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Chat Noir landed in the alley behind the Italian restaurant. Checking to make sure no one was looking, he ducked behind a dumpster to detransform. A moment later, Adrien Agreste, noted attorney and philanthropist, tore out of the alley at a dead run, swerved to avoid a pedestrian with a baby stroller, and entered the restaurant.
“I’m with the Dupain-Cheng party,” he told the host. “Table for three?”
Marinette was sitting alone when Adrien arrived at the table. Only the half-eaten plate of veggie pasta in front of the chair beside her told Adrien that his daughter had been there at all. Emma was experimenting with vegetarianism.
Adrien dropped into the seat across from Marinette and sighed. “Missed her, didn’t I?”
Marinette nodded. “You know she had that violin lesson.”
Adrien ran a hand through his shoulder-length blond hair. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.”
“We saw the news footage of Chat Noir stopping that bus crash,” Marinette continued, lowering her voice. “She knows you’re never late on purpose.”
Adrien’s shoulders slumped. “But I am late. All the time.”
Marinette took a bite of garlic bread. “I was just as bad before I gave up the earrings. It’s hard to draw that line.”
“I know,” said Adrien. In that moment, the cracks in his family felt wider than ever.
He and Marinette had spent their teenage years as two halves of a whole, yin and yang. Even now, her emotions were as easy for him to read as his own. So when they’d revealed their identities to each other after Monarch’s defeat, everything had seemed to make sense. With the collapse of his father’s pedestal, Adrien had a new star to orbit around.
The first five years of their marriage had been easy enough. They’d scheduled chores and patrols like clockwork, each picking up the slack where the other faltered. They were the perfect team, so of course they were the perfect couple. Until, abruptly, they weren’t.
The fights began even before Emma was born.
Marinette wanted to cut back on their roles as superheroes. She was even considering beginning the search for replacements.
Adrien wanted to keep his ring. He wanted to keep Plagg. More than that, he wanted to have all the power he needed to make Paris a safe city for his little girl to call home.
Emma was four when her daycare sent home a bill for accumulated late pickup fees. The fight that night was one of Adrien’s worst memories.
Ladybug and Chat Noir gave a short press conference the next week to announce that Ladybug—and only Ladybug—was retiring. Divorce proceedings began the same day.
“Excuse me.” A teenage waiter with bright red hair had approached the table. “Are you ready to order, sir?”
Adrien shook himself. “I’d like a few more minutes, please,” he said, twisting the ring on his finger.
Marinette was watching him with an all-too-familiar crease in her forehead. Adrien wanted to tell her that he was fine, but she would have easily spotted the lie.
When the waiter was safely out of earshot, Marinette leaned forward, taking Adrien’s hand. Their hands still fit together like puzzle pieces. Adrien felt a surge of mingled comfort and guilt.
“Giving up my earrings was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done,” said Marinette. “I was terrified of failing Paris, of failing you. Part of me wondered if it was the first step on the path to becoming one of those stay-at-home moms with no adult friends or hobbies.” She squeezed Adrien’s hand. “But now, when I look at my life, at our daughter, I’m so proud of everything I’ve accomplished. I’m happy, even without the earrings. You could—”
“I know,” said Adrien, letting go of Marinette’s hand and opening his menu. Italian cuisine wasn’t his favorite, but Emma loved this restaurant. “And you know I can’t. The city needs—”
“Damn the city.” Marinette’s voice was shaking. “What about what you need? You’ve lost weight, you’re cancelling hangouts with Nino, and you can’t even make it to lunch with your daughter! Look at your life, Adrien. Is this what you wanted?” She blinked quickly, holding back tears. “Do you want to know the worst part?”
Adrien couldn’t look at her. He studied the restaurant’s sandwich offerings with unseeing eyes.
“The worst part,” Marinette continued, “Is that every time we schedule an outing and you don’t show up, I have to watch Emma get excited. And then—” She wiped her eyes on her napkin. “—and then I have to watch her face fall as she realizes you aren’t coming. Again.”
Adrien dug a wad of cash out of his wallet and set it on the table to pay for the meal. “I can’t have this conversation with you,” he said. “I’m sorry, Marinette. You know I’m sorry.”
Marinette turned away from him. “Then do something about it,” she said in a choked voice. “This isn’t working. Not for any of us.”
Adrien was glad she’d turned away. He didn’t want to read her expression any more than she wanted to read his. Perhaps there was such a thing as knowing a person too well. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “Tell Emma I said happy birthday.”
He didn’t let the tears fall until he was back in the alley, shielded by trash cans. Then, slumped against a heavily graffitied brick wall, Adrien Agreste sobbed until his throat was raw. His chest ached.
“How can I fix this?” he said to Plagg, but Plagg didn’t answer. The back door of the restaurant was opening.
“Sir?” It was the red haired waiter. He closed the door behind him and squatted next to Adrien. “I came out to thank you for the generous tip, but are you okay?” He offered Adrien a handful of paper napkins.
Adrien wiped his eyes and blew his nose. It helped. “I’ve been better,” he admitted. Seeing the waiter glance nervously at the door, he added, “Do you need to go back in?”
“Soon,” said the waiter. “This isn’t exactly a manager-approved break, but sometimes you need to put other people first, you know?” He dug around in the pocket of his apron. “Here. Complimentary mint for your thoughts, sir?”
Adrien couldn’t help it. He laughed. Even as he laughed, he was thinking of the new Ladybug Miraculous holder, a twenty-six year old chemist named Pierre who came round to Marinette and Emma’s apartment for dinner and advice once a month.
He wondered if the pull he felt towards this waiter indicated that he was Pierre’s destined other half, or if any romance between them would be as doomed as his love for Marinette. He wondered if making this choice now would give him the strength to try again, or if it would just be the end of the last good thing in his life.
There was only one way to find out.
Adrien unwrapped the mint and popped it into his mouth, savoring the way the sweetness burst across his tongue. He smiled for the first time in what felt like centuries. “What’s your name?”
“Marcel, sir.”
Adrien twisted his ring around his finger one last time. “Well, Marcel, I have a proposal for you…”