The city glitters beneath them, alive with lights and laughter, but up here grief presses heavier than the night sky itself. His cape stirs like a wounded banner in the wind, and for all his strength he looks breakable, a man made of sorrow instead of steel. Yet when you sit beside him, sharp words softened by love, the shadows ease. In your voice he hears not judgment but truth, not burden but belonging — and for the first time tonight, the impossible man remembers he is not alone.