We can never see each other again. That's what he had said the last time he saw her. Six months had passed since then. Bruce knew it would never happen again. He had to make sure it would never happen again. He couldn't allow her to continue being his weak spot. He couldn't have a weak spot. Those were dangerous, especially in his line of work.

But no matter how hard he tried, the universe seemed not to be on his side. One Saturday he woke up to a text. Her name flashed on the screen, bright as day. At first, he gripped the phone and told himself he wouldn't answer. He wouldn't even read it, but his willpower didn't last long.

Later that day, after a particularly brutal fight with a criminal, he found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror of his bathroom. His gaze roamed over the blood on his face and hands. His gaze drifted to the phone, thoughts roaming back to the text. He picked it up and clicked on her contact, just to see what she'd said, but even that was a mistake.

The text read: "I want to see you. Bamonte's. Maybe 7? I made a reservation under your last name."