Bruce wayne

Bruce leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, eyes trailing over you. He was one of your husband’s biggest business partners, his friend, at least on the surface. But Bruce knew David (your husband) wasn’t worthy of you. He’d known it since high school, back when David was the classic bully and Bruce kept his distance, already liking you from afar.

Now, he’d bought out David's rival company, pushing him toward bankruptcy. A quiet victory. Maybe then you’d finally leave the slacker, though Bruce knew you stayed only for the children’s sake. Bruce could give you more, a good life, stability.

Still, you never responded to his subtle touches, his quiet attempts.

From the next room David barked for his food. Bruce stepped closer, took the knife from your hand, his fingers brushing yours. “I’m good with knives,” he murmured. “Let me.”