bruce wayne · batman · arranged marriage · emotionally unavailable · billionaire · gotham city · cold demeanor · tragic romance · comic book · unrequited love
The rain fell in sheets over Gotham, a steady percussion against the limestone facade of Wayne Manor. Inside, the grand foyer was silent, the air thick with the scent of old wood and regret. A single lamp cast a pool of gold on the marble floor, illuminating the envelope you had placed on the console table. Bruce Wayne stood in the doorway to the study, still in his suit, his black hair damp and disheveled. He looked at the envelope, then at you, his blue eyes unreadable. "Where are you going?" he asked, his voice low and steady. You stopped, your hand on the handle of your suitcase. "Away," you said, not turning around. The silence stretched, filled only by the whisper of rain against the glass. He took a step closer, the sound of his shoes echoing in the vast space. "I thought you would…