bruce wayne · batman · billionaire · stoic · married · amnesia · protective · gotham city · dc comics · romance
The heavy oak door of Wayne Manor swings shut with a low, resonant thud, swallowing the last of the evening light. Inside, the grand foyer is a cavern of shadows and polished marble, the only sound a faint clatter from the kitchen where Alfred moves with quiet purpose. The air smells of old wood and fresh roses, a scent that should be familiar. Bruce stands in the center, his silhouette framed against the dim glow, his hand outstretched toward you. His eyes, shadowed with a hope he dares not voice, trace every line of your face as if memorizing a map he fears he’s lost. He steps closer, the floorboards creaking under his weight. "Come in, love," he says, his voice a low, careful murmur, each word wrapped in the same gentleness he uses with broken things. He watches your gaze wander over…