He couldn't have been prouder to be a model right now. He still had to keep a close eye on Marinette so she was dragged along anywhere he went, including photoshoots and fashion shows. Erek was in school so that was one less person to keep track of, but Marinette was finally attending one of his shows as a primary designer. She had an oxygen tank and mask stored away in the car but was able to go several hours without it, almost a whole waking day, as permitted by the doctors. He simply had to watch for any signs of respiratory distress. So far, so good.

Marinette sat in the second row to allow photographers a better angle. He made extra efforts to glamorize her designs. This woman deserved credit for her work and he was going to make sure the world knew it. Part of him wanted to pull her on stage with him so he could announce her as the designer of most of the clothes he would wear down the catwalk. But that was inappropriate and she would probably kill him for doing it.

He hated having to turn around to go back. Marinette seemed so happy to have her designs recognized… It wasn't too often he got to see a smile that wide. A smile that told him she was having a good time and actually wanted to be here rather than be upset that she had to be dragged here. The ability to eat more probably had something to do with a better mood as well. She still couldn't eat full meals but the hunger pangs had gone away. She wasn't as moody, especially now that her deadlines had been met. She was more patient, generally speaking, and more agreeable. She was nicer, friendlier, and had a more positive outlook. Complete opposite of hospital Marinette.

Plagg, on the other hand, was basically becoming hospital Marinette. His kwami was extremely upset that both Marinette and Erek were now living with him. Plagg said his duties as Chat Noir needed to come first and that he appeared to be prioritizing Marinette and Erek instead. But for some reason, he got the feeling Plagg wasn't being entirely honest about why he was so upset about Marinette—Erek was one thing, a little boy needing constant adult supervision interrupting Chat Noir's responsibilities from time to time—but why Marinette? Sure, he had to watch her, but she hadn't caused any kind of trouble to date. Not for Chat, not for Adrien, and not for Plagg. So it seemed odd that Plagg would consistently complain about Marinette. But he chalked it up to Plagg being more wary of an adult finding out about Chat Noir's identity than a child, who nobody would believe. It made sense but still, Plagg's whining was annoying…

He couldn't wait for this show to end. Marinette was able to walk around more now, after another month of exercise and freedom. He wanted to take her to the park and make good on his promise to let her pick any restaurant to eat at. Chances were, she didn't even remember that promise, but now she could eat a little better and hold it down so she would get a little reward for that. He figured it would be a good time to let her get some air and go somewhere beyond an apartment complex. Maybe that was another reason she was happy to be at a fashion show.

He waited patiently for his next turn to go out, already putting on another Marinette specialty to show it off. A whole team came to help primp the clothes, making sure there were as few wrinkles as possible and not even minute rips or loose strings. Not that Marinette would ever make such mistakes but this was their job.

"We ready?" he asked.

"I believe so. You're on in thirty."

"Thirty minutes, got it," he joked.

"Nice try…go ahead and get into position."

He couldn't contain his smile as he moved to the stage. He didn't usually care about these dumb shows but it was making Marinette so happy he couldn't help but be glad to model for her. He probably would've done this even if he wasn't getting paid for it.

Sure enough, when he walked with swagger down the catwalk, there was a very happy Marinette studying him—well, not him specifically, but how her designs looked in better lighting and on a moving person. The fact that photographers from all over were cheering for her…more or less. The pride she took in her work coming to life and being realized. It all added up to a lot of excitement on her end. Even Chat Noir hadn't seen that smile in a long, long time.

He did this back-and-forth modeling ritual several more times, not because he had to for his line of work, but because he really couldn't get enough of seeing Marinette act closer to her old self—the one he remembered from long ago, before Erek, before everyone moved out, before everyone got busy with their own lives and had pretty much all the time in the world for each other. Before she fell sick.

He wanted to make a funny pose to try to get a chuckle out of her but he had to be all serious.

As the show finally came to a close, he shed his last outfit and replaced it with the one he'd worn before. Hopefully Marinette's designs pleased all the shutterbugs out there. All the ladies and gentlemen who had carved time out of their day to come see some of the best clothes made by a top shelf designer. Someone who could so easily surpass his father one day.

He power-walked over to Marinette, who unexpectedly had her picture taken by a reporter. Unlike him, she wasn't used to the spotlight, so her last-second pose was more or less something that looked like it belonged on a driver's license. A quick smile and wave and she was done. It was just a single photo with one reporter so hopefully her picture would only be shown in a small magazine. Not that there was anything wrong with the way she looked, but he could tell she wasn't comfortable having her picture taken in the first place.

He quickly took back the limelight as he walked past her in front of all the reporters and photographers, all eager to get his opinion on the clothes he'd just modeled and a surprising few asked who his preferred designer was. Obviously, it was Marinette, and not just because she was his friend—he truly admired her genius. But if he admitted to that, the vultures would be all over Marinette. She would be asked a million questions at once, all or most of which she wouldn't know how to answer…or at least wouldn't be prepared to answer. His first few times dealing with all of them was overwhelming. He didn't want that for her.

He took her hand and slowly backed her into the car, acting more as an escort than anything else. Any camera shots were likely of him and with any luck, Marinette was either unnoticeable in the back or a side character nobody would care about, depending on the angle.

She was quick to escape into the passenger seat and duck below the window for extra measure.

He then moved through the crowd of grating voices and blinding flashes to enter the driver's seat, where he glanced at Marinette practically balled up between the seat and the floor to avoid being seen. He couldn't help but laugh at her positioning. Nobody at all would be focused on her anymore but she wanted to take no chances.

"I have a surprise for you," he told her. "But…you have to put on your seat belt first."

"I…I-I think I've had enough surprises, we can just go home," she replied.

It warmed him to hear her refer to his apartment as her home now, but only because she finally felt comfortable enough to say it so casually. When she first moved in, she worded his apartment very stiffly, always clarifying who it belonged to and never daring to call it home.

She groaned nervously.

"It's a good surprise," he assured her.

"I… Maybe we could just go home instead?" she asked. "I don't want my picture all over the place. And then people will follow me everywhere. I'll be famous. No privacy."

An expression of realization came across her face but she didn't speak up about whatever else was on her mind.

"I think you're over-complicating it, Marinette," he chuckled.

She looked at him and said, "And what if news gets out about us dating?"

"We're not, though."

"They'll call it a scandal…"

"You're my designer, Marinette. Everyone knows that, they even announced you at the beginning of the show. It's only natural we'd know each other beyond strangers."

Even the designers that weren't friends or even acquaintances, he'd come to know a little bit about and spoken to them on multiple occasions.

"None of your other designers live with you!"

"And nobody knows that you do," he rebutted. "I make sure to be careful about keeping you and Erek under the radar."

"But I—"

He held a finger to her lips and said, "The surprise was a restaurant. But…if you want to go home instead…"

Her expression settled into a calmer one as she thought about that, clearly beginning to forget about scandals that didn't exist and leaning towards food. It still wouldn't be a huge feast but he was willing to let her have just one full meal and hope she could handle that much food by this point. If not…at least they tried.

She finally sat properly in the seat and put on her seatbelt.

"Well…if you insist…" she mumbled.

"I did promise to take you out to eat after you got out of the hospital, remember?"

"No, not really," she admitted. "But it sounds nice."

"Where do you want to eat?" he asked.

She folded her hands in her lap and furrowed her brows in thought. It shouldn't have taken too much effort to decide on one restaurant and he was loaded, he could afford to buy the whole menu. So an expensive place wouldn't be any issue either.

He was suddenly understanding what Nino kept complaining about when he talked about how Alya was the most indecisive creature when it came to dinner. He said he was the one making suggestions because "she didn't care where they went." Yet, somehow, she shot down nearly every idea he threw at her…but if he dared to ask her where she wanted to go, she "didn't really care" again. Nino had expressed frustration about it before.

Hopefully Marinette wasn't going to be the same way but if she was thinking this hard about it… Only one way to find out, he supposed.

He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted with, "I guess I don't care, you can choose."

"What about that place down the street from here?"

She looked at him and hissed her disapproval.

"Alright. What if we went to that cluster of restaurants near the Eiffel Tower?"

"Most of them are bread or pastries though."

"Okay… There's one near Erek's school…"

She flattened a raised hand and teetered it with a falsely apologetic smile.

Nino was right to complain. This was grating. It was just lunch, it shouldn't be this big a deal for anyone.

"What do you feel like eating?" he asked, hoping that would at least narrow it down.

"I don't know. If there's somewhere in particular you want to go, we can eat there," she answered.

For someone who didn't care or didn't know, she sure was choosy. Maybe now that she was out of the hospital and remained well-fed, she had the luxury of caring.

"Hey, what if we visited your parents' bakery and had lunch with them?" he suggested. "We help their business and you get to see them again. Win-win."

They hadn't visited her parents in a while since they left the hospital. To his understanding, she used to visit her parents rather frequently for short periods of time—the time constraint was largely due to Erek's schedule and working various issues out with Pascal, although he didn't pressure her to tell him what those issues were.

Sometimes he couldn't help but wonder if Marinette would've completely severed all ties with Pascal had it not been for Erek. Perhaps she even planned to break it off much sooner but having a child made it too difficult, like she had found out about her pregnancy too late.

"Yeah…" Marinette finally said. "I do kind of miss dropping by… And maybe I could help out around the bakery again."

He slowly pushed the car through the crowd with a clear destination at last.

"I'm not entirely sure if you should be helping anyone just yet," he said. "I know you want to and it's really sweet, but your clumsiness is the stuff of legends."

She feigned offense with a scoff.

"Sir, I will have you know that I am a master at walking and chewing gum at the same time."

"Oh, after all these years you can finally do that?"

She laughed and said, "Okay, that was actually pretty good."

"I was serious about helping your parents though," he told her. "If you happen to drop a bag of flour, for example, and it puffs up in your face and you inhale that…"

She rolled her eyes.

"There's more to baking than flour, Adrien. It's a delicate process when you want to maintain your status as the best bakery in Paris."

"Well, I will say I love the macaroons there. You did tend to make the best passionfruit macaroons. My personal favorite."

The first time he'd tried a passionfruit macaroon was when they were still teenagers—seventeen, perhaps? He'd never known they served passionfruit until Marinette tripped and spilled a tray of fresh ones on him. He ate the one that had gotten stuck in the folded collar of his jacket and it was blissful. She'd started baking a lot more passionfruit macaroons after he expressed his love for these new delicacies and as a result, they became dangerous and he developed a love-hate relationship with them. He loved them because his best friend would bake them and they tasted absolutely amazing, but hated them because he would pack on pounds he wasn't supposed to by wolfing down ten batches before he even knew how many he'd eaten.

He hoped they hadn't stopped making those.

"I…the bakery, I mean…really only made them because I knew it was your favorite flavor," she said.

"I don't remember ever telling people that. I was a little self-conscious about it since I'd never met anyone else so passionate."

He couldn't help but chuckle at his own joke while Marinette groaned.

"Don't laugh at me for this but the truth is, I only knew because I had some young schoolgirl crush on you at the time."

He almost swerved the car but remained in control. When he stole a glance, he noticed a slight blush. He highly doubted she still had that crush, especially considering how disinterested she was in him back when Alya and Nino were collaborating to set them up for a relationship and how she had so negatively reacted to his first visit to her house before the snake crushed it, but he had a strong suspicion that opening up was embarrassing to some extent and that was what the pink ribbon across the bridge of her nose was.

"I…may or may not have been jealous of Luka back then…" he admitted.

She turned her eyes to him.

"Why would you be jealous of Luka?"

Adrien shrugged. "Because Luka had you."

"You had me too, sort of. In a way."

"Yeah, but not like he did."

"You had me as a friend because you were a teen supermodel and I was just the baker's daughter."

There was a brief moment of silence as he tried to figure out how to respond to that. He did have a crush on her but he had a much bigger crush on his lady. Marinette was extraordinary but for some reason he never pictured her with a significant other. Almost as though he assumed she would be available to him anytime. Then Luka came along and the reality that she had other options hit him hard. He still chose to chase Ladybug but after Luka dared to approach Marinette in any sort of romantic way, he couldn't help but keep an eye on her, too. It was made worse when she started to reciprocate Luka's feelings…and suddenly she was Luka's and she was beyond his reach.

"You were always much more than that to me," he decided.

"You should've told that to my younger self," she chuckled. "She would've passed out."

It was so odd to think that they could've been dating when they were younger. He could've been dating his designer and best friend. And, if he had given up on Ladybug after years of rejection, he wondered what could've happened with Marinette. They were just friends now and he was happy to only be a friend and nothing more, but learning why she was so awkward around him helped paint new pictures of a different future for both of them. He'd wanted to start his own family, get married, settle down, live a somewhat normal life…and he'd tried to see that in other women he'd dated but simply couldn't. Until now. They hadn't been on a single date together but if they had, where would that have gone?

He could form different scenarios with her now, ones that weren't exactly realistic but could've been plausible.

Bringing her red roses and little gifts just because. Having a conversation without her stumbling over her words. Him having some sense of security and intimacy that he'd never known before. Putting a lot of stock into Andre's sweetheart ice cream, and maybe calling her his sweetheart and finally someone would laugh at his puns. No gold digging or pining for fame. Selecting a simple ring for a girl who couldn't care less about a grandiose lifestyle. His heart racing against his sternum in a clear effort to bruise itself as he led her to the Eiffel Tower at night and got down on one knee. She would clasp her hands over her mouth and cry like girls in movies. She would say yes and he would slide the ring on. It would lead to a beautiful wedding exactly as she wanted it. She would walk down the aisle and her father would give her to him. They would say their vows. They would be married. He would wake up to see her every morning.

One day she would tackle him with the force of an akuma and he would be concerned but she would be jumping up and down in excitement. He would ask if everything was okay, already knowing it was, and she would pull out a plastic stick and shove it in his hands. He would look at it and see two pink lines, look at her in confusion because he knew what it was, but what did the lines mean? She would grab his shoulders and announce a bun in the oven—heh, bun, because baker's daughter—and he would feel a sudden weight of joy, anxiety, and responsibility. She would be in the delivery room holding his hand tightly, sweating, pushing, and they would both hear the shrill cry of a newborn. She would hold the baby first then pass the little boy or girl to him. He would see the tiniest human he'd ever seen in his life. They would smile lovingly at each other. Her parents would rush into the room to see the new addition to the family—his family…their family—and his father, maybe.

Press coverage that wasn't scandalous like Marinette had nervously mentioned earlier. Little baby would grow up, maybe have a sibling or two later on, go off to college, get a good job, and start a family of their own. And then they would be in the delivery room again, eager to hold their first grandchild.

He didn't have time to think of anything past that as Marinette slapped a hand over his chest and screamed, "CAR!"

He suddenly became aware of the car stopped at a red light in front of him and slammed his brakes. It threw them both forward and the seatbelts snagged to catch them before they hit the dashboard.

"Adrien!"

"I'm sorry, I know, I was off in my own world for a minute."

"Yeah, a long minute!" she growled. "You weren't even listening, were you?"

"I…of course I was listening," he said.

"Really now? What did I say?"

"You…uh… Yeah, no, I wasn't listening…" he confessed. "I'm sorry."

"I was saying you missed two turns to get to the bakery. And why are you daydreaming behind the wheel?!"

He bit his lip and sheepishly smiled at her. There was no way he was going to tell her that her crush on him over fifteen years ago had caused his imagination to spiral so far.

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose in response.

"Just drive…" she muttered. "Safely."

He took advantage of the red light and looked around to get his bearings again. It wouldn't be hard to turn around from here and the bakery was only a minute or two away from this exact location.

The light turned green and he moved into the next lane, preparing to turn. As soon as she felt the car move forward, Marinette opened her eyes again. He was pretty sure this was a safety precaution rather than sightseeing on the way to her parents' bakery.

He hoped she wouldn't be telling her parents this story as he parked near the side of the bakery.

"Cannot believe you almost got us killed…" Marinette mumbled.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what else you want from me," he said. "I was just thinking."

"About what?! What could possibly be so important that it risks two people's lives?"

Thankfully, she didn't wait for an answer—something he didn't have anyway—and huffed as she got out of the car. She slammed the door closed just in case he didn't understand how angry she was at him. She cast one last warning glare at him before she turned around and stormed into her parents' bakery.

Confirmation that she did not, in fact, still have that old crush on him.

He got out his phone and pulled up Nino's and his past texts.

Adrien: Hey, couple of questions. How often does Alya get mad at you, what for, and how do you calm her down?

He knew better than to expect an immediate reply but this one time Nino came through in clutch and he got an answer before he touched the doors.

Nino: Lol what did you do?

Adrien: Something stupid.

Nino: Scale of 1-10?

Adrien: Probably 8, I think?

Nino: Not good, how PO'd is she?

Adrien: Probably another 8.

Nino: You realize Marinette isn't Alya right?

Adrien: You have more experience living with women.

Nino: Not living with Marinette.

Adrien: She's technically a woman.

Nino: Technically?

Adrien: Help.

Nino: Depends on what you did, bro.

Adrien: I almost crashed the car with her in it…

Nino: Yikes. You need to get some serious brownie points back after that.

Adrien: How?

Nino: I clean the house and get the kids ready for bed or school.

Adrien: I have a clean apartment and no idea how to cook at her level.

Nino: Doesn't matter. Women love it.

Adrien: And if that doesn't work on Marinette?

Nino: Use chocolate as a peace offering.

Adrien: Isn't chocolate a Valentine's Day move?

Nino: Not if you ditch the heart boxes and pretend it's a thoughtful gift.

"Adrien, are you coming in?" he heard Marinette say from a half-opened door.

"Yeah, be right there."

He received one last text from Nino.

Nino: Good luck.

He sighed heavily and walked into Sabine's and Tom's bakery, not to be greeted by Marinette of course, but by the heavenly scent of different pastries. Perhaps there would be some chocolate here. Or perhaps she was just hungry and moody and him daydreaming about a future with her that didn't and couldn't exist, which by extension nearly resulted in a car wreck, made it worse. It was stupid to wonder about, but he couldn't help it—did she imagine anything about him? Not that it was of any concern to him but at least he wouldn't have been the only one thinking about weird things.

"Hello, Tom," he said as he shook the man's hand. "Nice to see you again."

"I appreciate you stopping by," Tom replied. "It's so good to see Marinette in better spirits again."

Pfft. Sure. Better spirits.

"I promised I'd take her out to eat after she got out of the hospital. This was the only place she agreed with."

Tom chuckled and said, "I have the exact same problem with Sabine when I ask her where she wants to go for dinner. Marinette must get it from her."

Between Alya, Sabine, and Marinette…this had to be a woman thing. Had Tom ever complained about this like Nino?

"Speaking of Sabine and Marinette, where are they?" Adrien asked.

Tom turned his head towards the corridor leading out of the storefront.

"Marinette told us what happened and Sabine started telling her about my driving mistakes… They're in the living room, just talking, if you want to join them."

"No, I'm…I'm good. I think I'll wait out the storm, she is furious at me."

"Well, son, if it helps, I'm in the doghouse with you. When Marinette was young, I overshot a turn and the car almost flipped. Blew two tires and scared Sabine to death. She never let that go and now Marinette reignited the fire…"

Adrien quickly glanced at the corridor, where two muffled voices were discussing something, and apologetically looked back at Tom.

"I am so sorry," he said.

"Don't be, I'm used to it," Tom laughed. "By the way, Sabine and I have been talking and with Marinette and Erek living with you, we have a few questions."

"Of course, ask me anything."

"Well, to start, I—we—would love to know if our daughter may have opened up to you a bit. It's been a while since she moved in and Erek's admiration for you is wonderful…and as a mother, we believe that impresses her. And that…you impress her. Enough to maybe tell you things we wonder about but don't know."

"I seriously doubt I impress her, but I don't think she's opened up to me much. She mentioned feeling bad about her designs, she convinced herself that they were no good since I didn't look them over."

Tom's face softened and he looked to his side, pretending to inspect his display bread from afar.

"What about Pascal? Did she tell you anything about him?"

Actually, Marinette seemed to intentionally avoid those conversations. She told him the bare minimum of what happened with him, spread out over time and mostly in passing. She was forced into telling him about having issues with Pascal only by circumstance. She would have to go get Erek from time to time sooner than the boy was supposed to return to her care, which meant he had to come too so he could keep watch over her, but she didn't explain what was going on at any given time. He didn't probe Erek for any information about it either, considering it too personal to get involved. Not to mention, a young kid could easily misinterpret a situation better understood by adults, especially if that situation involved childcare and custody.

"She told me that she has problems with him. That's it though. I know the basics from Sabine but I haven't let on to Marinette. I have a couple of ideas but…I'm not sure how true they are and I don't want to jump to conclusions."

"Is it possible to ask her…maybe find something out? Something her mother and I didn't know before?"

"Like what? Is she okay?"

His first thought was that Pascal was somehow endangering her but she didn't seem scared of him in the least. In fact, all the interactions he'd seen to date were rather tame and civil compared to what they could've been. He was certain a few words would be exchanged but aside from restrained hostility, there were no signs of any threat to her or Erek. He'd come to assume that the reason she didn't want Pascal raising him was more or less because she deemed him an incompetent father.

"That's…actually what we'd like to know…" Tom sighed. "You didn't hear this from me but after Marinette became pregnant, her self-esteem started to deteriorate. She would sometimes call her designs doodles; they were never good enough for her or Agreste. She would say things like, 'Adrien must really hate showing that trash off to the world.' Not long after Erek was born, we didn't hear from her as much. She didn't come by as often and when she did, she was never herself. It was like watching a bad actress who hated being on set."

"Did…Pascal have anything to do with that?"

"Marinette would always tell us things were fine and not to worry about it, but Sabine and I both think he was doing or saying things to her. As her parents, we at least want to know the truth."

"I'll..." He sighed heavily. "I'll ask her, I guess, but if she answers me and telling anyone else betrays her trust…"

Tom nodded his head. "I understand. I would never ask you to betray my daughter in any way. I get the feeling she's been hurt enough."

Tom looked him in the eye and continued, "Which, incidentally, brings me to my next question."

"Of course."

"My daughter isn't a little girl anymore," Tom said. "She's a woman now, living with a man…"

Oh boy. He could already feel a blush, a little warmth in the face… He knew where this was going.

"Last time this happened," the man added, "certain actions were performed and resulted in an addition to the Dupain-Cheng clan… Now that there's another man in the same living space, I think I'm right with concerns that the same thing may happen again."

He was fully prepared to give a list of reasons why such a thing would never happen, but convenience was on his side and Marinette's anger turned from him to her father as she stood snarling in the corridor.

"Adrien and I haven't done anything!" she growled through clenched teeth. "We don't like each other that way, if we ever do we are adults and can make our own decisions without parental consent, I already have a son, and even if—"

Marinette immediately cut herself short and looked at him in irritation that he could only hope was meant for her father. He averted his eyes and stared at the very interesting loaf of bread on the countertop because Adrien was not part of this conversation.

"I can't," Marinette finished.

He dared to look back at Tom and noticed Marinette's challenging eyes back on her father in his peripheral vision. She had moved an inch away from the man's chest. Her fists were balled up and she was standing in a steadfast position, like she was wholly prepared to take a physical hit from Tom. As if she was sizing him up to gauge what kind of impact she would need to brace for. It was…strange.

"I know," Tom finally answered. "I'm sorry, sweetie."

Sabine cautiously approached Marinette from behind, as though she was afraid of being pulled into the trouble Tom had gotten into, and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Honey, we should probably eat something," she said to Marinette. "I made some lovely quiche earlier today. If you're still hungry after that, we have some galettes in the oven. You love galettes."

Marinette visibly relaxed and nodded, taking her eyes off her father and moving them more peacefully to her mother.

As Sabine served her quiche—which was just as delicious as he remembered from the first time trying it—he couldn't help but think back to what Marinette meant earlier. He didn't really want to know, but he also did want to know. Obviously her parents understood what she couldn't do, they understood the context without her having to finish it. But he didn't. The last thing she mentioned before saying, "I can't." was Erek. More specifically, "a son." One son. No siblings. Just…a single son. Why did she bother bringing Erek up?

Was she saying that "the same thing happening again" was improbable? Or did she mean it a step further…and it was impossible? They weren't doing anything at all that could lead to pregnancy but even if they were—he had to stop himself from shuddering at the mere thought of doing such things with her—did she mean she was on birth control or…did something else happen?

But what could've happened? Her illness? Perhaps her fertility succumbed to it? He wasn't sure how that was possible when, last time, it attacked her lungs. And the doctors said it was usually bruising and internal bleeding. The lungs were internal bleeding so that was one thing, but she had no bruises that he was aware of or had seen since she moved in with him, so those could've been from Pascal. No true evidence yet but…from everything he'd gathered so far, it was pretty likely.

Although…he'd seen bruises on her the first time he'd taken her to a hospital and by then, Pascal was no longer in her life enough to get that physical and leave that many bruises. So if they didn't come from him, where was she getting them? And how did it affect her ability to have more children?

Maybe it was Erek…? Or, more aptly, her first—and only—pregnancy. She'd been sick before, during, and after it. It wouldn't be too farfetched to consider it high risk.

It was a question he supposed he could ask her after they left. The worst she could do was yell at him and then ignore him for the rest of the day. But he didn't actually think about what would happen if he probed her. He would never manipulate Erek into talking, no matter what, but how much information would Marinette be willing to give him if he asked her directly? What would she confide in him, if she did? Maybe this could be a kind of test for the both of them. Something to reveal how much she trusted him with her secrets.

But how would he approach that?

He tried to come up with a game plan until it was time to leave. It was difficult to decide which plays to use and when, just like when he initially asked Marinette to move in with him. Despite his good intentions, she did not take kindly to his idea. He wouldn't soon forget that conversation.

And now he better understood why Marinette was so quick to assume he hated her designs rather than trying to be reasonable and understand that there were other potential reasons he hadn't stopped to look at them. They were amazing but if she had been told otherwise by someone whose opinion she valued—such as his opinion, actually, when she thought he didn't like her "doodles"—then of course her self-criticism would soar to unrealistic expectations. Of course she would also start hating her works. Of course she would end up calling them all trash.

It wasn't his decision to make but he never wanted her to see or speak to Pascal ever again.

"Adrien," Marinette said, pulling him from his thoughts. "You're staring at me again…"

He was tempted to play it light and fluffy and tell her it was because she was a visual treasure, or something witty like that, but the conversation with Tom earlier had put him out of that mood and he figured dropping lines like that wouldn't be the most appropriate thing to do right now.

"Sorry," was all he could come up with.

Why would Chat Noir come up with perfect—hah, purrrfect—comebacks and clever—hahahhhhh, clawver—lines but Adrien was just…Adrien.

"We need to go, Adrien," she said.

"Oh, yes, of course." Her oxygen.

He got out of his seat and extended a hand to her in a gentlemanly fashion, but she acted like it wasn't there and stood up herself.

"Thanks for the quiche," she told her mother.

He noticed that her mood was much more uplifted than it had been prior. Maybe she really did just need to be fed.

Sabine and Tom both gave Marinette a quick hug goodbye, telling her how much they loved her and to come back soon and bring Erek so they could train him in the art of baking.

As the two got back into the car and put their seatbelts on, he remembered the questions he had for Marinette. He could not forget to ask her those questions. He really hoped she… Hmmmmm…that was one way to get to the point.

"I'll be so glad when I don't need that mask anymore," Marinette said. "I could spend all day wherever I want without a babysitter."

Actually she would always need a supply of oxygen. She was following the doctors' orders very well so far, so her lungs were undoubtedly well on their way to a full recovery, but…they would still have a lot of scars all over them. She would never breathe like she used to. She wouldn't be able to exercise as long or as hard, wouldn't be able to play certain games, wouldn't be able to hold her breath…she wouldn't be able to live her old life again. Surely she understood that…

The goal was to keep an oxygen supply but try to get her off it completely, making the oxygen supply a backup in case of a relapse or an emergency. It was something Marinette was on board with. She saw it as more of a compromise than a medical solution.

"I…I-I have a question for you," he said, his heart fluttering.

"Okay."

"I don't want you to feel pressured to tell me anything if you don't want to, but earlier, when you and your dad were…uh…'talking,' what did you mean when you said you couldn't? What couldn't you do?"

If she could answer this question comfortably, or at least comfortably enough to not hate him for asking it, then maybe the question of her relationship with Pascal wouldn't be as coldly received.

"Don't worry about it, it's fine," she answered.

"I'll always worry about you, Marinette. But I completely understand if you don't trust me enough."

"No, no, that's not it. I-I do trust you…I just… I don't… I-It's really nothing, it happened a long time ago…and I don't want pity…"

He pressed the accelerator with his foot.

"What happened?" he asked.

"It's not a big deal…" she sighed. "Just can't get pregnant anymore."

"I'm so sorry, Marinette," he said.

"Don't be. It's not your fault."

"Are you okay now?"

"As long as people don't feel sorry for me, yes."

He sucked in a breath so deep his chest should've popped. It didn't go undetected and Marinette looked at him in confusion.

"Are you okay now?" she asked, playing off his earlier question to her.

"I have another question," he confessed. "It's…uh, well…it's a little…personal."

"More personal than my body?" she chuckled. "Not likely."

"If you don't want to answer it, please don't feel like you have to." Another breath for the big moment, a little more shallow and quicker this time though. "What's…the deal with Pascal?"

"He's my ex and Erek's father…?"

"No, I already know that, I mea—"

"Oh, the phone calls! Don't worry about it, it's mostly just about Erek's school and schedules. It can be…challenging to communicate with Pascal sometimes."

"Not the phone calls either, or the meetings or whatever else. I meant in the past," Adrien clarified. "What was your relationship with him like before you guys broke up?"

"Why do you care?"

"Curious, I guess?"

Marinette looked at him skeptically at first, as if she had to decide how sincere his extremely simple answer was. He himself didn't actually know how sincere he was though. Although he had questioned it in his mind a few times, he hadn't been too serious about knowing. If Marinette had still been with Pascal then yes, he absolutely would've cared and would've gone out of his way to learn more so he could intervene. But Marinette only spoke to Pascal when it concerned Erek. At least…that was what he concluded from the times they would meet up and what he would occasionally overhear from phone calls.

"What made you so curious all of a sudden?" she pressed.

Her parents.

"It's been a while since you moved in," he said, quoting Tom's words. "You haven't told me much. I didn't want to pressure you."

She eyed him for a minute but conceded.

"I met him at the bakery a long time ago. He would come back every day and the conversations were interesting. He asked me out on a date and I said yes. Eventually he moved in with me, Erek was born, and we broke up."

"Did anything, uh…else happen?"

Her evasiveness on any details beyond how they met kept supporting her father's suspicions.

"Like what?"

"I dunno…you pretty much glossed over the entire relationship…"

"What else do you want to know? Things started, things happened, things ended. Seems pretty cut and dry to me."

"I, um…" He didn't want to throw Tom under the bus…but he also didn't want to come back empty-handed if he could avoid it… "A-A little birdie told me you weren't yourself for a while…"

"Well, yeah, my hormones were all over the place when I was pregnant. It was so bad I would get frustrated because I only ever got morning sickness at night and nobody called it night sickness. And you try sleeping with a little person using your organs as a home gym. He would kick me in a certain place and it would knock the wind out of me every time."

"I'm pretty sure they didn't mean just the pregnancy."

"I was tired from taking care of a newborn," she said. "Erek didn't like to sleep by himself, I would wake up multiple times every night to rock him and feed him, then he had to sleep in the bed with Pascal and me because he hated his crib and…I guess neither of us knew how challenging babies could be until we had one."

"Was Pascal excited?"

"Yeah, he was. He couldn't wait to hold Erek in the hospital. His dream was to get married and start a family."

"Marry…you?"

"Not me specifically," she said. "We talked about it but then Erek was born and it put a lot of strain on our relationship. Sleepless nights were irritating, it affected his job more than mine, and raising Erek was even more exhausting."

"Was he nice to you?"

Not that he wanted to disregard anything else Marinette was telling him but these details weren't really details. Of course a new baby would be exhausting, yes the lack of sleep would get to anyone. It would definitely put a strain on anyone's relationship. A hormonal pregnancy and nighttime morning sickness weren't anything out of the ordinary.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she questioned.

"Just, you know… W-Was he a nice person?"

"Of course he was nice."

"But…you seem a little tense around him…"

"You'd be the same way if you had to co-parent with your ex."

She…kind of made a really good point there. But he also felt like he wasn't going to get anything significant out of this little chat.

"Anything else you'd like to know about my private life?" she asked, an undertone of annoyance in her voice.

"No," he answered. "I'm glad you were happy with him for so long, you deserved it."

At first he thought she might've been even more irritated by a last remark on her relationship with Pascal, but there was a flash of hurt in her eyes that made him regret ever bringing this up.

"Thanks," she softly murmured.

She shifted in her seat to get more comfortable and stared out the window. The remainder of the ride back to his apartment was uneasily silent.

He had to mentally apologize to Tom. He'd asked, as he said he would, but if Marinette didn't feel like telling the world her life story, then that was okay too. At least now he could respect her boundaries again—boundaries he had to have crossed today.

A/N

You guys better enjoy this one because it's TWENTY PAGES LONG. Work has been very stressful but I made time! :D I'm finally going on vacation too, so I won't be uploading any new chapters for at least a full week. Hopefully the sheer bulk of this one compensates for that...hah...hahah...

Anyone notice she's acting kinda...wifey? WINK WINK.