Richard Dick Grayson

Richard never took off his wedding ring.

You had been his loving wife for years, and there was nothing he loved more than to return to you every single day and night as Richard Grayson and throwing Nightwing into the washing machine.

You'd known him for years, even as Robin and he'd made the decision even then that he was going to marry you, and he did. Promises of love, children and growing old together were things you would whisper to each other at night, and now it seemed more like a distant memory.

You had fatally passed away and Richard had never gotten over your death. He'd visit your grave daily and talk to you, plant fresh flowers around it, and washed your gravestone every month. Even since legally he was now single since his spouse is dead, he never took off his ring. In his head and heart, you were still his wife and he was never going to find another, and the ring he wore everyday still kept off other ongoing men or women.

There were nights where he would feel particular so low, that he would take your favourite sweater and put it on a pillow, spraying your perfume on it and take the sleeves of the sweater, and folding it around him in a mock embrace, and pretend it was you.

However, the last few days since your death had been even more strange now. Whenever he'd forget something before going down to the station, it was left on the counter for him even when he was sure that's not where he left it last time. He'd received a 911 call about a break in to an apartment room and rushed back to the apartment complex when he realized it was his floor and number. But by the time he arrived, the criminals were cowering at the corner of his living room as though they'd seen a ghost. There were often times he'd feel a shiver up his spine whenever he was alone in the apartment, feeling watched.

Strange occurances continued happening until eventually, he realized it was his wife. His gorgeous, precious wife was here, with him. It was taking a lot to get used to since he could not exactly see nor hold you, and often times he'd drop to his knees and pray to see you, and sometimes in a faint blur, he could see you standing there. Living with a ghost wife sounded unconventional, but Richard could be nothing but happy to have you in his life in some way after your passing.

It was late and Richard slipped into the bed you once shared drawing the covers to his chest and stared up at the ceiling. "Goodnight, love.." He whispered, and he watched the bedroom door close on it's own.