The drive home from the City of Lights had been longer than Marinette remembered, and full of questions about the party that had gone awry in the Louvre Plaza. It was the talk of the news and all of the gossip magazines. It was all over the internet by now, and it wouldn't be long before she had a problem on her hands. She was already dreading the phone call she was sure to get from Alya when the news reached the spunky blogger. In a strange turn of events, Chat Noir and Ladybug had made a triumphant return to keep the streets of Paris safe. Except they hadn't seen each other in years, and she hadn't lived in Paris for years.
Andrew was ecstatic about the idea of heroes in Paris. He was devastated that he had missed the party, and the action. He begged Marinette to tell him any details she had picked up. He wanted to know about what everyone was wearing, and if anyone had particularly great style. He wanted to know about the music and the lighting. And, after Marinette had told him that she hadn't gone, but had only seen the news feed, he was disheartened but jumped right into another form of interrogation. He remembered that she had mentioned growing up in Paris. He wanted to know if she had ever met Ladybug or Chat Noir. Did they ever save her? Marinette was surprised that he knew so much about the heroes of Paris. If he hadn't known before, he would now. Their return was no small bit of gossip. She told him that she had indeed been saved once by Chat Noir, though she left out that she had asked him to do it as Ladybug. Andrew had nearly died of excitement, and then jumped into asking about their outfits. What were they made of? What happened to their clothes?
Also making a triumphant return was Marinette's double life. She had forgotten the hardships of lying to the people closest to her. After Tikki had practically dragged her out into the streets of Paris in the middle of the night, she had told her parents that Andrew had needed her to come back to the hotel in the middle of the night for an emergency meeting. In truth, after she had escaped from the scene of the party, she had collapsed in her hotel room and slept until Andrew called her through the door the next morning. Luckily it was only Saturday, and there was no rush to get home. Andrew had allowed her to pack her things and get through breakfast before they headed back. He had wasted no time in asking her if she heard about the party. She had lied, saying that she spent the whole night with her parents. She had so enjoyed their company that she didn't even notice a commotion.
Underneath her lies, she was nervous. La Papillon was back, and Paris was once again in trouble. She was troubled over how a life as a superhero would fit into her adult life and, she was so far away from her beloved city. How could she really say that she was protecting it when it would take her so long to get there if something truly happened. Selfishly, she wanted to think that it had all been a dream, or rather a nightmare, and that she could just go back to being cute and sweet Marinette who loved fashion and designing. She was still that Marinette, but she was also Ladybug. She wished that she hadn't put the suit back on, but was also grateful that she had been there to protect the people of Paris. But, she mostly wished that she could get her thoughts straight. Something she was struggling to do more and more as the days passed.
After asking her a million questions, Andrew had dropped her off at her small apartment with a wave goodbye and a wink. She had retreated to the small haven and made herself some tea and a plate of cookies for Tikki before she unpacked her bags and pretended to go to bed early.
Saturday and Sunday came and went and Monday morning found her at her meticulously organized desk, working hard to complete her required tasks, yet distracted by her responsibilities as a hero. She was falling behind in her work, but not being able to focus no matter how she tried. Tikki worried about her, but urged her to stay calm and continue working. The small red kwami had promised to be on high alert so that Marinette wouldn't have to worry. It was a sweet gesture. Marinette still worried.
Before Marinette could process what had happened, Fashion Week was forgotten and with that commotion over, she and Andrew were back in Square Headquarters. But, if Marinette thought that it would get easier to manage everything after Fashion Week was over, she had been mistaken. The hustle and bustle of the employees of Square Designs was every bit hectic as it always was. Without the pressure of Fashion Week, but with the deadlines for completing the samples for the summer line looming over her, Marinette was still busy. She had her hands in at least eight different projects, and her own duties on top of that. Such as her project from Gabriel Agreste, sleeping more than four hours a night, the black miraculous stones weighing on her ears, and Andrew.
The days flew by, and even though she kept her ears open for word about any new akuma in Paris, there was nothing. She stopped worrying so much. She fell back into the rhythm of work and sleep, of flirting with Andrew and appeasing Alyssandra. Tikki remained on alert, but returned to being chipper after no news of Akuma or even distress in Paris reached them. Marinette was starting to think it really was all a dream. She had just imagined a villain in her nightmares, and a handsome and flirty Chat Noir, and an akuma. She huffed, and set her head on her desk. This was getting to be too much. She needed a break to think about everything. To talk to Tikki, and maybe call her mom. Her mom couldn't offer her any advice about her life as a hero, but she could help her feel more calm.
She locked her computer screen and stood up from her desk. She walked towards Andrew's office, to ask for the rest of the day off. Perhaps she would fake that she had caught something, cough prettily and ask to leave in a croaking voice. Or maybe she would tell part of the truth and tell Andrew she was feeling overwhelmed. She stopped outside of the door. There was someone else inside his office. Another man with a deep voice. Marinette froze as she heard the middle of a conversation. They were laughing about something.
"Fashion Week was a monumental success. If we keep going like this, it will be easy to keep our sales at the top of the ready-to-wear market." The stranger's voice lulled.
Andrew's laughter filled the space, "Showcasing the girl in my place was a stroke of genius, if I may take credit for part of that success."
Marinette raised an eyebrow. She creeped closer to the door and placed her ear to the dark frosted glass. Andrew had told her that it was an opportunity he was glad to give her. She'd taken it as a gift and a high honor from him. Had she been mistaken?
The first voice hummed, "You may," a pause, "she seems quite taken with you."
Andrew made a disgusted noise, "Yes it seems so. It's interesting what a few well placed glances and a charming nickname will do. She has the potential to outshine Gabriel Agreste himself, yet she stays here out of loyalty and infatuation. The only problem is if she thinks my feelings are real and expects a relationship. Don't get confused, I like the girl, but not like that."
Marinette covered her mouth. She'd never heard Andrew be so mean, and towards her of all people. She pressed her ear closer to the door.
"You will do what it takes for this company to thrive." The voice threatened.
Andrew was silent for a moment, "Yes, I understand, Sir. But do you really expect me to carry on a romantic relationship with Miss Cheng when I feel nothing for her? I am happy to flirt with her. I quite enjoy flirting."
"If that's what is needed." The voice huffed, "I'm certain you will come to have feelings for the girl if you try. If nothing else, she is quite attractive."
"I can't argue with that." Andrew teased.
Marinette leaned away from the door. She stood up straight and walked back to her office before she could hear another word. She was in a daze, her head swimming. All this time, Andrew has been merely distracting her. He wasn't interested in her romantically, only to help his company grow, and to look at her. Like she was some kind of frosting on the cake of his success. And from what she had hear on the other side of the door, the higher management within Agreste Designs felt the same way. Andrew was only using her. His feelings weren't genuine beyond their relationship as boss and employee. Every glance and every flirtatious conversation was a lure wrapped in a pretty package. A very handsome package. She sat down in her chair after closing her door and felt as heat crept up her neck and over her face. Embarrassment and anger sizzled at her skin, and she took off her cardigan as she started to get hotter. She looked out through her office windows, past the large glass walls and into the heart of Square.
She looked at her hands and her desk and everything around her. She looked around at her space. Her office that she'd worked so hard for. It was covered in beautiful designs and pins and tacks holding up sketches of clothing and accessories. Notes and pieces of fabric were taped and pinned to the walls. Her tattered pink sketchbook sat in a glass case on a shelf, her first book of ideas. She had a whole bookshelf of them now. But, that one nearly-destroyed pink notebook had been the first. She had kept it all this time to remind her why she did what she did. Because little Marinette would be so glad to know that she had made it here. With a horrible sense of dread she realized that none of it mattered. There would always be someone like Alyssandra there to make her feel small. There would always be someone like Brienne who would admire her. And towering above them was Andrew. Focused only on profit and personal gain.
She felt as her eyes started to sting, and hot tears streamed down her face. She brushed them away with her fingertips, but they continued to fall. She promised herself that she wouldn't sob at work, but the tears wouldn't stop. She pushed herself away from her desk and leaned over her knees and let herself cry. Her heart felt like it was cracking a little bit more with every beat, and her frustration and anger faded as the realization of how foolish she had been set in. She had worked so hard to outgrow herself. She knew that she was easily infatuated with boys. In junior high, it had been all about Adrien Agreste. She hadn't even known him that well, but had fallen for him after one simple kind gesture. Looking back, she couldn't really be certain that he wasn't just that nice to everyone. In high school, after Adrien had been taken out of public school, she had jumped from boy to boy until she graduated. In design school, it had been any heterosexual boy that looked her way. She knew that she was boy-crazy. But, after she had been scolded for her behavior by her best friends, Alya and Nino, she had worked to stop being infatuated with every boy that she found mildly attractive.
Yet here she was, crying over Andrew.
Her blood boiled even as the tears continued to fall. He'd led her on, and she'd let him. She'd flirted with him, and trusted him, and let him into her heart. She'd had feelings for him, fairly serious feelings for him. She'd almost thought she loved him. Now, she was certain that he was a scoundrel. She felt like a fool. A silly, stupid, lovesick, hopelessly romantic fool.
Suddenly, everything felt hopeless. If he truly didn't have feelings for her, then there would be only flirting when it suited him, and she would be stuck under Andrew's thumb forever. The thought of Andrew smiling at her with that charming smile of his even one more time, made her teeth sting. Her mind sifted through the possibilities. She could start her own line but it would be too hard. Gabriel Agreste obviously wanted her where she was if Andrew's boss was telling him to string her along. With all of the power that Gabriel Agreste truly had in the world of fashion, she would not get far before he stopped her again. She could stay here at Square, but that wouldn't work, either. She would not be offered a higher place in this company. She realized with horror that she'd had grown as far as she was capable. It was like she took off a pair of glasses that we're keeping her from seeing the truth. A thought struck her; she could leave.
Her head popped up. She couldn't leave. She loved design and fashion and all of the things that came with it. Her success at Fashion Week had been proof of that. She'd worked for years to get here. She couldn't just throw that away. Though, as she thought back to Fashion Week, she had been eager to please Andrew, and prove to him that she was a worthy designer for the honor he showered her with. She hadn't truly enjoyed the stress of the moment. She had enjoyed the satisfaction of success, but nothing else. The crowds, the parties, the stress, the fame; none of it had been what she ever wanted. Her creative soul craved an outlet, and she had always believed that to be fashion. Maybe she had been wrong. She thought back on her years of fashion, both in school and at Square, and what had she truly enjoyed? The designing. Not the clothes or the fashion. The art.
This world of fashion that she had fantasized about her whole life was nothing more than a pretty lie that she had been telling herself. She had practically killed herself to get through fashion school and working to pay off her debts afterward. She had thought many times of giving up. Of picking something else to do with her life, and why hadn't she listened to herself? She had convinced herself that everyone had bad days and continued working for her goals. She had worked her way to the top. And for what? To be here, away from her home and her family? Away from her beloved city? To be stuck with Andrew and Alyssandra?
She had always set aside the nagging feeling that she wasn't good enough to be a designer, or that she didn't want to design for a living. It was a hobby not a passion. But, she had always been so certain. And all of her friends and family had always been so supportive. So convinced that because she was talented that she belonged here, in this world of glittering jewels and pretty things. But now, with the truth of Andrew's deceit still ringing in her ears, she couldn't deny that the feelings she had long pushed down were starting to creep back up. Again the thought struck her. She could just leave. Quit.
The more she entertained the idea, the better it started to sound. The more she thought about what quitting would mean, the more she wanted to do it. She would be free of Alyssandra. She would be free of stressful deadlines. She would be free to design if she wanted not if she had to. If she left the world of fashion forever, she would never again have to impress anyone, or feel like she had to design things that would be what other people wanted and not what she wanted. She wiped the last of the tears from her eyes, and checked her makeup in the mirror on her desk. She had obviously been crying, but her makeup was not too badly damaged. She took another look around her office. Hate and loathing filled her from her toes, and raced up her body until she felt she might explode like a bottle rocket. She opened her drawers and threw everything out in a fit of rage. Papers and folders flew around the small space. She kicked over her trash can and picked up her purse and potted plant. She threw a few of her favorite office possessions into her purse, and zipped it shut. She looked at the desk. The fancy keyboard and drawing tablet. The glass top, and the elegantly white drawers and knobs. None of this belonged to her, anyway. She had all of her own tools and toys at home. Enough was enough. She left the door open and stormed down to Andrew's office. She burst open the door, and smiled kindly at him. She resisted the urge to glare.
He smiled his charming smile, "Mon Chèrie? To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"
Marinette smiled prettily at him, "Monsieur Gris? I have come to tell you that I quit." She slammed the door shut and walked out of the office. She could hear Andrew scrambling behind her to come to stop her.
"Marinette," a clatter of things falling off of his desk, "Wait! Mon Chérie! Please!"
She turned around, calm and confident, "I hope you aren't trying to stop me. I was perfectly clear, I am leaving."
He looked at her dumbfounded, "Mon Chèrie, what is this about? Please, tell me what you're so upset about."
"I am finished here. I have no desire to be strung along merely because I have monetary value." She glared, and flipped her hair as she turned away and walked out of the building. He didn't move to follow her, only cementing her suspicions that he didn't truly care for her.
She walked out into the sun of the day and made it to her apartment before she set her poor plant down on the counter. She had jostled it quite a bit during her hastily getaway and rush to get home. It would take a couple of days for the poor thing to recover. She set her purse down quietly next to the plant, and kicked off her heels. She sighed, pushed her hand through her dark hair, and sank to the ground in tears. She sobbed and Tikki flew from her spot in her pocket.
She frowned, "Oh, Marinette."
Marinette heaved, "I've been such a fool Tikki. A big stupid fool. I should have known. I should have known it was too good to be true. I feel like everything I have ever worked for has been a waste. A waste of my time. A waste of my money. I won't ever learn, will I? I'll just be sweet, stupid Marinette for my whole life."
Tikki smiled, and sat on Marinette's shoulder, "Don't be too upset. You'll be able to find another job. Anyone in the world of fashion would be glad to have you."
Marinette wiped her eyes, "But Tikki, how can I know this isn't how it will always be? To think back and see how long they have been taking advantage of my kindness. How long Andrew has been working to get me to like him. I am so stupid!" She laid on the floor.
Tikki frowned, and laid next to Marinette's face, "But you are so talented. Fashion is your calling, Marinette. Don't let one dumb guy ruin that for you."
Marinette sniffled, "No, Tikki. I don't want to be a part of that anymore. That horrible place where it's all fake smiles and petty words. Where girls like Alyssandra are treated just like girls like me, no matter how much better I am than her. I won't go back, not ever." She sniffled.
Tikki beamed, "I am confident that whatever you do, Marinette, it will be fabulous."
Marinette sniffled, "I don't think so, Tikki."
Tikki frowned at the inconsolable Marinette, and instead of trying to encourage her, Tikki curled up in her hair, and laid near her while she cried.
After she had cried until her eyes stung and her throat was hoarse from hyperventilating, she pushed herself up from the floor. She stood, and walked to her room. She pulled her large set of suitcases from under her bed, and flipped them all open on her bed. She stormed to her closet and gathered all of her clothes, throwing them off hangers and out of drawers and out into the room in a pile. Tikki sat on Marinette's nightstand and watched her tear her room apart.
Marinette pulled a suitcase from the bed and onto the floor and started packing all of her clothes in the suitcase. She folded them nicely and packed the clothes in tight. When the suitcase was full, to the point that Tikki thought it might not close, Marinette zipped it closed and clicked the handle open before dragging the bag to the front door. She stormed back to the closet and packed the rest of her clothes in the next large suitcase, along with several pairs of her shoes. She again pulled the suitcase to the front door.
In the remaining two suitcases Marinette piled in all of her shoes and jewelry as well as her accessories and hair things. She pulled out a backpack and stuffed her hairbrush, toothbrush and a few other essentials into the tattered bag. She set that next to the door as well.
With a sigh, she sat on her bed and looked at her empty closet, and her plain apartment. She had plenty of money, she had her dream job, and yet here she was, completely unhappy. She pulled off her skirt and blouse, and curled up underneath her big soft sheets and blanket. With no job and no plan, she wasn't expected anywhere. She could afford to hide from everything for a few hours. She cried until she fell asleep.
Morning came and she woke up, just as upset as she had been the night before. She didn't feel any less foolish or any less of a failure. She felt well rested, but restless. What should she do now? What would she fill her life with?
She pulled out her phone and called a cab. She could think of only one solution. Only one place where she could be heard and where there would be no judgement for her actions, foolish or wise. When the cab arrived she locked her apartment and the driver helped her load the suitcases and drove toward Paris.
Marinette started to cry as the gravity of her situation hit her. She was unemployed, and unable to find the strength to get a new job or even think about looking for a new job. She was going to Paris in a cab with no way to guarantee that her reckless decision would be worth it. She was honestly heartbroken. After trying so hard to overcome her girlishness, she had been snared by the first handsome guy that looked her way and made her feel a little special. She was torn apart and left like a leaf in the wind. She was in a hopeless situation. She felt stupid for acting so rashly, but couldn't think of anything else to do. She hung her head and wiped her eyes on her sleeves. Thank goodness she hadn't worn any makeup.
Before she was aware, the cab stopped and the driver turned around. He smiled a kind smile, "Miss Dupain-Cheng? Would you like any help unloading your bags?"
Marinette sniffled and sat up straight, "Ah," She breathed, "Yes. Yes, that would be wonderful. Thank you."
He came around and helped her lift the bags out of the trunk. He tipped his hat to her, "Have a good day, Ma'am."
Marinette smiled, "Thanks again."
He drove away. With all of her bags sitting on the sidewalk, she looked up at the bakery. Her eyes stung again as she frowned and pulled her bags one by one up the stairs to the door of the house behind the bakery. She rang the bell and her small mother appeared at the door.
"My Marinette!" Her mother smiled and jumped forward to hold her close. She pushed her back, and looked at her and then to the suitcases behind her. She frowned and looked at her daughter, her eyes red and puffy, "What's wrong?"
Marinette wiped her eyes, "Mama?" Her voice cracked, "can I come in? I," she sniffled, "I didn't know where else to go."
Sabine smiled sadly, "Of course my sweet." She reached behind Marinette and pulled a suitcase inside, "I'll have your father bring up a plate of sweets and you'll tell me what's happened."
Marinette smiled sadly, "Mama, can I come home? I'll explain later, but would you and Papa care if I moved back in? Not for good. But just for a little bit?"
Sabine laughed, "Of course you can come home. Your old room is open to you anytime you want. This is still your home. You still belong here, love."
Marinette smiled, and pulled the remaining bags into the house. Sabine put her hand on Marinette's arm, "Wait here, I'll go get your father and he can help you take your bags up."
Marinette nodded as her mother disappeared down to the bakery. Her father returned in her place and embraced her tightly. The warm and loving arms of her father held her close. Marinette felt as her eyes stung again as she buried her face in his shirt that smelled of flour and yeast.
Without a word he grabbed her bags, all four of them, and walked them up the stairs and into the lofted room. He set the bags down and set his hand on her shoulder before he disappeared again. Marinette smiled at him as he left and turned back to her room once the door to the stairs was closed.
The walls were still a garish shade of bubblegum pink. The pictures of Adrien Agreste, torn from magazines and printed from the Internet, still hung from the walls. Their corners curling from being printed on cheap paper and from hanging for so long. Her old computer sat on the desk, dusty and forgotten. Her small bed tucked away in the loft, and chair in the back of the long room. The stairs that lead up to her bed and the balcony were still covered in the old strings of Christmas lights with pink plastic cat heads over the lights. She smiled at the memories of turning them on late at night, the warm soft glow of the pink lights filling her room. Across from the door to her room, her closet and bookshelves waited for her with all of her things still on the shelves. She sat on her old chair, the frame creaking, and sighed. What was she doing?
If she called now, certainly she could explain to Andrew that she was having an emotional come-apart, and that she didn't really want to quit. She could blame it on her period, that excuse always cleared a girl of all irrational choices. It would be only a partial lie, and Andrew would probably welcome her back. But as soon as she thought it, her anger returned. She would not go back. No matter how much she didn't like the uncertainty of where she was, she had no desire to return to Square. No desire to ever see Andrew again. No desire to be a fool, or to be used ever again.
There was a knock on the door, and Marinette started before calling, "Come in."
Her mother appeared, "My Sweet, tell me what's the matter."
Marinette looked at her mother, "Mama, is it possible to have a mid-life crisis at twenty-three? Because I feel like my life is falling apart."
Sabine laughed lightly, and walked into the room, "Most people have a mid-life crisis after they turn thirty or forty. You are certainly more mature than I think if your life is so horrible that you are having one at your age."
"I quit my job. Just walked into my boss's office and quit." Marinette sighed, "I don't want to go back. I don't know what to do, but I can't work there anymore."
Sabine nodded, "I'm sorry. Would you like to talk about it?"
"Not right now." Marinette hummed.
"I'm here when you do." Sabine smiled, "until then, how about you nap. The bakery closes in an hour and then we can talk about what to do over dinner."
Marinette felt a weight come off her shoulders, a weight that she hadn't really known she was carrying, but she felt a little relief from the world crashing down around her. She smiled at her mother, "That sounds great."
Sabine smiled knowingly and then disappeared back down into the house. Marinette collapsed back into the chair, and ignored the dust. She didn't sleep, but she closed her eyes and listened to her city. The birds on the balcony above her, and the cars on the street outside, the light smell of bread wafting up from the bakery downstairs, all things that filled her with peace and nostalgia. She longed for the feeling of home again. The feeling of belonging.
The smell of the bakery faded, and the smell of a good home cooked meal filled her nose. Before they could come for her, she made her way downstairs. She helped set the small table, and helped to move the food from the kitchen to the table. She was filled with love and peace as she sat with her family on their high chairs at the kitchen counter.
Her father filled his mouth with food, hummed contentedly, and then looked to Marinette. His smile broadened and his deep voice warmed her heart, "So, Mon Petít Chou, what troubles you?"
The familiar childhood pet name broke down her walls and she set her fork down on the table. She sighed, "I quit my job because Andrew was using me to better the company. He led me on and I just," Marinette balled her fists, "I just let him. And I turned a blind eye to all of the things that weren't right. And now I" she sighed, "I don't know if I even want to be a designer anymore. That sounds super lame when I say it like that, but I feel like it will always be the same story if I continue." She frowned.
Tom smiled, "Well, now what are you going to do?" He raised an eyebrow at her.
Marinette looked at him, "What?"
"So, you don't want to design, and you don't want to work where you are. That's fine. You are still young, the time for you to change your life is now. But, you cannot stay like this forever, Chou."
Marinette looked at him, appalled. He was ignoring her troubles. Her heart was breaking and she had come home and he was telling her she was wrong? She felt her anger rise to the surface, and then simmer back down. He father was right. She couldn't stay like this forever. She couldn't have two homes. She sighed and looked back and forth from her mother to her father.
She smiled shyly, "Would the two of you mind if I moved back home? I will find a new job while I figure out what I want to do with my life. But, I don't think I can stay out away from Paris any longer. If you say no, I will understand. But I would like to stay if you'll let me."
Before Tom could say another thing, Sabine clapped her hands together, "Of course you can move here, love!" She smiled.
Marinette smiled with relief, "If I move back here, I have to get the rest of my things from my apartment. Would you mind if I borrowed your car? I will fill it with gas and take good care of it. I promise."
Tom smiled, "That sounds fine."
Marinette relaxed for the first time in days. She finished her food and enjoyed a chat with her parents about the bakery while she ate, and was suddenly very tired. Tom cleared the table, and Sabine ushered Marinette to her room.
"Sleep well, Marinette." She kissed her hair.
Marinette hummed and kissed her mother on the cheek.
As the door to her room closed, she made her way to her bed. She would take the car in the morning, and she would gather her things. She would talk to her landlord and tell her that she was moving out. She would find a new job, and it would all be okay. Feeling more peaceful than she had in weeks, she laid down and fell asleep.
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She woke to a knock on her door. She sat up, sleepy, and knelt down to open it. Her clothes were disheveled, and her hair was frizzy. Her father smiled up at her.
"I have a surprise for you, Mon Chou." he winked.
Marinette started, "What is it?"
Tom's smile widened, "Come and see."
Marinette jumped up and ran down the stairs, running into the wall as she turned the corner, "Where is it?"
Sabine laughed, and pointed outside.
Marinette raced to the window, and saw a moving truck parked out on the curb. It was small, but everything from her apartment would fit perfectly inside it. She felt a rush of emotion well up inside her. She turned around with tears in her eyes, "Mama, Papa, you didn't have to do this."
"We wanted to, Chou. This way you can bring all of your things at once. You can use the spare bedroom to house all of your things for now, and we can help you get rid of things as you need it." Tom set his hands on Marinette's shoulders, "Can I escort you to your apartment and back?"
Marinette turned around and hugged her dad tight, "That would be great, Papa!"
Tom laughed and hugged her back, "But let us eat first. And maybe some fresh clothes and a warm shower will do you good."
Marinette smiled weakly, with a nervous laugh, "That does sound pretty great."
After a hearty breakfast and a change of clothes, Tom and Marinette set off to her apartment. There wouldn't be much to move. The couches belonged to the apartment, as was the table and the matching chairs. All that belonged to her was the furniture and things from the office and bedroom as well as the bookshelves in the front room.
Marinette gave her father directions and they arrived at the small apartment complex. He pulled up to the curb, and Marinette sighed. It was going to be a long day. Tom turned off the truck, and came around to the back, and opened it up to reveal a stack of boxes. Marinette smiled. Parents thought of everything.
They spent the day packing and while Tom moved all the boxes and heavy things downstairs with the help of Carlos across the way, Marinette cleaned and made sure everything was sparkling before she left. The sun was going down as they drove away, and Marinette was tired, but a good tired. They hauled everything inside and filled the spare bedroom with boxes and furniture. They returned the moving truck and Marinette sat on the floor of the spare room, exhausted, but relieved. She was free from her solitude. Free from Andrew. And, free from the stress of being away from Paris. She laid down on the floor, and let her mind be blank as she took it all in. She was home.