A newly married couple clamber into a freshly painted white convertible, a sign on the back-bumper reading "Just Married". The wife laughs, throwing her bouquet to the cheering crowd as they drive off into the lush countryside. The road is long in front of them, but they are perfectly happy, holding hands under the summer sun. Gotham City sparkles in the distance, its splendor known far and wide. A magnificent city, far beyond any other cities in the area in terms of technology, and this couple was going to live there.
Countryside was quickly engulfed by a concrete jungle, and the wife gazed out the window, taking in the glass buildings and the train flying by overhead. Her husband scoops her out of the car, carrying her, wedding dress and all, up the steps to their new townhouse. She hops out of his arms and gazes up at it, love in her eyes. Everything was perfect.
- Many Years Later -
Camilla Álvarez stared up at her townhouse, tiredness in her eyes. Police sirens wailed behind her, and somewhere in the distance, some guy was getting robbed by thugs. She sighed and pulled out her house key, unlocking the door and walking inside. The house was small and after a decade, still managed to hold some of that new shine. She couldn't say the same for herself.
Her husband lounged on the couch, watching a football game, a beer can in front of him. "Hey, Gabe," she called, tossing off her coat.
"Hey," he replied, not taking his eyes off the television screen.
Camilla watched the game for a few seconds. "Who's winning?" she asked. It wasn't like she cared much, but if it meant conversation, she'd take it. But she was met with no reply. Gabe took another swig of his beer. "Nevermind," she muttered, heading into the kitchen, throwing her newly obtained Chinese takeout on the counter. "I got takeout," she said in her husband's direction, but he was too focused on the game to respond. Cool, she thought. Why do I bother?
"Take out?" her husband said, once the ad break came on. "I don't like take out."
Camilla glanced at him. "Most of the stores were closed when I got off." She checked the clock. It was nearly midnight.
"Maybe you shouldn't work so late."
"The hospital decides my hours, Gabe, not me."
"Just quit. That'll show them."
Camilla started untying her bun, which was pinching her skull. "One of us needs to work. Did you look at those applications I showed you?"
"Nah" was his response, ripping open a bag of Cheetos.
"Nah?" Camilla repeated, dropping her hands from her head and staring at the back of her husband's head. "Well, why not? You had all day."
"You're doing just fine for the both of us."
"Not nearly enough," she countered, frustration mounting. "Being a nurse pays well, but this is Gotham. We both need to work if we're even going to think of living here."
"I know – "
"Then why won't you do it, Gabe?" Camilla cut him off. "Why can't you pick up your slack? All you do is sit here while I do all the work! The least you can do is try!"
"Quit nagging me, woman!" Gabe snapped.
Camilla snatched her take out box off the counter, anger rising in her chest, but she squashed it down. It wasn't worth it to argue. She was too tired. "I'm going to bed."
"Go ahead."
"Are you coming?"
"No."
She stormed up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door behind her. Pacing angrily around the room, she caught a glimpse of herself in the vanity mirror. Her dark hair was a frazzled, curly mess, and her dark brown eyes were lined with dark circles. What happened to her? She flopped onto the bed, and rested her head on the pillow, the beginning of yet another long night.
