tw. domestic abuse, forced marriage, sex work, arguing

The apartment felt heavy, filled with the weight of anger and fear. Michael's voice was cold, devoid of any fatherly warmth. "You're done running this family, Melina. I found a way to fix things."

Melina's eyes narrowed, suspicion rising. "What do you mean?"

He slid a folded piece of paper across the table—an engagement contract, thick and official-looking. "You're getting married. To a wealthy man. It's a deal that'll set us all up and will happen in a couple months."

Melina's heart sank. "You're selling me?"

Michael shrugged, unconcerned. "It's business. You're too much trouble as it is."

Melina's hands trembled, rage and helplessness warring inside her. "I'm your fucking daughter. You're own blood."

"Not anymore," he said flatly. "You're a means to an end."

The betrayal stung deeper than any physical blow. She thought of Maeve, vulnerable and scared. If she left, who would protect her?

That night, Melina stared out the window, the weight of her father's cruelty settling on her shoulders. But beneath the fear, something fierce ignited—a promise that no one would ever break her spirit.

Melina didn't sleep that night. Instead, she paced their small apartment, the engagement contract clenched tightly in her fist. The reality of her father's betrayal burned deep, but so did her resolve.

She found Maeve curled up on the worn couch, eyes red from tears. "Melina..." Maeve's voice was fragile. "What's going to happen to you?"

Melina knelt beside her, brushing a stray lock of hair from her sister's face. "I don't know yet," she admitted, "but I promise you—I won't let him break me. And I'll do everything I can to protect you."

Later, when Jason came by, Melina pulled him aside, her voice low but steady. "Michael's trying to sell me off," she said, eyes fierce. "I'm not going without a fight. I have too much to lose."

Jason's jaw tightened, fists clenching. "We'll figure this out. You're not alone."

Melina gave a grim smile. "Good. Because I'm not planning on losing this family—not now, not ever."

Together, the three of them went back to Wayne Manor have some peace before making a plan.

Later that evening, in the quiet of the manor's war room, Jason paced nervously as Bruce and Dick watched him with tense, focused eyes.

"Melina's in trouble," Jason said, voice low but urgent. "Michael—her father—is forcing her into a marriage with some rich asshole. It's not just a business deal; it's a trap. She's scared, but she won't back down."

Bruce's expression grew serious, but it was Dick's reaction that cut sharper. His jaw clenched, and his eyes flashed with anger. "That bastard," Dick growled under his breath. "How dare he try to do that to her?"

Jason looked up, surprised at Dick's intensity.

Dick's voice softened, but there was still a fierce edge to it. "Melina... she's one of the strongest people I know. And I... I care about her. More than I probably should. The thought of something happening to her—it scares the hell out of me."

Bruce nodded slowly, recognizing the weight behind Dick's words. "We can't let this happen. She's not just your friend, Dick. She's family."

Dick ran a hand through his hair, frustration and fear mingling on his face. "If Michael tries anything, he'll answer to me. And if that rich guy is half the monster I imagine, I'll make sure he regrets ever crossing her."

Jason felt a surge of gratitude, seeing the fierce protectiveness in Dick. "We need a plan. For Melina and Maeve."

Bruce steepled his fingers. "Then that's exactly what we'll do. Together."

Later that night, Melina found herself alone in the manor's library, the weight of everything pressing on her chest. The soft glow of the lamps barely eased the tight knot in her stomach.

She heard footsteps approaching and looked up to see Dick Grayson standing in the doorway. His usual confident grin was softened by concern.

"Can't sleep?" he asked quietly, stepping inside.

Melina shook her head. "Too much on my mind."

Dick moved closer, pulling up a chair beside her. "I'm sorry about everything you're going through. You don't deserve any of it."

She met his gaze, vulnerability flickering behind her usual guarded expression. "Sometimes it feels like I'm drowning, and there's no one to pull me out."

Dick reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You're not alone, Melina. I'm here."

Their eyes locked, the silence stretching between them filled with unspoken feelings. Slowly, Dick leaned in, his hand finding hers.

Melina's breath hitched as he gently pressed his lips to hers—a kiss that was soft but full of promise.

When they pulled apart, Melina smiled faintly. "Thank you, Dick."

He smiled back, hope and tenderness shining in his eyes. "Always."

Melina had always been the protector—strong, guarded, the first line of defense for Maeve and even for Jason. But with Dick, something different stirred inside her. He didn't rush her or try to fix everything at once. Instead, he showed up with quiet patience, letting her lower her walls in her own time.

One evening, they sat together on the manor's rooftop, the city lights sparkling below like distant stars. Melina hugged her knees to her chest, staring out into the night.

Dick nudged her gently with his shoulder. "You ever just let yourself breathe? Just for a minute?"

She scoffed softly, but didn't look away. "Breathing's for the lucky."

He smiled, then pulled a small, worn notebook from his jacket pocket. "Here—try this."

Melina raised an eyebrow as he handed it over. "What is it?"

"Just some poems I've written. Sometimes putting feelings into words helps, even if it's messy."

Skeptical, Melina flipped through the pages. One line caught her eye: "Even the hardest stones can be shaped by gentle hands."

She looked up at Dick, surprised to see a hopeful smile on his face.

"Maybe," she whispered, "I'm not just stone."

Dick reached over, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're definitely not. You're the strongest person I know—and also the softest. And that's okay."

For the first time in a long while, Melina let herself smile—not the tough, guarded one, but a real, soft smile. A small, beautiful crack in her armor.