Adrien's letter was practically burning Marinette's back through her bookbag.

She went through her whole study hall period in the library staring blankly at it on the table where she had sat, unsure of what to think of it; unsure of what to do with it. Was she supposed to just be unfazed by the fact that Adrien had written her a letter? Adrien didn't write letters. He wasn't much of a writer. She knew that because he was one of the dryest texters she knew.

But he'd written a letter... for her?

Marinette didn't really know how to process that. To say she wasn't absolutely terrified of what lay inside that envelope would have been a lie.

Which was why she hadn't opened it.

"What do you mean Adrien wrote you a letter?" Alya probed skeptically as the two headed down the school steps together. The school day had finally come to an end and Marinette was ready to get home as soon as possible. "That sounds... suspicious."

"I guess we know what he was typing on that laptop." Marinette chuckled dryly.

It only made sense that he had written the letter when she had seen him and Chloé sitting together outside. He'd been using Chloé's laptop—she knew that because there was no way Adrien would own a hot pink laptop. He must have slipped the letter into her locker while she'd been in history.

More students flooded down the steps from behind, swerving around them, just as eager to get home after a long day of school.

Alya hiked her backpack further up her shoulders when someone knocked into her, almost sending her books flying. She glared at the back of their head as they passed. "Okay but why? Why would Adrien write you a letter? What did he want?"

"I... I don't know actually," Marinette admitted with a shrug. "I haven't read it."

Alya's eyes narrowed skeptically as she asked, "Are you going to read it?"

A part of her wanted to... but the rational side of her was very tempted to discard it into the nearest trashcan and never look back. But... even though Adrien writing a letter was completely out of the ordinary... it made sense for him to do it. It was the only way for him to communicate with her without overstepping the boundary she had created.

He hadn't tried to talk to her. He hadn't even handed it to her. He had slipped it into her locker knowing that when she found it, she would have the choice to either read it or discard it.

He was giving her the choice. He was letting her decide.

"I don't know yet," Marinette shrugged again. "Maybe."

"Do you really think that's a good idea?" Alya asked cautiously, "You're just starting to find your footing again. I don't know if talking with Adrien is the best thing for you right now."

"Who said I was going to respond?" Marinette said, feeling somewhat offended that Alya would think she would just jump right back into the black hole she'd struggled so hard just to climb out of.

"Marinette... I know you..." Alya's eyes held an apology she had yet to give. "And as much as I love you, I wouldn't put it past you. Adrien has always had an emotional hold on you, and I know you know that."

Marinette averted her gaze and scoffed, folding her arms across her chest as she did so. "I'm a lot stronger than you think, Alya."

"That's not what I meant, Marinette."

She shouldered past her best friend when Alya tried to place a hand on her shoulder, suddenly wishing to put some distance between them. She heard Alya call out to her from behind, clearly pleading with her, but Marinette ignored her. In a way, she knew Alya was just acting in concern, but for Alya to think that she would so easily go back to Adrien over a letter was very hurtful.

Marinette had no intention of rekindling anything romantic with Adrien. The only thing she ever planned to do was allow him to have a relationship with their child. That was it.

She had gone through too much pain to even reconsider that decision.

And... she wasn't as weak as Alya thought her to be when it concerned Adrien.

Sure, maybe she still loved him in some strange way. Maybe she even pictured a 'what if' scenario of them happily being a family. But Marinette wasn't an idiot. She knew what truly lay ahead in the world of reality.

Even if it wasn't what she truly wanted.

Marinette hiked her bookbag further up her shoulders as she stubbornly marched down the sidewalk. She kept her head low, mindful that only several feet away, Adrien was getting into his car, eyeing her worriedly as he did so. She could see his concern as clear as day out of the corner of her eye... and she wasn't about to acknowledge it. She continued walking, pretending as if she didn't know he was there, even as he rolled up his tinted window and drove off.

Droplets of rain started to decorate the pavement just as she made it home. The sky rumbled above her as she pushed open the bakery door, the bell chiming above the threshold as she did so.

Her father looked up at her from behind the counter and smiled, "There's my favorite daughter!"

Despite her sour mood, a smile pulled at Marinette's lips as she rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm your only daughter, papa."

"And that's why you're my favorite!"

She offered him another eye-roll and snorted.

"So, how was your first day back at school?" He probed playfully, genuinely eager to hear about her day. Then his eyes drifted down to her stomach, which still looked flat underneath her baggy hoodie. "You haven't been feeling nauseous today, have you? I already prepared some tea if you are—"

"The baby is fine, papa." Marinette chuckled fondly. Her father's concern was truly a sweet gesture, even if she sometimes found him to be a bit overbearing in his worry. "And I'm fine too. I haven't been feeling any nausea yet."

"That's because you're having a girl." Sabine chimed in as she stepped into the bakery, tying her white apron behind her back.

"Nonsense. She's having a boy!" Her father insisted before she could even interject.

"Boys are the ones that make the mother nauseous. I'm telling you, it's a girl."

"That's just a superstition. I'm certain it's a boy!"

"Want to bet on it?"

"Can we not bet about the gender of my baby?" Marinette pleaded as she watched her parents literally shake hands on a bet about how whoever lost would have to change her baby's diapers for a whole month.

Her mother chuckled softly and shoved her husband playfully. He didn't budge an inch, which had even Marinette giggling when her parents burst into laughter themselves.

Sabine merely poked her husband in the chest. "I can't wait to see the look on your face when I'm right."

"Yeah, yeah." Tom chuckled as he swatted her hand away. He then turned back to attend to the money tray.

Sabine turned to face her daughter once more and smiled, "Speaking of nausea, if you haven't experienced any by now, it's possible you might not at all. You've already reached three months and usually nausea takes place during the first three months."

Marinette looked down at her stomach and frowned, "Should I be feeling nauseous? Is it bad that I'm not?"

"Not everyone does." Her mother assured her, her smile soft. "You have nothing to worry about. I didn't experience any nausea when I was pregnant with you."

"Well... that's good I guess." Marinette wasn't even certain of her own words. She shrugged her shoulders afterward, truly lost on what else she could say in response to her mother's words. In most instances, perhaps that was something to be glad about. But this wasn't most instances.

A gentle hand came on her shoulder, causing her to glance back into her mother's eyes. Her gaze held nothing but sympathy, love, and even understanding. "Marinette... I know you have been asked this repeatedly, but are you still certain this is what you want?"

"Of course this is what I want." Marinette pulled away from her mother's grasp as if she had been burned. A look of hurt flashed across her mother's face, and Marinette felt guilty for being the cause of it, but she couldn't find it in herself to apologize at that moment. "It's a bit late to ask me that now, don't you think?"

"Of course not." Her mother assured her gently, "Adoption is always an option—"

"I will not give my baby away to a complete stranger."

"It was only a suggestion, honey." Sabine looked over to her husband as if she were silently asking for his help. He met her gaze from where he stood at the register, but he said nothing. Her sights turned back to her daughter. "I just want you to be aware that if this is too much for you to bear, there are other options. You're young, and I know you have dreams. Raising a baby is a lot of responsibility—"

"I know how much of a responsibility it is—"

"—And I just want to make sure that you are prepared to take on such a responsibility. That you are prepared for all of the sacrifices you will have to make."

"I know all the sacrifices I will have to make," Marinette folded her arms across her chest before her gaze timidly drifted over toward her father. "Which is why I want to drop out of school."

"What?" Her father's eyes widened in absolute shock and horror. Then, his expression morphed into anger. "Absolutely not. You will not drop out of school."

"Why not?!"

"Because you're about to graduate!"

"I don't care about a fucking diploma!"

Sabine gasped, "Marinette, language!"

"You should care about your diploma," Tom said dangerously low. "Especially when you have a child who is going to depend on you to get a job that will be able to supply you both."

Marinette let out a bitter laugh. "So you're not going to help me? Is that what you're saying?"

"That's nonsense, Marinette, and you know it." Her mother scolded. "You know we have every intention of helping you, and you know very well what your father means. You know you can't stay here forever. You should prepare for when that day comes."

"Ugh, enough about preparation!" Marinette threw her hands up in the air, beyond frustrated. "Maybe I don't know how to prepare for my unsure future. Maybe I don't know what I want to do after high school. Is that such a crime?"

"Last I heard, you had it all planned out." Her father narrowed his eyes at her as he folded his arms across his chest. "What happened to wanting to be a designer?"

Another bitter laugh escaped her lips before she could help it. "I haven't touched my sewing machine in months. Do you honestly think I will have time for that when I'm about to become a mother?"

"Marinette, if you wanted to go to a university and study fashion, we would do everything in our power to make that possible for you," Sabine assured her sternly. "It might be hard to do so with a baby, but it wouldn't be impossible. Your support system is filled with people who will gladly help you reach your dreams. You need to stop putting limits on yourself."

"I'm not putting limits on myself. I'm just being realistic." Marinette argued. "I have different priorities now. This baby—" her hand came up to rest on her barely showing stomach. "—is my only priority. I only care about giving this baby the best life possible."

"And how do you plan to do that if you drop out of school and don't take the BAC exam?" Her father arched an unamused brow at that. "Do you think the money you will need to support this baby will just fall into your lap?"

"Tom, please." Sabine chastised.

"No," Tom shooed his wife's hand away when she tried to place it on his bicep, and he never once took his eyes off of Marinette as he did so. "Since our daughter is being realistic, I figured it was appropriate to ask her a realistic question."

Marinette raised her chin at him. "I'm already working at the bakery—"

"With a salary that we pay you." He reminded her coldly. It was enough to have the whole room chilled. "Your mother and I will not be supporting you and this baby forever. When you graduate, which you will, you will have to find another job to support yourself and the baby. I would like to believe that you are smart enough to take your mother's advice and attend university. With all the potential I know you have, it would be a shame if you didn't."

Marinette wasn't given a chance to even voice the rebuttal on the tip of her tongue. Her father was out of the bakery faster than the blink of an eye, ascending the stairs to their apartment so loudly that his footsteps could be clearly heard even until he reached the second story.

Her eyes raised to the ceiling of the bakery, as if she could picture her father's every step, and scoffed. All this time, she figured she would be able to rely on her parents in the sense that she could still live here with her baby. That they could all live together. But it seemed her father had a different idea regarding the matter. It seemed that he was expecting her to move out after she finished school. Or at least after she landed herself a stable job.

But what if she didn't want to live alone with just her baby? What if she still wanted to live with her parents? Was that really such a horrible thing to want?

A sudden, scary feeling caused her stomach to churn. And that was the scary thought of being alone. Of her and her baby living all alone.

A few tears trickled down her cheek before she realized she was crying. Her gaze lowered, finding her mother's concerned gaze. When their eyes met and Sabine realized her daughter was crying, she tried to reach out and comfort her, but Marinette quickly evaded her by taking a step back. With eyes blown wide in embarrassment and fear, Marinette retreated up the stairs to the apartment, regardless of her mother's pleas for her to wait.

The door opened and slammed behind her. Her father was seated on the couch with his head in his hands. He didn't acknowledge her as she stormed past. She let the trapdoor to her bedroom slam shut behind her.

She was met with an empty, dark room. Tikki emerged from Marinette's purse, offering her holder a look of concern, but for once, chose not to address that concern with words. Marinette was thankful for the silence. No amount of encouragement from Tikki would make her feel any better at that moment.

Instead, her tear-filled gaze drifted towards her bookbag, which she had practically thrown across the room when she'd gotten up there. A few of her books had spilled out onto the floor, including Adrien's letter.

Marinette stared at that particularly for a good long minute before she determinedly marched towards it and plucked it from the floor.

She ripped open the envelope without a second thought and was greeted with a long, typed-up page of words from the father of her child. There were so many words on the page that her eyes widened in surprise. She never knew Adrien was capable of expressing so many words at once.

Her eyes slowly lowered to the beginning of the letter. 'Dear Marinette...' was typed as the introduction. He used nothing but her name. No pet names, no nicknames. Just Marinette, which meant that whatever followed was written in utmost seriousness. She inhaled slowly and then exhaled a heavy breath. She could do this. She could read this.

Her eyes lowered even further, and with that, she began to read.

Dear Marinette,

I wanted to start this letter off by apologizing. There's only so many times a person can say they're sorry, but those are just words. I want my actions to match them. I want you to see that I truly mean it... even if you decide to never forgive me. If you decide you won't and truly don't want me in your life anymore, then this will be the last you will ever hear from me. But before you make your decision, I wanted to make sure that you've heard every bit of truth that you deserve.

The truth is... that I care very deeply for you. I don't fully understand all that my heart desires, but I do know that I want you in my life... however you'll have me. I know I have meddled with your heart, and that's not something I want to do again. I have uncertainties when it comes to what I want romantically, and because of this, it wasn't fair of me to pursue you as Adrien, let alone as Chat Noir. I know I told you that I was in love with Ladybug, and I know that isn't fair. You deserve so much more than me not being able to decide who I want.

Marinette's gut twisted once again as she read that last line. Was Adrien admitting that he did like her beyond his attraction? That he actually did want her?

If only he knew that she and Ladybug were one and the same.

But who was to say that would even make a difference? After all, her biggest fear was that Adrien would only want Marinette because she was Ladybug.

She continued reading, even though her eyes started to well up with more tears.

I want you to know that I'm truly ashamed of what I've done. I'm so sorry that I left so abruptly the morning you found out I was Chat Noir. My actions were inexcusable and I should've stayed. I can only say that I was scared. I let my fears get the best of me. I'm sorry that I asked for things to go back to the way they were. The truth is, even I knew that would be impossible.

Despite my uncertainties in some areas, there are a few things I know I want. I know that I want you in my life. I know that I want us to be friends again. I know that I want to do everything in my power to make it up to you. I know that I owe you that and more.

I want us to start on a clean slate. I want us to rebuild what we had and more. But I want the choice to be ultimately yours. If you want that too, let's talk about it, face-to-face. If you don't want that, then you can throw away this letter and I promise that will be the end. I will give you what you want and leave you alone, I swear it.

But I just want you to know that I do love you, Marinette, and you're important to me. I'm so sorry that I treated you the way I did. If you choose to never speak to me again, then I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me one day.

Love, Adrien.

The tears freely fell before she could even consider stopping them. Despite how much he had hurt her; despite how much she was angry at him, Marinette knew his words were genuine. She knew he meant every single one of them.

What she didn't know was what she should do next.

Should she really consider starting on a clean slate like he had suggested? Marinette knew talking to him was inevitable—she would have to tell him about the baby sooner or later and his letter was the perfect opportunity to meet up with him and tell him just that. But was that all she wanted to talk about? Did she want to start anew?

Marinette could already hear Alya's nagging voice scoffing at her, claiming that she was right, that Marinette was weak when it concerned Adrien. That she was running back to him without a second thought and risking heartbreak once again. But perhaps the only way she could properly heal was if she patched things up with Adrien. If she didn't, Adrien wouldn't have any part in the baby's life because she was certain they would always be butting heads.

In a split-second decision, Marinette pulled out her phone and sent a text to Adrien.

She would be damned if she let Alya dictate her every decision when it concerned Adrien, her baby, or any other choice concerning her future. Those were her choices to make.

When can we talk?

His response was practically immediate. It was almost as if he had been standing by his phone waiting for her text.

Whenever you want. You pick the time and the place. I'll be there.

_______________________________

Marinette and Adrien are finally going to talk. That's going to be a heavy chapter to write. Do you think Marinette is making all the right decisions? What do you think about her fight with her parents?

Feed me your thoughts please. I'm eager to hear them.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Stay tuned for the next one!

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