Marinette struggled to contain tears when Alya stepped into her studio. Her friend just as equally struggled to contain her surprise.

"Hey, girl. Guess who's here with your things? How's it going?"

"Thanks, Alya." Marinette gave her a smile. "Sorry for asking you to do this, but I really couldn't come over to pick them up. Too much work had piled up already."

"Wait." Alya looked around the huge studio filled with clothes and sewing accessories. "Where's your team? Don't tell me you let them go to lunch while staying behind to work yourself?"

Marinette quirked an eyebrow. "Alya, what team?"

"You know, assistants, seamstresses… other people to help you create your masterpieces. All designers have a team, don't they? You used to tell me stories of your coworkers all the time. Where are they?"

Marinette shook her head. It was scary how far apart they'd grown over the last few months; her best friend didn't even know the real mess Marinette was in. "That was from the time when I was working in men's apparel. Now, I'm leading an experimental women's line. Alone."

Alya's eyes bulged. "What do you mean, alone? Don't tell me you're designing and sewing the outfits all by yourself?"

Marinette nodded.

"What about your assistant? I know for sure you had at least one. I spoke to her when you gave me the silent treatment."

"She quit."

"This is insane." Alya walked closer, setting down the bags full of Marinette's belongings by the door. "I thought Gabriel could afford to hire more people. If men's apparel has a team, why can't you have one?"

Marinette put the garment she'd been working on down. "M Agreste wanted me to experience starting everything from scratch. He said I'd be able to understand the industry more and thus have a better chance of success."

"By making you do everything yourself? A whole line? How many outfits is that?"

"Twenty-five outfits, meaning over fifty pieces of clothing and around thirty accessories, not counting shoes."

"Holy shit!" Alya's eyes widened. "How did he think you'd be able to manage that in a few months alone?"

Marinette sighed. "He gave me a budget and a studio. I had to keep him up to date with the designs, but everything else was up to me. If I wanted to hire help, I could. However"— Marinette looked away—"the budget was big enough for either investing in quality fabrics and accessories or for hiring help and settling for cheap materials. Not both."

"Freaking—"

"But!" Marinette proudly grinned. "I managed to get both. I spent the money M Agreste gave me on quality materials and got an assistant myself."

Alya stared at her in shock. "How?"

"I spoke with a few people in the HR and finance department. They hired me an assistant and paid her a portion of my salary."

Alya swore under her breath, dropping into a chair. She closed her eyes for a moment. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

Marinette let out a huff. "I would've, but you didn't give me a chance. You were too busy constantly patronizing my every life choice and work ethic."

Alya flinched, pressing her lips into a thin line.

Marinette held her breath. "I'm sorry, Als. I didn't mean to. We made up and promised—"

"Stop." Alya raised her hand. Without any more words, she stood up and walked to Marinette. Wrapping her into a hug, Alya whispered, "You're right, girl. I'm sorry. I should've been a better friend to you instead of making it even harder."

"I'm sorry too," Marinette responded quietly, returning Alya's hug. "I did put my work before our friendship. I'd be pissed at me as well if I were you."

"Then promise me something." Alya pulled back. "No more secrets. If you need help and can't be a good friend at the moment, I want you to tell me. Okay?"

A smile tugged at Marinette's lips as she nodded. "Deal. Apart from the identity of my new landlord, no more secrets."

"Dang it," Alya dramatically groaned, stepping away. "You see right through me."

"I just know you too well, Als." Marinette chuckled. "It wouldn't be you if you didn't try to sniff out the information you want."

"Well, too bad for him you won't divulge," Alya said. "I just wanted to thank him for helping you. That's all."

"I'll make sure to pass him your gratitude."

"Fine," Alya fake-grumbled. "Now though, if you'll excuse me for a moment, I, being the best friend in the world that I am who feels extremely guilty for failing you, will call my work and let them know I'm suddenly feeling sick and won't be coming back today."

Marinette frowned. "Why would you do that?"

"To help you, of course. Don't you think I noticed you hiding your tears when I came in? And it's not likely anything important would go down on a Wednesday evening, so I'd be better off here doing whatever little I can to help you."

"You don't have to."

"But you'd appreciate it, right?"

Marinette nodded. "At this point, I'd appreciate anything."

"Then I better get to that call. Be right back, M. Don't finish everything without me."

Marinette laughed. "I wish I could, Als. I wish I could."

Five minutes later, Alya returned, ready to jump in the work head-on. Not having the slightest idea of how everything worked, though, all Alya could do was to cut out details or do basic stitching or even simply pass Marinette the needed tools. Marinette still appreciated it. Her best friend's presence alone was helping her focus and use her time as effectively as she could.

About half an hour before the curfew, Alya got visibly nervous. Fidgeting with her cellphone more than usual, she bit her lip as she spoke. "Hey, Marinette?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you… I mean what if what we thought… Like you know, what if we were… Ugh!" Alya groaned. "Never mind. It can wait."

Marinette looked at her friend in confusion. This wasn't the first time Alya had seemingly tried to say something before changing the topic today. The fact that she was still trying after dropping it more than once meant that it was something important.

"Okay, what is it?"

"What?" Alya played innocent. "What is what?"

"You want to say something but keep backing out."

Alya nibbled on her lip again. "It's nothing super important, and you're way too busy for a distraction right now. I'll tell you some other time."

Marinette put the garment she was working on down and looked at Alya. "If it's about your wedding dress, and if you'll give me another chance, I'd love to design one for you."

Alya's eyes lit up. "You would?"

"Absolutely. I can't let my best friend get married in an off-rack dress. Though, you'll have to wait for after Fashion Week for me to actually sew it."

"That's fine. The wedding's in October so you'll have plenty of time, and with all the skills I've acquired today, I'm sure I'll be able to help you."

"Then, it's settled." Marinette grinned. "If I survive Fashion Week, we're sewing your dress together."

"Deal," Alya said excitedly, her expression turning serious just a moment later. "But that isn't what I wanted to talk to you about."

Marinette glanced her way, getting back to her work. "Just say it then."

"It's about Adrien."

Marinette stilled, her hand freezing over the fabric. "What about him?" she whispered, her eyes focused on her work.

Alya put her work down and came to stand beside Marinette. "I know you don't like to talk about him, and I'm sorry to bring this up, but there is something you need to know," Alya said, her voice quiet. "Especially because he's currently your new boss."

Marinette put her needle down, shifting her eyes to the side. "That doesn't really matter. I hardly see him here, so—"

"He didn't write that message," Alya interrupted. "Most likely it was Chloe."

Marinette frowned. "What—you mean that message?"

"Yes. Nino met with him over the weekend. Adrien didn't even know that message existed. He thought we just kicked him out of the chat room without warning. He said it was most likely Chloe. She had access to his cellphone on a few occasions."

Marinette watched Alya for a few moments before turning away with a huff. "I wouldn't be surprised if they planned that whole thing together. She was his friend."

Alya sighed. "Marinette, you can't seriously think Adrien and Chloe are the same. You knew him better than that."

"You tell me what to think then because, as I see it, he was so disgusted by my confession he decided to ruin my dream."

"Marinette." Alya reached out and placed her hand on Marinette's shoulder. "You know as well as I do that that's not true. Yes, Adrien didn't return your feelings, but he loved you a lot as his friend. He adored you and would've never hurt you on purpose. I know you know that deep down in your heart."

Marinette fell quiet. She used to believe that. Back then, no matter how angry with Adrien she'd been initially, deep down, Marinette had always felt that whatever that was, Adrien's actions weren't a petty response to her confession. That message, however, had changed everything. It killed all hope she had in him and their friendship. It hurt more than Marinette would ever admit, and even now, years later, she had trouble even thinking of forgiving him for what he wrote in it. How was she supposed to deal with the fact that Adrien might not be the author?

"So what?" Marinette frowned, turning away. "He still stole my file…"

"To protect you," Alya gently nudged Marinette to look at her. "Marinette, please. Can you honestly tell me now, having gone through all that you've gone through, that you can't see why Adrien didn't want you here? Can you deny that he had good intentions behind his admittedly wrong actions?"

Marinette stilled, her chest heavy. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't thought about it over the years. Working at Gabriel was hard. Not a lot of people stuck around, and those who did prioritized work over everything else in their lives.

Including her.

Her friendships? Ruined. Love life? Non-existent. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd visited her parents. But she still persisted because quitting would mean failure, and for everything she was, Marinette wasn't a failure. Chat Noir had always told her that. He said it to Ladybug, but that didn't matter. They were the same person.

She turned away. "If Adrien was so concerned about it, he should've talked to me instead of going behind my back."

"And he realizes that now, but Marinette, knowing yourself, tell me, if he'd gone to you while you were heartbroken by his rejection, would you have listened?"

Marinette pressed her lips into a thin line, snapping her eyes to glare at Alya. "Why does it matter now? Why would you bring it up after all these years? Weren't you just as mad at him as I was only a week ago? What is it to you, Alya? Why are you defending him all of a sudden?"

"Because I found out the truth, and I think that even despite all the wrong he's done, Adrien deserves for you to know it. And like it or not, your paths have crossed again. So humour me, but I thought if you could understand his motives and intentions no matter how wrong his actions were, maybe, just maybe, it'd be easier for you to get along with your boss. Then, maybe he'd help you out with your situation if he could find it in him to still care after the way we treated him."

"The truth? Why are you so sure this is the truth? What if he lied? Why is Nino even speaking to him again?"

Alya shifted her eyes to the side. "You were ignoring me for days. Your parents couldn't tell me much other than that you were alive. I was worried sick, and it was in the news that Adrien's back at Gabriel, so Nino reached out to him, and they met and…"

"Oh! So the golden boy tells Nino a sad tale, and you believe him?"

"Nino knows Adrien. They'd been best friends for years before that whole mess erupted. He could tell from Adrien's reaction alone that he never knew that email existed, much less wrote it. And we didn't need Adrien's explanation to understand why he tried to keep you away from Gabriel."

"Alya—"

"Marinette," Alya interrupted, taking Marinette by the shoulders and looking her straight in the eyes. "I love you, girl. You know I do. I am not saying you should forgive him. Adrien deserves for you to be mad at him. What I am saying is you should give him the benefit of the doubt and try to understand. What Adrien did was wrong. He should never have done anything behind your back and he admits it himself. He could've and should've gone about it a different way. Something that included you in it. He didn't, but I think he's paid enough for that."

"Oh, and I didn't?"

Alya pulled Marinette into a hug, pressing her closer. "Of course you did, M. You've suffered more than any of us and you deserve for your life to finally get better. And now he's your boss, and he could help you if he wanted, but he's hurt as well."

"So, what, now I'm supposed to apologize to him?"

"Gosh, Marinette. No. I'm not pressuring you into anything. I just thought both of you deserved to know what really went down. Adrien didn't do all the things we thought he did, and what he had done, he did only because he cared for you too much to think straight." She pulled away and brushed Marinette's bangs away. "Just think about it, okay?"

Marinette's phone alarm chimed before she could respond. She perked. "We have to go. Help me gather my things."

Alya frowned. "What's going on?"

Marinette groaned. "Your saint Adrien enforced a curfew for us: to be out of the building by eight or take a day off the next day, and you know how I get, I don't pay attention to the time when I'm working. So, I set an alarm for myself. Take the bags you brought, I'll carry this." She stashed a few of her projects inside a duffel bag. "Let's go."

They rushed down the hall and took the elevators down. The guards saluted Marinette as she approached them.

"Ten seconds to spare," one of them chuckled. "You're sure a fan of toeing the line, Marinette."

"Yeah, Danger is my middle name," Marinette deadpanned. "See you tomorrow, guys."

"Have a good evening," the guards called after them.

"You know, I kind of like this curfew thing," Alya said as they exited the building. "We would've saved ourselves a lot of arguments if you had it before."

"Well, I don't appreciate being babied, but that's a discussion for another day," Marinette said, taking the bags from Alya's hands.

She had only an hour to get home and cook a meal for Chat Noir. Thankfully his apartment wasn't too far away, and hopefully, the meat had already defrosted in the fridge. But she couldn't tell Alya that.

"Sorry, I have to go now. I take work home because of this curfew, so I'd better get to it. Thank you for helping me today."

"I didn't do much." Alya shrugged. "I'll see if I can take a few days off over the next few weeks, so I can drop by and help you some more."

"Thank you." Marinette smiled. "But I was told today by a friend in HR that Adrien actually is looking for an assistant for me. So, if that happens, I should be fine. Unless it's a novice. Then I'll be begging you to come back. At least you're entertaining."

"Thank you," Alya chuckled and winked. "Glad to know my work in entertainment came in handy. And see? He's helping. Maybe he's trying to apologize?"

"Let's not talk about this now," Marinette sighed. "I really need to go."

"Alright. See you soon, girl." Alya leaned in to give Marinette a farewell cheek kiss. "Take care of yourself."

"I will," Marinette returned the kiss and, taking her bags, rushed to the metro.

Hurrying to finish their dinner, Marinette couldn't even glance at Chat Noir as he knocked and entered through the balcony door.

"Evening, Marinette," he greeted with a voice a bit more somber than usual.

"You sound exhausted," she commented, turning his way. "Long day?"

"Yeah," Chat murmured and walked into the kitchen. "But I bet it's about to get much better because whatever you're cooking smells delicious."

"It's Cassoulet, and it'll take a few more minutes," Marinette said, adding white beans and baby carrots to the pot. "Sorry, I got held up at work and missed my usual metro train. The next one was delayed a few minutes and it all kind of snowballed from there."

He came to stand by her side. "Got held up as in you broke the curfew?"

Marinette huffed. "Stupid curfew, but no, I didn't break it. Made it out with ten seconds to spare."

"Like living on the edge, don't you?"

"Can't help it," Marinette sighed, tasting the dish. "I have too much work and too much at stake. And I know I keep saying I'm behind, but it's getting critical."

Chat fell quiet for a moment before asking. "How far behind are you?"

"Enough to start seriously panicking if I don't have permanent help by the end of the week," Marinette said, as she cut sausages and removed bay leaves from the pot. "I've been told my boss is trying to find someone for me, but I honestly don't expect much. People are quitting, not coming in. My friend promised to take a few days off to help me, but with all of her good intentions, she's useful only for basic tasks."

"And you're taking work home—"

"Won't help much unless I don't sleep at all." Marinette sighed, taking the dishes out of the cupboard.

"Finding another job isn't an option?" Chat asked, starting to set the table.

"Not unless I want to start from scratch, meaning going back to school to finish my degree. Although, Alya did mention something about the possibility of getting my diploma at ESMOD by using my experience at Gabriel. Don't know how viable that is, but the option might be there."

"At least that's something," Chat said, taking the bowls full of delicious-looking food and bringing them to the table. "Should we indulge now and forget about our problems for a while?"

Something in his voice cracked, and taking a good look at Chat, Marinette's heart tripped. Even with the mask on and him acting more or less normal, it was obvious Chat was physically exhausted and emotionally distressed. The usually smug curve of his lips sagged. His eyes, though still brilliantly green, looked tired and would look anywhere but at her. His body slackened as he picked up his spoon and, without his childlike excitement nor waiting for her, started to eat. That had never happened before.

"Chat?" Marinette whispered. "What's wrong?"

He blinked a few times before trying to grin. "Nothing."

"You aren't fooling anyone, Chat," Marinette sat on a chair beside him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He turned back to stare at his bowl, his shoulders drooping. "I'm sorry, Marinette. Even if I wanted to, I can't. Secret identity stuff."

"Alright," Marinette said, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Is there anyone you can talk to? Close friends? Family? Ladybug?"

He flinched before giving her another fake smile. "It's fine. Don't worry about it. Just some family drama, but it'll pass. I'll be fine. Everything will be fine. Thank you for asking, though. It means a lot. And this—" he pointed to the meal in front of him, "—this is the best remedy for me right now."

She gave him a worried smile. "Then we shouldn't delay any longer. Itadakimasu?"

This time, the smile on his face reached his eyes as he repeated, "Itadakimasu."

That evening, for the first time in a long while, Marinette caught herself feeling more concerned about someone else's well-being than her own problems. Chat Noir tried to act as normal as possible, yet the sadness behind his easy-going demeanour was hard to miss. He was in pain, barely holding it together, and he tried to cover it, failing miserably in the process. So, when the dinner was over, the kitchen was cleaned and the leftovers split between the two of them, Marinette did something she could scarcely afford: she asked Chat Noir if he was willing to stay a little longer.

"If you think I'll be very useful, I must disappoint you, Princess," Chat commented, watching Marinette pull the work she brought with her out of her bag. "This cat may have great style and know his way around fashion, but sew, he absolutely cannot. Especially not in a costume with claws."

"I just assumed you would rather keep me company than go back to whatever problems you have at home," Marinette replied. "But if I'm wrong, then, by all means, I'll see you tomorrow."

Chat paused for a moment, thinking. Then he walked back into the room. "I still can be useful, you know. Tell me what to do, and I'll adapt."

She gave him a look. "Chat, seriously. I just thought you could use the company tonight. I wasn't going to put you to work."

"And I appreciate the thought. Let me repay you by helping. You do need help, don't you? And helping you would help me. It'll take my mind off things I'd rather forget right now. So, let's skip the niceties and get to it."

"Alright." She sighed. "Can you stitch?"

"Not even if my life depended on it," he said with a straight face. "Sorry, I have a complicated relationship with fashion and clothes-making."

"What if I show you? You can do the preliminary stitches and I'll go over them with a machine tomorrow at work?"

Chat plopped on a sofa, crossing his legs. "I'm all yours. Use me any way you want."

Marinette's cheeks warmed at the suggestive wording, yet a completely oblivious Chat was already reaching for the pile of materials she had on her coffee table.

"So which one of these unfortunate garments will you entrust into my claws?"

She pushed the thought aside. This was neither the place nor the time, and she was not in her Ladybug disguise. Picking out two pre-cut pieces of fabric that needed to be stitched together, she put them into Chat's lap. "You should be able to manage this one. It's a straight, simple stitch just to hold it in place for now. Let me get you what you'll need and show you how it's done."

Ten minutes later, Chat braved to poke a needle through the fabric himself, looking very proud of his first couple of stitches that, to his absolute delight, Marinette judged to be quite decent for his first time. It all came crashing down when he discovered that he had accidentally stitched together three layers of fabric instead of two. Marinette couldn't even be angry at him with how childlike and dramatic his sorrow was. Laughing her heart out, she passed him a seam ripper and assured him she wasn't mad.

His tongue stuck out, Chat Noir undid his seam and started anew. By around midnight, looking very proud, he'd managed to complete the task she'd entrusted to him. Not much of a help, but Marinette appreciated the effort. Seeing him relax and have that goofy smile surface again as he conquered the art of sewing was more than enough to make it all worthwhile.

"Wouldn't it be nice to just snap your fingers and learn a new skill just like that?" Chat murmured, laying on her sofa, staring at the ceiling. "You know, like magic? Cause let me tell you, if not for this suit, I'm sure I would've bled to death from all the times I poked my fingers with that cursed needle."

Marinette giggled, concentrating on her own task. "You know, sometimes I wish I could be Hawkmoth," she said without much thinking. "I'd akumatize myself an army of seamstresses and would be done with this line in no time."

"That'd be nice." Chat chuckled, sitting up. "Alas, you aren't and all you've got for now is me. Have anything else I can stitch together?"

"Maybe this one," Marinette passed him another garment. "Stitch along the red line."

"Your wish is my command," Chat said, twisting the fabric in his hands. A couple of hours later, he'd finished that as well, at a much quicker pace than before.

"You're learning fast," Marinette noted.

"I have a good teacher," he grinned with his eyes half-lidded as he struggled to stay awake. "But I think we should call it a night. Things are starting to blur even with my cat vision. How you're still working is beyond me."

"Habit." Marinette shrugged, glancing at the clock. Two in the morning. Maybe they should get a little rest. She put her work away and stood up. "Thank you for helping me, Chat. I'll get you your lunch."

"My purr-leasure." He looked around the room. "You aren't going to continue working, are you? You need to rest."

"I won't. Don't worry. I'll go to bed as soon as I put everything away."

"Promise?"

She smiled. "Promise. Thank you again, Chat"

He grinned and took the box with food from her hands. Leaning forward, Chat placed a tender kiss on her cheek. "Any time, Princess. I'll see you later."

With that he was gone, leaving Marinette standing in the middle of the room, her heart threatening to jump out of her chest. Somehow, she was convinced he didn't even pay attention to the effect he had on her.