Adrien

The morning of the gala arrived with a biting chill in the air, and Adrien was running on nothing but coffee and pure determination. The past couple of days had been a blur of worry and restless nights. He barely left Emily's side, staying with her in the living room where she insisted on sleeping, her little Bugaboo blanket wrapped tightly around her frail form.

But despite his vigilance, her condition hadn't improved. If anything, it had worsened.

Adrien stood in the doorway, watching as Emily stirred on the couch. Her face was pale, save for the bright flush high on her cheeks—a telltale sign her fever hadn't broken. Her chest rose and fell with a rasping unevenness that struck him like a dagger each time he heard it.

He hated this. He hated seeing her like this—so small, so fragile, and so unlike her usual spunky self. She hadn't even asked to watch Encanto today, a request that had become as routine as the sunrise. Instead, she barely moved, curled into a ball with her beloved comforter clutched tightly to her chest.

Sophia had also been under the weather for the past couple of days, and Adrien couldn't help but wonder if the sudden scratchiness in his throat was just paranoia—or if he'd caught whatever was going around too.

He crouched beside her, brushing a damp strand of hair from her forehead, his thumb lingering on the too-warm skin. His heart clenched. 'Hey, sweetpea,' he whispered, his voice catching despite his best efforts to sound calm. 'How're you feeling?'

She stirred, opening her eyes halfway. She tried to smile, but it faltered, and a small cough shook her body instead. 'Still sick...' she whispered, her voice so faint it was almost inaudible.

Adrien swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldn't leave her like this. He didn't care about the gala, didn't care about anything else. His sister came first, always.

But a voice echoed in his mind, unyielding: You can't keep putting your life on hold, Adrien. You're allowed to want things for yourself. And you deserve to have them.

He shook his head, standing up and running a hand through his hair in frustration. Wanting to go to the gala and spend the evening with Marinette—he couldn't help but feel selfish for even considering it. Emily needed him. She needed someone who would always choose her. She was a small child, for crying out loud.

'Adrien?'

He turned to see the doctor they'd called in, stepping in from the hallway, holding her medical bag. She gave him a small, reassuring smile. 'I've just finished going over her vitals. Emily's fever is high, but manageable. I've left explicit instructions for the sitter, and I'll be on call all night if anything changes.'

Adrien frowned. 'But she's so weak. What if—'

'Adrien,' the doctor interrupted gently. 'I understand your concern, but she's stable. You're doing everything right. She'll be in excellent hands for a few hours. And... you need to take care of yourself too. If you keep burning yourself out, how will you take care of her in the long run? Any issue, I'm sure whoever's looking after her will know what to do.'

Her words didn't entirely ease the tight coil of anxiety in his chest, but they resonated enough to make him reluctantly nod. 'Okay,' he said hoarsely.

As the doctor left, Adrien lingered for another moment, before moving to sit beside Emily and gently squeezing her hand. 'I'll be back soon. I promise.'

Her eyelids fluttered open briefly, and she gave him the faintest smile. 'You'll... have fun with her?' she murmured.

He froze, surprised. 'With who?'

She gave him a knowing look, one that made her seem older than her three years. 'Your princess,' she whispered before her eyes closed again.

His heart twisted painfully as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 'You're the real princess, Em,' he whispered. But her words stayed with him as he stood and made his way upstairs to get ready.

The next hour was a frenzy of motion as Adrien pulled himself together. Alya and Nino's arrival allowed Adrien to grab his suit, mentally cursing its wrinkled state. He wasn't sure how much of the chaotic energy coursing through him was stress and how much was the restless anticipation of seeing Marinette again.

The thought of her kept him grounded amidst the whirlwind of worry and guilt. Marinette—the girl who'd saved him in so many ways, even when she didn't know it. She was strength and warmth and light, and despite everything, the idea of being with her made him feel like he could breathe again.

But even with that, the lingering fear of leaving Emily clung to him. He adjusted his tie in the mirror before exhaling slowly, glancing at his watch. It was time.

Before leaving the room, he caught his reflection one last time. He looked presentable—polished even—but the worry in his eyes was unmistakable. He only hoped Marinette would understand. And more than that, he hoped tonight would be a new beginning.

He descended the stairs, still adjusting his cufflinks, to find Alya and Nino in the living room with Emily. His little sister looked marginally better under Alya's attentive care–her Bugaboo settled over her shoulder. Alya sat cross-legged on the couch beside her, holding up a cup of warm chamomile tea as Emily dutifully sipped.

'Ah, here comes the prince,' Alya teased as he entered, her sharp eyes taking in his suit. 'Looking good, Agreste.'

He rolled his eyes lightly, but couldn't suppress the faint grin that tugged at his lips. 'Thanks for coming, you two. I really appreciate it.'

Nino waved him off, leaning back in one armchair. 'Anything for you, bro. Besides, who else would Emily tolerate fussing over her? Alya's a pro at this.'

Emily tugged on Alya's sleeve and looked up with her big, fever-bright eyes. 'Adrien needs to go see his princess,' she declared with absolute certainty, her little voice firm. 'That's how I get my "happily ever after".'

Adrien froze for a moment, his heart clenching as Alya laughed and kissed the top of Emily's head. 'You're too smart for your own good, kid.'

Emily's brows furrowed in mock seriousness. 'I not a goat.'

Adrien snorted, Alya raising a questioning eyebrow in his direction.

With a hand on her cheek, Emily turned her back to face her. 'He needs to go. He can't make her wait.'

'Alright, alright,' Alya chuckled, standing up and scooping Emily into her arms as she noticed the child squirming. 'But first, this princess needs a potty break.'

'I'm not a princess!' Emily grumbled, though her sleepy smile said otherwise as Alya carried her out of the room.

With the two of them gone, the living room fell quiet, save for the faint sounds of Christmas music drifting from the television. Adrien ran a hand through his hair, adjusting his tie for the tenth time, and plopped down on the couch with a sigh.

'Bro, you good?' Nino asked, leaning forward with a knowing look.

Adrien hesitated, then let out a long breath. 'I don't know, man. It's been a crazy couple of days. Emily being sick, this gala, Marinette...' He trailed off, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

'Marinette,' Nino repeated with a smirk. 'You mean your princess?'

Adrien groaned, sinking deeper into the couch. 'Not you too.'

'Hey, Emily's got a point,' Nino said, his tone shifting to something softer. 'Look, I know this isn't exactly unfamiliar territory for you, having feelings for her. But it's different this time, isn't it?'

Adrien nodded, his gaze fixed on the floor. 'Yeah, it is. She's... she's everything. She always has been. But now? After everything she's been through, everything we've both been through... It feels heavier, more real. Like, if I mess this up, I'm not just losing her—I'm losing us. For good.'

Nino leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. 'And you're scared.'

'Terrified,' Adrien admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. 'It's not just me that it affects this time.'

Nino let the silence stretch for a moment before clapping a hand on Adrien's shoulder. 'Dude, you've got nothing to be scared of. Marinette's been in your corner since day one. And yeah, life's thrown both of you some serious curveballs, but if anyone can handle this, it's you two. Trust me, she's not going to let you down. And neither will you.'

Adrien looked up, meeting Nino's steady gaze. The reassurance in his friend's eyes was like a lifeline, grounding him amidst the swirling doubts in his mind. 'Thanks, Nino,' he breathed.

'Anytime, man,' Nino said with a grin. 'Now, go sweep her off her feet. It's about time she came back home.'

Adrien let out a soft laugh, the tension in his chest easing slightly. 'I'm going. Just... keep an eye on Emily, okay? Call me if anything changes.'

'You got it,' Nino said, standing and holding out a fist for Adrien to bump. 'Now go. Your happily ever after isn't going to wait forever.'

Adrien smiled, grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, and headed for the door. But as he stepped out into the chilly night, Nino's words stayed with him, sparking a quiet, unshakeable determination.

He stepped into the grand lobby of the Bourgeois hotel, the hum of holiday chatter, clinking glasses, and soft piano melodies filling the air. He shrugged off his coat at the check-in desk without a second thought, his eyes already scanning the sweeping staircase ahead.

And then he saw her.

Marinette stood at the top of the staircase, her hands brushing nervously along the smooth fabric of her crimson dress. The bold, daring color enveloped her curves, seemingly tailored to her—or rather, as if she herself had created it. She bit her lower lip, a soft gesture that was so utterly her, and the sight hit Adrien like a lightning strike.

The world around him blurred.

He took her in, head to toe—the delicate line of her collarbone framed by the dress's low back, the thin black chain adding exquisite detail, the way the gold lighting caught the shimmer of her earrings, the loose tendrils of dark hair framing her flushed cheeks. But it wasn't just her beauty. It was the nervous energy that radiated from her, the way she shifted slightly on her heels: unsure and hesitant. It was the Marinette he'd always known and the Marinette who had grown into this stunning woman, all wrapped into one heart-stopping vision.

His heart clenched painfully in his chest. Every fibre of his being screamed that this—this woman—was where his heart belonged.

He took a breath, steadying himself as his legs moved without permission. Step after step, the room fell away. His only focus was the woman at the top of the staircase. Her eyes lifted to meet his, widening slightly in recognition, and his chest tightened further. There was a question in her gaze, tentative but hopeful, and he couldn't leave it unanswered any longer.

Reaching her at the top, Adrien stopped in front of her. For a moment, he simply looked at her, committing every detail to memory—the gentle rise and fall of her breath, the way her lips parted as if to speak, and the faint scent of vanilla and roses that always lingered around her.

Without thinking, he leaned in, his hand brushing her elbow for balance, and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her cheek. He didn't rush it. He wasn't hesitant. It was deliberate—a whisper of everything he felt but hadn't yet said. He stayed close for a beat longer than necessary, his lips barely brushing her skin, before pulling back.

Her breath hitched, her cheeks flushing a deeper pink, and Adrien swore his heart was on fire.

The words he'd been rehearsing for days tangled in his throat. 'You look...' His voice came out rougher than intended. 'Marinette, you're... breathtaking.'

And then, all at once, the emotions he'd been holding back surged forward. Every late-night thought, every lingering glance, every ache of longing—it all burned behind his green eyes as he gazed at her.

This was it. Tonight, he would tell her. No more hesitation, no more waiting. But for now, he allowed himself one more second to soak her in, to marvel at how, somehow, against all odds, she was here, and he was here, and they were standing together at the edge of something that felt like fate.

*****
Marinette

There were many things in life Marinette would remember, and the way Adrien looked at her that night would certainly be one. Her heart was struggling to contain itself, as the man who'd always been her number one looked as though no other woman in the world could ever compare. And the most special thing was, she knew there wouldn't be, not in his eyes. The feeling was powerful, and all-consuming, and she loved it.

She loved him. Head over heels. Growing old together, getting a mortgage together in love with him. How could she ever think that life without him was living? She was barely existing.

They transformed the ballroom of the Bourgeois Hotel into a shimmering winter wonderland. Twinkling fairy lights draped from the high ceilings, casting a warm glow over the crowd. A massive Christmas tree stood proudly in one corner, adorned with golden baubles, candy canes, and a shining silver star at the top. The soft hum of Christmas carols transitioned into lively swing tunes as couples took to the dance floor, their laughter mingling with the clink of glasses and cheerful conversations.

They were at the heart of it all, their smiles reflecting the festive spirit around them. His hand rested lightly on her back as they weaved through the crowd, stopping to chat with familiar faces and exchanging holiday greetings. Her earlier nerves had melted away as Adrien made her laugh with his jokes and effortless charm. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this carefree.

Marinette caught Kagami's eye as they entered the ballroom, and her friend's face lit up in recognition. Without hesitation, she tugged Adrien along, weaving through the crowd until she reached her.

'Kagami! You look incredible!' she exclaimed, wrapping her in a warm hug.

Kagami's dress was a masterpiece of timeless elegance, perfectly tailored to her statuesque form. The rich black fabric shimmered subtly under the ballroom lights, its sleek lines hugging her figure with precision. The gown was sleeveless, with a high neckline that dipped into a graceful keyhole cutout, offering just a hint of sophistication. It flared slightly at her ankles, where the fabric swished softly as she moved.

Her long black gloves completed the look, their satin sheen catching the light as they extended up her arms, stopping just above the elbow. Minimalist yet striking, they added an air of old-Hollywood glamour, contrasting beautifully with her short, jet-black hair and crimson lips.

Her presence was magnetic, exuding strength and refinement, as though she'd stepped out of a vintage photograph and into the modern-day gala.

'Marinette,' Kagami replied, her voice softer than usual but full of genuine affection. 'You look... stunning.' She pulled back, giving her a once-over with an approving smile. 'Did you make the dress yourself?'

She blushed, smoothing a hand over the fabric. 'I did. But it almost didn't happen. I convinced myself I couldn't pull it off.

Kagami shook her head. 'You underestimate yourself, as always. It's perfect. You're perfect.' Her tone carried an edge of exasperation, but her fondness for Marinette was unmistakable.

Adrien squeezed her hand before stepping back. 'I'll go grab us some drinks,' he said, leaving the two women alone.

Kagami crossed her arms, her smile softening. 'I'm glad you're home, Marinette.'

The sincerity in her voice made Marinette pause. 'I'm glad I'm home, too. I missed Paris... I missed my friends. I missed you.'

'You have no idea,' Kagami replied, her gaze steady. 'It hasn't been the same without you. And honestly? It's about time you stopped running.'

She looked down, her fingers brushing the fabric of her dress. 'I wasn't running, exactly...' she started, but Kagami raised an eyebrow, silencing her.

'You were,' she said bluntly, though not unkindly. 'And I get it. Sometimes you need space to breathe, to figure things out. But the Marinette I know doesn't hide from her problems. She faces them. And I'm glad she's finally back.'

Her throat tightened at Kagami's words. 'It wasn't just about needing space,' she admitted. 'It was... everything. I wasn't sure I could handle it all, but now? It feels right to be here again.'

Kagami smiled warmly. 'And you're stronger for it. I can see it.'

Before Marinette could respond, Félix appeared beside them, a small glass of champagne in his hand. His sharp green eyes appraised her dress with an approving nod. 'Marinette,' he drawled. 'I must say, you've outdone yourself. This dress is... timeless. Elegant. Classy.'

'Thank you, Félix,' Marinette replied, slightly surprised by the genuine compliment.

He tilted his head, a calculating smile playing on his lips. 'De Vanily could use a head designer with your talent. Have you considered branching out into haute couture? I'd be more than willing to make introductions.'

Kagami raised a curious eyebrow, but Marinette only laughed nervously. 'I don't think I'm there just yet. I'll stick to designing for myself for now. But thank you.'

He took a small sip of his champagne, his gaze lingering on her with faint amusement. "Well, you never know what the future might hold."

With that, he tipped his glass slightly in a mock toast and sauntered away, leaving her staring after him.

'What was that about?' Kagami asked, clearly unimpressed by Félix's theatrics.

'I don't know. He's your boyfriend,' Marinette murmured, her brows furrowing. 'But I can't help feeling like he's planning something.'

Kagami smirked, patting her arm. 'It's Félix. He's always planning something.'

The girls continued talking until some investors pulled Kagami away, leaving Marinette alone at the edge of the room. She glanced around, noting the usual faces, Chloé Bourgeois, Zoé Lee, but Adrien seemed to have disappeared. She carried on searching, looking for her date.

She moved around the room with effortless grace, almost believing she belonged there. But the festive cheer of the ballroom dimmed in her mind the moment Ivy Valence entered the ballroom. Draped in a daring emerald gown that clung to her like a second skin, Ivy turned heads as she stepped gracefully into the room. But it wasn't just the striking dress or the calculating smile she wore that froze Marinette in place—it was the man on her arm.

Johnny Monroe.

The world seemed to tilt for a moment as her blood ran cold. Of course, he would show up here. Her fingers tightened around the stem of her champagne glass. His usual smarmy charm was on full display, his tailored suit sharp and his smile sharper. He leaned down to say something into Ivy's ear, causing her to laugh, the sound grating against Marinette's nerves.

For a moment, her chest tightened, old memories clawing at the edges of her mind. But then her gaze shifted across the room, finally catching Adrien in conversation, his golden hair gleaming under the chandelier lights. The sight steadied her, a reminder of everything good she had fought for, of the warmth and love she had finally reclaimed.

Still, her jaw set in determination. Johnny wasn't ruining this night. Not for her, and not for anyone else.

She didn't waste another second. She placed her glass on the nearest table, her heels clicking purposefully as she crossed the ballroom. Her destination was clear—Adrien. He was mid-conversation with some designer she'd crossed paths with once or twice, when her hand gently brushed his forearm, drawing his attention instantly.

'Hey,' she said softly, her voice calm but her eyes carrying a storm. 'Do you want to get out of here?'

He tilted his head slightly, his brows knitting in concern as he read her expression. But then his gaze shifted past her shoulder, and she knew exactly what—or rather who—he saw.

His jaw tensed, his entire posture changing as his eyes locked on Johnny standing across the room with Ivy. His hand instinctively flexed at his side, his protective instincts kicking in as he stepped forward, and she was terrified he'd transform and turn them into nothing more than dust.

'Adrien, no.' Her hand tightened on his arm, her voice firmer this time. She stepped in front of him, her eyes pleading as she looked up at him. 'Please, don't. He's not worth it.'

'He shouldn't even be here,' Adrien muttered, his voice low and simmering with anger. His green eyes burned as he watched Johnny, a rare and unfamiliar fire in their depths. Now probably wasn't the time to consider how hot he looked.

'What is their problem? She knows I'm here with you, so why would she come with him? And why the hell is he here? After everything he's done—'

'And that's exactly why we don't give them the satisfaction,' she cut in, her voice steady but gentle. 'This is our night, Adrien. I won't let them ruin it, and neither should you.'

For a moment, he didn't move, the tension in his body palpable. Then, with a deep breath, he shifted his focus back to her. The storm in his eyes softened as he saw her resolve, her hand still firmly on his arm as if anchoring him.

'You're right,' he said quietly, his voice dipping into something tender. 'I'm sorry. I just—he doesn't deserve to be anywhere near you.'

'And he's not,' she reassured him, her lips curving into a small smile. 'I'm here with you. That's all that matters.'

He nodded, his expression easing. Then he leaned closer, his voice dropping so only she could hear. 'Let's go. Just you and me.'

Her smile grew as relief washed over her. She laced her fingers with his, the warmth of his hand grounding her. Together, they turned towards the exit, leaving Johnny and Ivy behind without so much as a second glance. This was their night, and nothing—and no one—was going to take that away from them.