Chapter Text
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The soft drumming of raindrops was like a natural alarm. Mother Nature’s sweet melody enveloped her senses, finally waking her after another tired sleepless night. Her tired eyelids resisted revealing the blue jewels to the world; she woke up exhausted, her shoulders stiff and her head heavy.
She swung her legs out of bed, still drowsy. Her vision was blurry; she couldn’t make out anything clearly, except for the brown wooden floor and the familiar light pink wallpaper. The only certainty was the headache throbbing just above her eyes. She brought her hand to the area, pressing lightly in an attempt to ease that discomfort first thing in the morning.
She picked up the glass of water she’d left the night before next to her bed, on top of the nightstand, and spent too much time tracing her finger along the carved edge of the glass. With her fingertip, she gently slid it over the little embossed flowers. She sighed, opening the drawers of the nightstand in search of something to ease her discomfort. She took a pill from a blister pack and placed it on the tip of her tongue, finding it difficult to swallow even with a good gulp of water. The bitter taste lingered on her lips. “This should make me feel better,” she murmured, but it didn’t sound like a certainty. The bitterness was the price she would pay for relief.
If only she could solve her problems as easily as taking a sip of water?
She grabbed her phone to check the time: “6:35 AM, Monday.” Another week the young girl would have to face. The alarm didn’t even have time to go off, as she’d woken up early; her body seemed to react in advance to the threat of the routine starting up again, bringing back her student obligations. If weekends lasted as long as weekdays, she’d be much happier, or at least that’s what she thought. But they didn’t, and she wasn’t going to sit there crying over spilled milk.
She spent a few more moments on her phone, scrolling through the screen in search of something to catch her attention. This had become part of her morning routine: waking up and checking social media. Usually, some interesting post served as fuel to start the day in a better mood, but today there was nothing but nonsense and subtle arguments (which, at this point, were already the norm on the internet...). Many people were complaining about the heavy atmosphere in Paris, linking the city’s mood to superstitions and animals, like butterflies and poor little black kittens. What had kittens done to deserve such a malicious association? Poor babies.
She gave up wasting time on that, knowing it would get her nowhere. She also checked her personal profile, where she posted doodles and drawings, pretty photos with cool filters, and occasional selfies from when she felt good about herself. She checked the engagement her posts had received overnight and… Nothing! Of course.
She felt a little sad, but put her phone aside and finally got up. Without much determination, she stumbled, nearly tripping over her own feet due to the morning dizziness, which was more like the norm at this point. She barely avoided falling, making it to the bathroom. There, she splashed water on her face, hoping the icy shock would wake up all her senses. She used the sink as a support so she wouldn’t collapse onto the cosmetics and knickknacks scattered there.
She went downstairs, making a point of counting every step she took. She was still in her pajamas. Anyone who saw her now would have to face her wearing a beautiful white pajama set with pink polka dots and a black bow. Since she lived in the bakery with her parents, she’d been in some funny situations in the past; she remembered the times when customers saw her right after she woke up and wondered if one of them — Tom or Sabine — had the last name “Frankenstein” to have produced a zombie daughter like that.
Her mother was the first to notice the sleepy figure. From her posture, Marinette looked more like a soul possessed by the spirit of sleep than a normal girl. Sabine laughed at her daughter’s pitiful state, as she could barely keep her eyes open, and gently cupped her face in her hands. She pulled her close, planting an affectionate kiss on her dark, shiny hair.
“Marinette, are you already up?” she asked, more as a way to confirm she was alive and there, rather than completely dead of sleepiness.
In response, she received an incomprehensible babble in an alien language. Sabine laughed, that typical warm motherly smile on her lips.
“With this chilly weather, I thought you’d stay under the covers for a few more minutes. I was already thinking I’d have to come wake you up!”
Now it was Marinette’s turn to smile, a simple laugh escaping through her nose.
“I can wake up on my own, okay?” she retorted, but she wasn’t serious; she was just joking. If it weren’t for her mom, she’d wake up at noon every day.
Tom, who was in the back taking a tray of fresh baguettes out of the oven, chimed in: “Hmm, but what about that day when I had to go sign the attendance book at the Lycée because you were two hours late for oversleeping?”
“Dad! It was just once… twice… Look, whatever! That only happens once in a while, not today!” She put her hand on her chest, defending her pride.
Her parents laughed, leaving Marinette with her eyes wide open, faking indignation. Did they really not believe in her incredible ability to wake up on her own, though?
Sabine interrupted the teasing, touching her daughter’s arms and feeling them ice-cold. Concern immediately tugged at her heart: “Your arms are cold... I’ll give you another pair of pajamas to sleep in tonight…”
“You know I prefer to sleep cool. I hate feeling things on my arm when I go to sleep,” she protested, crossing her arms and pouting.
Sabine bit her lower lip, thinking. Marinette was being stubborn; she’d catch a cold soon, and there would go the superhero mom to take care of her sick little girl. She suppressed her concern and the sermon she really wanted to give, changing the subject: “Sweetie, I might have some great news for you,” she emphasized the might, letting curiosity dance freely through her words. “But first… is something going on, Marinette?”
Sabine was sure there was something there that went beyond tiredness. Marinette’s eyes widened briefly, surprised that her mother had noticed the melancholy air she carried that morning.
She thought she was faking it well. She immediately let her shoulders drop, as if the weight she carried were crashing to the floor along with her posture. “Oh, you know…” She looked away. “I… I don’t want to go to school. Not that I don’t want to study! You know I do. And not that I want to give up and drop everything, but…”
Sabine nodded silently, understanding, encouraging her daughter to continue.
“I’m tired of the Lycée… That’s all.”
The outburst came with a heaviness that cut through Sabine’s heart. She knew her daughter’s background very well. Marinette had always been an excellent student, hardworking, especially now with the Le Bac approaching (the scary exam that kept students up at night). Although she was a bit clumsy in her daily life, Marinette took everything that required dedication and brainpower very seriously. Sabine worried about how much that stress was wearing her down. It was visible in those beautiful blue eyes, which seemed to have temporarily lost the youthful sparkle they once had; the girl seemed overwhelmed trying to balance the demands of her studies, the drama of her relationships, and her work at the bakery.
Her mother understood. She understood as far as her eyes could see. Sabine enveloped her daughter's hands in a sweet and sincere touch, looking deep into her eyes.
“You’re tired of the people, aren’t you, dear?”
It was as if she were reading her thoughts. Marinette looked down, avoiding her mother’s gaze for a moment. “I was just about to say that…” She smiled weakly, feeling understood, but she was still discouraged; after all, that didn’t change the reality she would have to face for a few more torturous months.
“You have to be just like your friends! What’s the name of that one… Juleka?”
“Oh… umm, yes.”
She was surprised by the sudden comparison, but decided to let her mother finish:
“You see? She’s friends with everyone, but she’s always quiet, reserved. She avoids trouble. Sometimes in life, we have to be like that, because some people don’t deserve to see more than we show them. Who we really are.”
“Well, I already do— I try to do that. But I’m a disaster… Even when I don’t want to, I end up drawing attention to myself.”
She let go of Sabine’s hands, using her own to hide her face. She felt so ashamed. Ashamed just thinking about the practical classes, where she’d made a fool of herself in front of the whole class, or the read-alouds, where she couldn’t stop stuttering. Or all the other times she’d tripped on the school stairs or bumped into someone she didn’t want to see right at the entrance… She felt like a total failure in that place. She hated every bitter moment that reminded her of the reputation she carried.
“You’ll never be a disaster, sweetheart.”
Tom listened to everything intently, quiet as a gargoyle — which, coincidentally, was great at baking bread and making sweets. A big, loving gargoyle. He was a bit clumsy when it came to handling his daughter’s emotions, but he was always there for her, helping her regain her usual vigor. He loved to see her smile.
“Give it some time. Soon all of this will be over, and the opportunities you’ve always dreamed of will be right in front of you. Once and for all.” Her dad put an end to the matter. Those words, which would sound so simple to anyone else, were enough to comfort Marinette’s heart, and she smiled, but for real this time.
Although she didn’t feel quite ready to face the millions of judgmental eyes out there, knowing that she would soon be starting over in a place she truly loved served as a great comfort. The smell of fresh bread soon filled the bakery, preventing her from dwelling too much on the issue. She let herself take in the smell in the air, closing her eyes for a moment to prolong that cozy feeling.
“Come have breakfast. Here, your favorite, my little princess.” Sabine gently held her by the shoulders, guiding her to the counter with the table set.
There, a white porcelain vase with a delicate chinese pattern in gold filigree held two dahlias. The flowers, in a slightly purplish shade of pink, enchanted Marinette immediately. Although their beauty caught her attention, her focus soon shifted to the small plate with a golden croissant, a jar of berry jam, silver cutlery, and fresh fruit to help herself to as she pleased. So thoughtfully prepared, and Sabine had done this just for her, who would eat in a hurry before leaving. Well, not quite so fast, since she had miraculously woken up early on a rainy day. Still, she felt a pang of guilt in her chest, as if she weren’t worthy of such pampering.
She was used to eating breakfast alone. Well, that was only half true; after all, she was surrounded by her parents, but they never sat at the table with her. And that was fine! She understood that they were busy and that, often, they weren’t even hungry in the morning from tasting so many bread rolls and treats during the baking. It hurt, but just a little. She felt selfish when she caught herself in these thoughts, so she tried to push them aside by thinking of taking a nice bite out of the croissant smeared with jam.
“Oh, mom. I already told you I don’t need all this…”
“Why?”
“I hate being a bother. I don’t want to waste your time…”
“Sweetheart! I set everything up so nicely here for you because it makes me happy. It's not a waste of time.” Sabine gave Marinette a tender kiss on the cheek, and her heart warmed at the response.
Croissants were her favorite, as surprising as that may seem. Being the daughter of bakers, whenever she mentioned this preference to others, it was always a source of surprise: “Wow, but don’t you like something more elaborate?”, “Wow, but croissants are so plain and stale (which was so untrue)…” But that’s the beauty of it: no one has to eat it plain. Well, not usually. You can always change them up depending on your mood that day, and Marinette loved having that choice. One day she’d eat them with butter, another with cheese, another with Nutella… But today she prefered them with a sweet, citrusy berry jam. And that’s it!
She split her attention between the sweet taste of the jam and the bitterness of what was on her phone. She ended up returning to it because she was anxious, and scrolling through the screen was supposed to calm her down, with videos of cute little animals playing and clips of nightcore songs, but today social media was especially bizarre. As strange as it was, every account was talking about similar things: besides the depressing atmosphere spreading throughout Paris, they were reporting the appearance of mysterious events. They said a spell had fallen over the city, and the girl felt a chill in her stomach. She didn’t know why. She was scared by the possibility that it might be a real curse, but curses were things from fairy tales… weren’t they?
What if she were living a fairy tale right now? She thought about asking her parents if they knew anything or if this was just another internet bubble thing. They’d probably seen some news in the journal and would be much more reliable sources than the web. In the background, the television, turned on at a very low volume, was showing the weather forecast: a storm predicted for that afternoon, right at the time she’d be leaving the Lycée.
Marinette let out a grunt of pure frustration. She didn’t want to get soaked in the rain on her way home. She was so distressed about the weather for the next few days that the internet mystery ended up taking a back seat when another memory flashed through her mind:
“Wait… mom, what were you going to say again? Before you started picking on my pajamas," she insisted, turning to Sabine, who was assembling and folding the cardboard boxes for the day’s orders.
The mother smiled, a smile of someone who knows something incredible and is keeping it a secret. “Nothing. I’ll tell you later.” She gave her a knowing wink, and the girl nearly melted in her chair from sheer anxiety.
“But I’m going to die of curiosity, mom!
“No, you won’t. I need you alive until the end of the day.”
There was no way to convince her. However, there was still one hope left, and it was right there beside them: her father. Marinette channeled all the drama classes she’d taken in school and made the most sparkly, cuteful, and dramatic puppy eyes ever seen in history. Tom was immune to that visual blackmail, though; he just laughed at his daughter’s expression, which deflated instantly. She’d now be haunted by a mix of curiosity and anxiety every minute of her day.
“There’s no use looking at me like that; I’m not going to tell you either. It’s a surprise,” Tom declared, amused.
She decided to give up. No matter how determined she was, her parents were even more stubborn when they wanted to keep a secret. She finished eating and wiped her hands on the dish towel hanging from the oven handle, which was deliciously warm from the heat of the baking.
“I’m going upstairs to get ready. I won’t be long!”
“Do you want me to drive you to the Lycée in the van, sweetheart?” Tom asked, his thick eyebrows furrowing, concerned. Just the thought of his little girl facing the bad weather made his paternal instincts kick in.
“No, dad… Please, you don’t have to.”
“But it’s raining cats and dogs out there…”
“Like every day? Apparently, Paris has turned into this now,” she sighed sadly.
The baker stood there looking at her, hesitant.
“Thanks, dad. But seriously, I’ll manage. I always manage,” she forced a laugh, trying to calm him down. She understood his concern, but she wanted to avoid comments from others as much as possible. “I can handle the walk.”
“Please, take a warm coat and don’t catch a cold!” Sabine advised in that motherly tone. “And don’t forget your snack!”
“Okay, mom!
Anxious about the secret and the Monday she would have to face at school, Marinette went back up the stairs to her room.
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