Marinette

Marinette wandered around the room looking at the Christmas decorations and mess of children's toys scattered over the floor. Though she was sure Sophia did what she could to keep the room tidy, Marinette could remember from her times babysitting Manon how, even when you were on top of the mess, it tended to reappear without warning. As a way to use her nervous energy, she moved around the room, putting the items away in boxes and collecting the used mugs and napkins ready for Adrien to take to the kitchen.

Setting a book in the bookcase, she stopped in front of the Christmas tree tucked into the corner, decorated to the extreme. Tinsel, lights, baubles—everything imaginable. It was chaotic, more Chat Noir than Adrien Agreste, and she couldn't help but smile. There was always something about him, a touch of the wild and unexpected, a charm that bent the rules just enough to be endearing. And here he was now, amidst the beautiful chaos, with a child by his side.

A child!

She moved slowly around the lounge, pausing to look at the photographs scattered across the room. There were many of Emily—from her newborn days to now, snapshots capturing her every stage. Some showed her alone, others with Adrien, and some with their friends gathered around. But in all the pictures, not a single one showed a woman by their side–not in that way, any way.

She was still trying to piece together how Adrien had ended up with Emily. Brother. He was her brother. But the questions kept swirling. Something as simple as siblings just couldn't be right. It wasn't her type of luck.

Maybe Emily was his child from some strange future and they were hiding the truth? Or maybe Adrien had taken on the responsibility of looking after someone else's child—perhaps even Chloé's? Marinette wouldn't have been surprised; Chloé had always been the type of person people whispered about back in their teen years. She was even voted most likely to have a teenage pregnancy back in lycée.

But no. Emily seemed too nice to be linked to Chloé. She was sweet and sassy, and Marinette couldn't help but want to get to know her more. She smiled as she thought about the young child's love for Encanto, and the fact Adrien seemed well and truly into it too. He was amazing with her. Maybe not natural, but he was still so warm and caring. Her heart yearned to turn back time and be the one by his side through all of this. To be sharing this Christmas with them and live in this house with them. The whole place was beautiful since the redesign. Adrien obviously had a better eye than his father.

But why hadn't he told her? She would have been here to help him. She would have come back. He meant the world to her, and she thought she did to him too – the lack of knowledge about Emily an obvious fact that she didn't.

Marinette continued to look around. Photos were everywhere, and she could see the pride Adrien took in the small girl. Pride...and love. She looked over the cute photo of Emily in a tutu and ballet shoes, before catching the one beside it. Adrien and Emily in the park. She must have only been months old—maybe three?—tiny tufts of dark hair sticking out in crazy directions, and a cute toothless smile being displayed for the camera. Adrien was looking at her with such adoration, she couldn't control the longing in her heart.

'That was the day she smiled for the first time.' Adrien's softly spoken voice sounded from the door, Marinette whirling around to see him move towards her, complete with two cups of hot chocolate and cream. He moved to the table, looking down at the pile she'd gathered before shaking his head and placing the cup down on two coasters, a gentle smile caressing his face. He strolled towards her, her eyes following his every step, effortless and strong. He took the picture out of her hand and his smile was as bright as his Christmas tree.

'This was her first smile,' he said, reminiscing as he stroked a hand over the photograph, his fingers soft as he moved over Emily's face. 'It had been three months, and I hadn't left here for anything more than doctors and nurse appointments for Emily. Nino was worried, so he turned up with Alya and Luka, and they dragged me to the park. I was a mess. I think it took me an hour to actually leave the house. I didn't know what to take or what to dress her in. Would she be too hot? Or too cold? She loves being warm, but I also know how dangerous it could be. I was reading too many parenting blogs and everything I did seemed to come with a whole list of terrifying dangers.'

Her heart flipped in her chest, a dull ache settling deep inside. He'd gone through all of this without her, without telling her—and the realisation cut deeper every passing thought. Her thoughts tangled, caught between wanting to comfort him as she would Adrien Agreste and facing him with the raw honesty she reserved for Chat Noir. She wasn't sure which side of him needed her now, or which part of herself she was willing to show.

Marinette watched as he placed the photo frame back on the bookcase, his gaze lingering on it, distant and heavy. She wanted to reach out, to close the silent gap that had somehow grown between them, but her hand faltered, caught between the familiarity of Chat and the tenderness she felt for Adrien. She stood there, uncertain, suspended between the need to understand and the ache of being shut out.

She didn't have a chance to act as he spoke again. 'Your mother came over. She was happy to see us. Your mother and father have been such a support, and before you say anything, I told them I didn't want you to know. I wasn't ruining your life over something that didn't involve you. This was for me to deal with.' He trailed off, and she couldn't help but wonder how everything had happened. The more she thought about it, the more she understood. Yet, at the same time, didn't.

'What happened?' Marinette said, both moving to sit side by side on the couch. Leaning forward, she picked up her mug— partially to warm up the sudden coldness in her hands, but more importantly to make sure she had something to stop her from reaching out and touching him.

He sighed, and she knew he was trying to gather the words. 'It was about five months after you left. Nathalie had been feeling unwell, and I started to panic that she had the same sickness as my mother did. She kept falling asleep and couldn't drink or eat what she had before...so we went to the doctors and found out she was pregnant.'

Marinette couldn't help the gasp. Nathalie and Gabriel. The shock gave way to a bizarre sense of relief.

'So,' he continued, taking his own drink and mirroring her actions. 'We worked together, and we prepared for this new little life coming into our world. Sure I wasn't exactly....thrilled...with the idea of Nathalie with my father, but I do know they cared for each other. It was rather bittersweet. With my father's death though, it was up to me to step in and become the man of the house.'

'And you did,' Marinette said, a soft smile crossing her lips.

He smiled back, a humourless laugh leaving his lips. 'I tried. We redecorated. We went shopping together for baby clothes and furniture. Not only that, but we were excited. The whole gang was...then...' Adrien stopped almost struggling to speak. Without another thought, Marinette shuffled closer and placed one hand on his forearm, a small gesture of reassurance to let him know she was there. One that caused her insides to light her up a lot brighter than she had in years.

'What happened Adrien?' Her voice was soft as she spoke, laced with sorrow and care.

He closed his eyes, breathing out slowly before opening them again, the glistening unavoidable. He placed his drink down on the coffee table, before moving back to take her hand in his. Nothing romantic, just a need for support.

'It all happened so quickly. One minute everything was going fine, Nathalie's waters had broken and Emily was on the way. Then, she was being rushed down to the emergency department, face covered in a mask and worried they wouldn't get Emily out in time.'

'But they did,' Marinette whispered, clutching his hand tighter. Nathalie was Adrien's second mother. She had been a big, important part of his life and to see her there, to watch her suffer then...she couldn't think about it. She couldn't think about how painful a day that must have been for him.

He nodded. 'They delivered Emily through an emergency C-section and took her straight to intensive care before pushing me out of the theatre as they tried to save Nathalie.'

Marinette looked at him, noticing the tears sat like a wild current in his usual vibrant green eyes, feeling her own filling in sympathy.

'Next, a doctor was telling me Nathalie had died, and that I was the sole carer for Emily—if I wanted to be. Because I was only eighteen, I think they thought I would bail. That I'd say she'd be better off if she was adopted. And maybe I should have done that—maybe she'd have a better life. But moments before the doctor had found me, I'd been in to see her. I'd looked at her tiny body all covered in tubes and fighting for her life, and knew what I needed to do. She was my sister. I was her only family—and she was mine.'

'You're amazing, Adrien.'

'I only did what any other person would do. I could make sure she was cared for and looked after instead of sending her off into the unknown. I had inherited so much from my mother and father, and owned the estate and the business. When Nathalie died, I was the sole heir to all her assets too, so I put them in a life fund for Emily and prayed it would be enough to make sure she has a good life away from everything I went through. I've been bringing her up with the help of the guys, but it's hard...really hard, and if it wasn't for your parents I don't know what I would have done. Sabine's kind of been my coach and Emily's honorary grandparents.'

It felt as though her parents had tried to make up for everything she hadn't done, carrying the burdens she hadn't even known existed. As if they'd anticipated the guilt she would feel, knowing she hadn't been there for Adrien. The weight of it pressed down on her, so powerful she wanted to sink to her knees and cry. She was angry at them for hiding the truth, but beneath the anger was a deep, consuming gratitude that they had been there for him when she wasn't.

She stroked her thumb over his knuckles, her mind adjusting to this new, older version of him. 'I'm grateful they helped you,' she murmured, voice thick with emotion. 'But I should have been here, Adrien. You should have told me. Someone should have. You and my parents kept this huge secret, and I was off worrying over the smallest things, completely blind to what you were dealing with.' Her voice softened, breaking. 'You were experiencing grief and joy at the same time, and I had no idea.'

He shook his head, grasping her hands tighter, almost as though he was grounding himself. 'And what would you have done? Come back and end up hating me because of the mess I became. It wasn't pretty for a long time, Marinette, I haven't been myself for a long time. If it wasn't for Sophia, I don't think I ever would be.'

The mention of his nanny's name sent a shiver running down her body. He'd said nothing was going on there, and she believed him, but that didn't stop the jealousy of another woman coming in to save the day. That was her job. It had always been her job. But once again, she wasn't good enough.

'Hey. Look at me.' He gave her hands a little tug, and she realised she'd been staring at the ground. She looked up, meeting his eyes, those familiar, vivid green eyes that seemed to see right through her. There was a softness there, an understanding that cut through all her confusion and guilt, as if he could sense every thought, every bit of turmoil that was unravelling inside her. His gaze held her, steady and grounding, as if he knew exactly what was pulling her under and was waiting, silently offering her a place to land.

At that moment, she felt exposed, as though he understood her unspoken regrets and doubts. His eyes held a quiet strength, an unspoken reassurance that somehow made her feel both comforted and completely undone. It shouldn't have been this way. She should be the one being there for him, not the other way around.

'I'm not your responsibility, Marinette. I have never been, and this was something I needed to do for myself. I needed to prove I could live, that I could survive without you there all the time. Maybe it could have been different if I knew you were Ladybug, but neither of us were willing to reveal, hence why we broke up.' She opened her mouth with a retort on the tip of her tongue when he held up one hand, stopping her. 'Listen, let's just ignore it for now. I don't want to drag you through the whole history of Emily. It's not the greatest story, and we've just met up again for the first time in far too long. Can we just catch up, please?'

She wasn't sure what to do. She had so many more questions to ask, not only to Adrien, but to her parents too. He looked drained though, almost as though just mentioning this segment of the past was enough to zap all the energy out of him. Holding onto all her questions, she locked them up ready for another day, and she prayed he would be trusting enough to give her the answers.

'So,' she said, changing the subject. 'What has Emily asked Santa for?'

*****

Adrien

Adrien hadn't expected it to be this easy to fall back into a rhythm with her, a rhythm that felt like slipping into an old, favourite song. He'd been prepared for awkward silences, for the heaviness of the time and distance between them to press in, but somehow it hadn't. They had settled into familiar roles, slipping in and out of old jokes and banter, letting Chat Noir and Ladybug bring out the parts of themselves that knew each other best. And now, somewhere between stories and laughter, the mugs of hot chocolate had quietly turned to glasses of mulled wine.

He wasn't sure exactly how they'd got here, leaning back on the couch, shoulders relaxed, her head tilted as she listened to him with that intense, unwavering attention she always had. The flicker of candlelight softened everything, casting her in a glow that made her look like a dream—a part of his past and yet right here in his present.

The mood had grown quieter now, the faint background sounds of Christmas tunes playing a perfect ambiance, and he found himself watching her in a way he hadn't in a long time. He could sense a question building, one that had been lingering in his mind since he'd first seen her again, but he hesitated, not wanting to break the warmth of the moment.

But time was passing quickly, and he wanted to bring it up now, before she left.

Finally, he took a breath and glanced up at her, his voice softer now. 'So... Johnny,' he said, careful to keep his tone light but feeling the weight of the question. 'What's he like?'

Marinette's eyes flickered, and he saw the briefest flash of surprise before she gave a small, thoughtful smile. She set her glass down, tracing a finger along the rim as she gathered her thoughts.

He felt a knot in his chest, a mixture of curiosity and something he couldn't quite name. He wasn't sure why he'd asked. Maybe he was hoping to understand the part of her life he'd missed, or maybe he just wanted to know the person who'd won her, who was lucky enough to call her his.

He noticed the way her face softened, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes he couldn't quite place. 'He really takes care of me,' she said, almost defensively, as though reassuring herself as much as him. 'I mean, sometimes he can be... intense, but it's only because he wants the best for me, you know? I sometimes forget that and end up jumping to conclusions or expecting more.'

Adrien leaned forward, watching her carefully. 'Intense? How?' he asked, his voice gentle, but laced with concern she didn't seem to notice.

'Oh, just little things,' she replied, waving her hand dismissively. 'Like, he's always telling me to let him handle the business side of things, so I don't "stress myself out". He says I get too distracted with the small stuff and need to stay focused on the bigger picture. And he's probably right—sometimes I don't even realise how much time I'm wasting on things. He's just... always there to remind me.'

Adrien's brows knit together, but he tried to keep his voice light. 'Remind you? Like... he's setting limits?'

'Not really limits,' she said, the defence creeping into her voice again. 'Just... guidance. He says I need to be careful about how I present myself and the decisions I make. Like the way I dress, or even who I spend time with. He thinks some people can be a bad influence on my reputation, and he just wants to make sure I stay on the right path.' She gave a small laugh, though it sounded strained. 'He says he can see things about people I don't, so I should trust him on this.'

Adrien's chest tightened, a strange mix of frustration and worry rising in him. 'And... that doesn't bother you?'

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to her wine glass. 'Well... no, I mean, he's only looking out for me. Sometimes I think he knows me better than I know myself.' She laughed lightly, but it lacked the usual warmth. 'Like, when he told me not to go to a gallery event last month. He thought it would just be a "distraction from my goals". And I guess he was right, that night I redesigned all the spring lines with his recommendations. He keeps me focused, helps me avoid wasting time on things that don't... benefit me.'

His jaw tightened as he listened, keeping his tone steady. 'That sounds... like a lot of control.'

Her eyes flickered, but she gave a faint smile. 'I mean, it's just who he is. He's direct and doesn't hold back, and I guess that can come across as harsh. But he just... he knows what's best for me, and he doesn't want me to fail.' She bit her lip, as if searching for the right words. 'Sometimes he says I'd be lost without him, and maybe he's right. He's got me so far.'

Adrien felt a knot tighten in his stomach. 'I'm glad you have support,' he managed, his voice careful, but he couldn't ignore the unease growing within him. The way she spoke of Johnny, the way her words seemed to brush over red flags—he wondered just how much of herself she'd slowly lost without even realising it.

Her expression brightened a little as she continued, though there was a tension just beneath the surface. 'He's been so focused lately—especially with the chance that the company might go to him... and me, I guess. There's so much pressure on him right now, Adrien. He works late almost every night, and he's always telling me how much is riding on his shoulders. I don't know how he does it.'

Adrien nodded, sensing there was more. 'That sounds intense. Are you two handling all of this together?'

She hesitated, running her fingers along the stem of her glass. 'Well, he tries to, but he's been frustrated with me. My assistants keep quitting, and Johnny says it's because I won't let him handle the hiring process. He says I'm too soft on people, that I'm always trying to be everyone's friend instead of focusing on what the company needs. It's just...' She sighed. 'It's hard not to feel like I'm the problem.'

His eyes softened as he listened. 'It's not on you to fix everything, Marinette. It sounds like he's taking on a lot himself.'

She nodded, though her smile was faint, almost sad. 'He is, but he says he has to. He keeps reminding me how much time he spends out there, schmoozing with competitors, going to dinners, meeting clients to make sure we stay ahead. Some nights he doesn't even come home because he's out so late handling things. I need to stop being so clingy.'

His chest tightened, worry settling deeper as she spoke. 'That must be hard on you,' he said quietly, hoping she'd open up a bit more.

She shrugged, forcing a smile. 'I mean, he tells me it's just temporary, that this is what it takes to succeed. He says once everything settles down, and we have control of the company, it'll be easier.' She paused, her voice growing softer. 'I guess I just have to trust him, you know? He always says he's doing this for us, that all the pressure, the hours, even the things he keeps me out of... they're for our future. Sometimes I don't see it, but he tells me he has to make the hard choices, so I can focus on the creative work.'

Adrien's heart ached as he listened, watching the way she tried to convince herself. 'Marinette,' he said gently, 'just make sure you're being taken care of too. It sounds like you're sacrificing a lot for... what he thinks is best.'

Her smile faltered, and she looked down, almost as if she were trying to hold onto something fragile. 'I know,' she murmured, but her voice held a tinge of doubt, as if she were no longer entirely certain what "best" even looked like.

He leaned forward, his tone gentle yet steady. 'You know if you ever have any questions about the business side of things—or if you just want another perspective—you can always ask me. I mean, I'm in the same industry. I know it can be a lot to navigate, and sometimes... an outside view can help.'

She glanced at him, surprise flickering in her eyes before a hint of tension settled in. She hesitated, clearly choosing her words carefully. 'That's... really nice of you, Adrien. But Johnny usually prefers that I don't reach out to others. Especially not the competition.' She let out a small, awkward laugh, as though trying to brush off the seriousness. 'He says it's just better if he's there to handle those conversations himself. He... doesn't really trust me not to, you know, mess things up.'

Adrien felt a surge of disbelief, and something heavier, as he absorbed her words. He kept his face calm, but he couldn't shake the growing sense that Johnny's "support" was much more controlling than she realised. He took a moment, wanting to make sure he didn't just come out with what a controlling, manipulative bastard Johnny was. 'I think you're more than capable of handling yourself in any conversation. You've always been one of the most thoughtful, creative, and determined people I know. I can't imagine you... messing anything up.'

She gave him a small smile, but there was a flash of discomfort in her expression, as if his words brought up something she was trying to ignore. 'Johnny just... he wants to make sure everything's done right. He says it's his way of helping. He knows how much my job means to me, and he says he's just making sure it's all secure.'

Adrien nodded slowly, sensing her reluctance to dig deeper. 'I understand. Just remember, though—if you ever need an outside opinion or a friend to listen, I'm here. You've never needed anyone to speak for you, Marinette. You're more than competent.'

She looked down, her smile fading slightly, and Adrien felt a pang of sadness watching her wrestle with feelings he could tell she wasn't ready to confront.

His words hung in the air, and he watched as her expression shifted, her eyes suddenly glistening. She quickly looked down, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her hand, a trembling smile breaking through.

Alarmed, he leaned closer, his voice gentle. 'Hey... I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry if I–'

She shook her head, giving a watery laugh. 'No, it's not that. It's just...' She hesitated, the vulnerability in her eyes catching him off guard. 'Nobody's believed in me like that in... a long time.'

His chest tightened. She must have someone over there who cares. 'What about your friends?' he asked, confused. 'You must have them, right?'

Her smile faltered, and she shook her head slightly. 'I don't... I don't really have anyone like that any more. I've been so focused on work, and Johnny says it's best to keep my professional life separate, to be cautious about who I spend time with. After a while, those who I did have...stopped reaching out.'

Adrien felt a pang in his chest, both sadness and disbelief welling up in him. She had drifted away from everyone, isolated and wrapped up in someone else's vision of her life. He took a deep breath, searching for the right words.

'Well, then... it's a good job you're home now, isn't it?' he said softly, reaching out and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. 'There are a lot of people here who care about you, Marinette. And... I'm one of them.'

A small, genuine smile broke through her tears, and Adrien felt a flicker of hope as he saw the faintest glimmer of her old self in her eyes. At that moment, he knew his words had reached her—just enough to remind her she wasn't alone.

'Thank you,' she whispered. His eyebrows pulled as he looked at her suspiciously.

'What for?'

'For always believing in me.'