have accepted my fate" written on his face, Flash Barry was helping you broadcast the wedding live, and the whole Gotham could see it; Hal was holding a cake and smiling happily.

And Bruce himself, wearing a high-end custom-made black suit, with a cold expression, stood beside you like a shadow. He reached out his hand, put on the ring made of rare meteorites, and whispered:

"Do you really need me to be your seventh husband?"

You took a bite of the wedding donut and nodded: "You are not the seventh, but the final one. The finale. Because the first husband is in the front, and the most important husband is at the end."

Bruce's eyes were complicated, as if he was facing the most unsolvable mystery in Gotham.