When the sheets flutter to the last, and the outcome is unveiled for all to see, how is the reader supposed to feel knowing that there's nothing afterward? Sad? Happy? Relieved? Are they prompted to feel a certain way? If so, then did the author end it there on purpose? They must've wanted to teach them a lesson to have ended it that way, right?
Despite that, how does one even know when a story should end? Did they already have the ending planned in their mind and didn't hesitate to write it all down, or did they come to a dead end while hoping to take a bypass to their destination? Must they have decided to end it all the instant they knew they couldn't go back?
She stared ahead blankly, hair disheveled, eyes moist with tears, and not even one single word registering in her mind. She saw her companion speaking, her fists slamming on the table then thrashing in the air as if she was parodying a newborn bird, but Marinette heard nothing. Alya's words remained as hushed cries in her ears. Even if the latter were to use a megaphone and scream her words out, Marinette still would not hear.
She refused to.
She knew what Alya would say. The expression on her face when she arrived at her doorstep gave away her reason, but Marinette had grown tired of hearing about it, let alone being asked about it. She just wanted to be alone, lie on her bed, and mute the rest of the world out. She wanted nothing more than for it to be a nightmare, find herself sweating all over as soon as she woke up, and have him–the love of her life–cradle her in his arms and kiss her tears away.
Everything would go back to being perfect.
His soulless eyes would become tender once more and make her feel as if she's the most beautiful woman in the world. From his eyes, she would know his exact feelings, how he pictured their future–hopefully together–while they laid on the grass and talked about whatever was on their minds with the promise of going through every hurdle together despite the risk of falling.
And yet, the problem didn't go away.
Day after day, each time she opened her eyes, Marinette found herself sleeping alone. The other side of the bed was cold, no hint of a human body sleeping in it, and there was no sound of a shower running–a sound Marinette thought was so soothing to hear in the morning. She would bring her tired body to the kitchen to see if he was there to surprise her with that endearing smile of his or to the shoe closet, where, for some weird reason, he could fit in, but she didn't question.
She would hope and hope and hope, only to be left disappointed each and every time she discovered the only things she could find there were his untouched shoes she picked out for his birthday and the faint yet lingering smell of a fragrant perfume–one she surely wouldn't be able to afford.
Still, Marinette didn't allow her suspicions to corrupt her mind. He had many acquaintances at work. He was a model, so of course he would run into a female model or two, and while they're working on a photoshoot together, her perfume must've latched itself onto his shirt, coat, or anything. Maybe Nathalie treated herself one day and sprayed some while he was nearby?
Marinette didn't know, but amongst all this, she trusted him. She trusted him with her life, her secrets, her future–her heart. Despite their differences, he wouldn't let her down. He wouldn't break her heart, especially not after the hazardous mountains they've climbed through together or the never-ending rain they got drenched throughout. He surely wouldn't leave them behind just because of a problem, right?
She recalled that Adrien was in an emotional state after discovering that his long-time enemy was his father. Afterwards, he became different. He refused to eat, often avoided eye contact with her when she was lucky to have even started a conversation with him in the first place, and spent nights sleeping in the guest room. When she tried to comfort him, he pushed her away, promising that once he finished thinking it over, they'll talk.
Months passed, and they never had that talk.
She developed a habit of staring into his emerald green eyes and remembering that clock she once had when she was a kid–young and stupid–wondering when it'll all end. Marinette started to lose hope and wonder if their relationship was going to end just like that. They rarely talked nowadays. She rarely even saw him, except through the billboards she would find on her way to work.
She would come back from work to an empty home and no longer be surprised when she realizes that she'll have to eat dinner for two by herself. Setting the table for one more person, albeit their absence, also became a habit of hers, but who could blame her?
Their relationship was built to last. It was a wall she was so sure no one could ever penetrate. No outside forces could wreck what they have. How was she supposed to know she should've worried not about what was going on from the outside but what was occurring in the inside? How could she have known that he, of all people, would be the one to tear it down?
They were happy. She was so sure they were, but apparently, he's a much better model than she thought he was or that he claimed to be with all the fake smiles he's given to the camera. Maybe she was the only one who was happy. Maybe he wanted out, but she didn't get the message. Maybe they just weren't made to last.
Still, no matter the outcome, she wanted to hear him say it. She wanted to hear the exact words leave his mouth with the same pair of lips that once whispered, 'I love you' in her ears. If he said so, then she would go.
She pretended not to know. She played along with his game and gave him the space that he needed, hoping he would understand her intentions and tell her the truth. If he wanted to go their separate ways, then she'll give him just that. If he wanted to share his life with another, she would tuck away her feelings, lock it away where no one can find it, and support him with the biggest smile she could give him.
Marinette would support him wholeheartedly. She really would. If there was anyone who deserved to be happy more than she did, it was him.
Once again, she waited, and she waited, and she waited, and yet, it never came.
It was a silent blow.
There wasn't any audio that accompanied the tape. She didn't hear his voice. She didn't hear hers. She just heard static and saw how his arm snaked around her waist as if it has been doing that all along. She saw the most beautiful smile on his face through that video, and Marinette didn't realize how much she had missed it.
Funny.
All it took was a video for her to take back her thoughts of supporting them.
Marinette has never been the same since then to say the least.
She still stuck to the plan. She pretended that she didn't see it. She fed her mind ideas such as the girl only being a fling–that he would ultimately get tired of her. Once he goes back to his old self, he'll toss that girl away and come back to her loving arms where he should've been in the first place, but still Marinette knew.
She knew, knew, knew.
She just knew.
The second she woke up on their wedding anniversary and saw the divorce papers on the kitchen table, there was nothing–not even patiently waiting–that could ever restore what they once had, and if Adrien no longer loved her, then who was she to hold him back?
She had made up her mind long ago, and she supposes that this sudden surprise was the 'goodbye' she was expecting. Marinette didn't hesitate. Although reluctant to approach the table at first, she had come to terms with them separating eventually.
Her wedding ring was the first to go. Removing it was something she never imagined she could ever do, but here she was, three years later, taking it off willingly.
While staring at the ring, she remembered the day he proposed to her.
She was running late, the flight was delayed, and she wanted nothing more than to come back home. That day, Marinette had trouble keeping her eyes open. Even so, she couldn't risk missing her flight, so she decided to walk around to keep herself awake.
It was while walking down a flight of stairs that she noticed the pink balloons that guided her to where she should go. Running on half a cup of coffee made it seem like a good idea. It made her do things she normally wouldn't do.
Unhesitatingly, she followed the trail of roses that accompanied the balloons and prepared herself just in case someone was to attack her from the shadows. At the end of the trail, she found him, on his knee, waiting eagerly for her to arrive, as if he knew exactly what she would do.
She obviously agreed, but seeing how much they've drifted apart, she wondered if imagining a future with him was even worthwhile.
Marinette smiled.
Of course, it was.
I can't answer for you. I can only answer for myself, but this ending? It's not you nor I who paved the way for this ending. We didn't know how it would all turn out. We just took a risk, and I didn't mind walking alongside you on this adventure called life. I loved you that much. I still do.
Dead ends are a part of everyone's story, and we undoubtedly came across one when you found out about your father. Coming across that dead end may have proved to be an obstacle for me at one point, but I've learned to move past that. Adrien… just like how stories come to an inevitable end and offer us lessons we can use to get through life, our story ended. While months ago, I'd hoped it wasn't so, you were my lesson, not my forever, and I can live with that.