The bakery bustled with the usual morning customers, the scent of fresh bread and pastries filling the air. Marinette worked alongside her parents, skillfully packaging orders and greeting customers with a smile.

But amidst the usual routine, there was a different kind of energy—one that radiated off him.

Gurvinder.

Marinette watched as he practically vibrated with excitement, his lips twitching upward as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

Then—finally—Tom approached him, a crisp envelope in hand.

"Here you go, Gurvinder," Tom said with a proud smile, holding out the envelope. "Your first paycheck."

Gurvi's hands stilled as he reached out, carefully taking it like it was the most precious thing in the world. For a moment, he just… stared at it.

Then, with a deep breath, he peeled it open.

Silence.

Marinette watched as his eyes scanned the numbers. Then—slowly—a grin broke across his face.

"Ohhh ho ho—no way," he breathed out, eyes gleaming. "No. Freaking. Way."

"It's real," Sabine chuckled. "You earned it."

Gurvi let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "I— I made this? With my own hands?*"

"Every cent," Tom confirmed, crossing his arms. "You worked hard for it."

Gurvi ran a hand down his face, grinning like a fool. Then—suddenly—he turned toward Marinette, wagging the envelope in front of her dramatically.

"Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng!" he declared. "*Prepare yourself, because I am officially rich now! You, my dear, are getting the finest treat in all of Paris! No—the world!"

Marinette giggled. "Oh? And what might that be?"

"One (1) whole macaron!" he said proudly. "Only the best for you!"

She rolled her eyes, smiling. "How generous."

"But wait, there's more!" Gurvi continued, waving the envelope. "Tom ji, Sabine ji, I shall now present to you—a gift!"

Tom raised a brow. "A gift?"

"Matching handkerchiefs!" Gurvi announced proudly. "So that you may forever be the most coordinated couple in all of Paris!"

Sabine laughed warmly. "That's very sweet of you, Gurvinder."

"Ah, but that's not all!" He placed a hand over his heart. "And finally… for myself…"

He paused dramatically.

Marinette leaned in. "Yes?"

"A brand-new pair of—wait for it—MMA gloves!" he exclaimed. "Because my last pair? Absolutely tragic. An embarrassment to society."

They all laughed, warmth filling the bakery.

But then Marinette noticed something—something different in his eyes.

It wasn't just happiness.

It was pride.

Real, genuine pride in himself.

And that? That was everything.

Tom chuckled, shaking his head. "Gurvinder, you worked hard for this money. Why do you want to spend it on us?"

Sabine nodded in agreement. "You should treat yourself first, dear."

Gurvi blinked at them as if they had spoken in a completely different language. "Treat… myself?"

"Yes," Marinette chimed in. "You earned it. Shouldn't you get yourself something nice first?"

Gurvi tilted his head, as if genuinely confused. "But I am getting something nice. Seeing you all happy? That's better than anything I could buy for myself."

Silence.

Sabine and Tom exchanged a glance, while Marinette felt something tighten in her chest.

"Besides," Gurvi continued, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "You guys gave me a place to stay, fed me, put up with my nonsense— *I owe you.*"

Tom frowned. "Gurvinder, you don't owe us anything."

"Maybe not to you," Gurvi admitted, his voice softer now. "But to me? I do."

There was something in his tone—something heavy.

Marinette saw it again—that brief flicker of something in his eyes. Not just gratitude, but something deeper.

Like he was holding onto something he wasn't saying.

Gurvi, however, seemed to shake it off almost instantly. He grinned again, waving the envelope. "Anyway! Back to the important part! Mari, get ready, 'cause you're about to have the most luxurious macaron of your life!"

Marinette forced a smile, laughing along with him.

But inside?

She knew there was more to this.

Dinner that night felt... different.

For the first time, Gurvinder joined them.

It had taken a whole month for him to finally accept their invitations instead of quietly eating in his room. He hesitated at first, awkwardly shifting as he took a seat at the table, but Marinette saw how her parents welcomed him warmly—like he truly belonged there.

They chatted, laughed, and talked about their day. Tom told one of his famous bakery stories, and Sabine kept piling more food onto Gurvinder's plate despite his protests.

Marinette kept an eye on him the whole time.

And that's when she noticed—

As he took a bite of the homemade food, his hand paused.

His eyes glistened.

For a fraction of a second, a tear slipped down his cheek.

But just as quickly, he wiped it away, pretending like nothing had happened.

No one else seemed to notice.

But Marinette did.

She didn't say anything. She just watched as he took another bite—slower this time—as if he was savoring it.

And in that moment, she realized something.

This wasn't just dinner for him.

This was something he hadn't had in a long time.

A family meal.

A place where he belonged.

Tom set down his fork, leaning forward with a warm smile. "Gurvinder, I have to say—you've been an absolute blessing at the bakery."

Gurvinder blinked, a little surprised. "Oh—uh, thanks, Uncle."

Sabine nodded. "Truly. You wake up before any of us, handle customers with patience, and put in more effort than we could have ever asked for."

Tom chuckled. "Honestly, you work harder than I did at your age. And that's saying something."

Marinette watched as Gurvinder lowered his gaze slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked almost... shy.

"I just... I wanted to do my part," he said, his voice quieter than usual. "You guys gave me a job, a roof over my head, and didn't even ask for anything in return. It's the least I could do."

Tom's expression softened. "You don't owe us anything, son. You earned your place here through your own hard work."

Sabine reached out and gently patted his hand. "You're family now, Gurvinder."

Gurvinder froze.

Marinette noticed how his fingers curled slightly, how his jaw tightened just a bit—like he was trying to hold back something.

Then, he exhaled, giving them a small, grateful smile. "Thank you... that means a lot."

Tom grinned. "Now, if only you'd stop insisting on eating alone in your room, we'd be truly happy."

Gurvinder laughed softly. "Alright, alright. I'll start joining more often."

Marinette smiled.

It was a small moment.

But to him—it meant everything.

As they all got up from the table, heading to their rooms, Gurvinder gently reached out and stopped Marinette in the hallway.

She turned, raising a brow. "What's up?"

He hesitated for a moment, then let out a small breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just… wanted to say thank you."

Marinette blinked. "For what?"

"For everything." He looked at her sincerely. "You and your family… you didn't have to be this nice to me. But you were. You are."

Marinette felt a warmth spread in her chest. "Gurvi, come on, it's not a big deal—"

"No, it is." His voice was firm, but not harsh. "You guys made me feel like I actually belong somewhere."

His eyes softened, and he let out a small chuckle. "And… I also wanna say sorry."

She tilted her head. "For what?"

"For always messing around, teasing you, cracking dumb jokes." He smirked a little. "I should probably keep my behavior in check, y'know? Considering you're basically my house owner."

Marinette rolled her eyes with a small laugh. "Oh, now you're realizing that?"

He chuckled. "Took me long enough, huh?"

She crossed her arms playfully. "Honestly, I don't mind the jokes. Most of them, at least."

He grinned. "Good to know. I'll make sure to only annoy you half as much from now on."

She shook her head but smiled. "You're impossible, Gurvi."

He gave her a wink. "And you're stuck with me now, Mari."

As he walked off to his room, Marinette stood there for a moment, watching him go.

Something about the way he spoke, the way he thanked her… it felt deeper than just gratitude.

Like he was holding onto this kindness as if it was something he hadn't had in a long time.

Marinette, now Ladybug, stood outside the bakery on the rooftop, her suit damp as the heavy rain poured down, drenching the streets of Paris. Thunder rumbled overhead, lightning flashing across the dark sky.

3 AM.

But tonight… Gurvinder didn't come out.

She narrowed her eyes, watching the bakery door, waiting for him to slip out like he always did. Every night, without fail, he would leave at this hour, running through the streets towards his uncle's MMA gym.

But tonight?

Nothing.

The lights in his room were off. The bakery remained silent.

A shiver ran down her spine, and it wasn't from the cold.

Something felt wrong.

CRASH!!!

Ladybug's heart clenched as she heard the sickening crash right outside the bakery.

A car sped off, its tires splashing through the rain, leaving behind a small, helpless puppy, its cries piercing through the thunder.

Her breath caught.

But before she could move—

Gurvinder came running out.

Barefoot, his white turban slightly damp from the rain, he didn't hesitate for a second. He sprinted to the injured puppy, scooping it up as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

He looked around frantically, his chest rising and falling quickly. Then, with shaking hands, he pulled out his phone, fingers moving swiftly as he searched for something.

Then, without wasting a moment, he pulled off his jacket, carefully wrapping the puppy in it, shielding it from the cold rain.

And then—he ran.

Ladybug watched, stunned, as he bolted through the storm, faster than she had ever seen him run before.

Straight toward the nearest animal hospital.

No hesitation.

No concern for himself.

Only that tiny, helpless life in his arms.

Her grip on her yo-yo tightened as she watched him disappear into the rain.

Who are you, Gurvinder Singh?

Marinette—no, Ladybug—stayed perched on the rooftop across from the animal hospital, her fingers numb from the cold rain, her body exhausted from the sleepless night.

She kept waiting.

Waiting for him to come out.

But he never did.

The sky slowly turned from black to deep blue, then to a soft, sleepy gray as the sun began to rise. The storm had passed, leaving only the occasional drizzle behind. Paris was waking up.

And still—no sign of Gurvinder.

She clenched her fists, her mind running in circles. Did he stay inside all night? Did something happen?

But no matter how many questions she asked herself, she had no answers.

Finally, defeated and exhausted, she made her way back home.

She slipped in through her window, transformed back into Marinette, and collapsed onto her bed.

Her last thought before sleep took her—

He'll come back… right?

Marinette rubbed her eyes as she stumbled down the stairs, still groggy from sleep. But the moment she heard her father's angry voice, she snapped awake.

"I trusted him, Sabine!" Tom's voice boomed through the bakery. "For the past month, I've been relying on that boy—depending on him! And today? Today when I needed him most, he's just gone?!"

Sabine, ever the calm one, tried to reason with him. "Tom, we don't know what happened—"

"What happened is that we had customers turning away! The shop wasn't open on time, nothing was prepped, and we lost business because of him!"

Marinette's heart clenched. She had never seen her father this upset before—not at Gurvinder.

But… she understood why.

For the past month, Gurvi had been the first to wake up, the first to start the bakery, the first to make sure everything ran smoothly. Her father had started relying on him like he was family.

And now, without warning, he just wasn't there.

Marinette swallowed, guilt creeping in.

She knew where he was. She knew why he wasn't here.

But how was she supposed to explain it?

The hours dragged on, and the tension in the bakery hung thick in the air.

Evening had settled in, the warm glow of the setting sun casting long shadows through the windows. Tom had long stopped talking, but his frustration was still evident in the way he worked, his movements harsher than usual. Sabine stole worried glances at him, while Marinette found herself anxiously pacing.

Then—

Ding.

The bell to their home rang, breaking the silence.

All three of them turned towards the door as it creaked open.

And there he stood.

Gurvinder.

Barefoot. Clothes damp. His hands trembling slightly, his head bowed low—not in defiance, but in acceptance.

His face said it all. He knew he had made a mistake.

He was ready for the scolding.

He didn't try to explain himself. Didn't make excuses.

He just stood there.

Waiting.

As soon as Tom saw him, the anger that had been simmering all day exploded.

"Where have you been?!" Tom's voice boomed, making even Marinette flinch. "You disappeared without a word! Do you have any idea how much we were depending on you? How many customers we lost because the bakery wasn't open on time?!"

Gurvinder stood there, silent, his head still bowed. His hands were clasped behind his back, his posture straight—not in defiance, but in discipline.

Tom took a step closer, frustration pouring out with every word. "I trusted you, Gurvinder! You were becoming a part of this bakery, a part of this family! And today, you just—vanished?! No message, no warning, nothing! What do you have to say for yourself?!"

Marinette glanced at Gurvi, watching him carefully. His shoulders were tense, his fists clenched behind his back.

But he didn't say anything.

Not a single word.

He just stood there, taking it.

And somehow… that made Marinette's heart ache even more.

Tom's anger boiled over. His hand shot up, about to come down—

But then—

Gurvinder flinched.

It was barely noticeable. A small, instinctive movement. A quick, defensive jerk of his shoulders, as if he expected the hit to come harder than it would have.

Tom froze.

His hand hovered in the air, his own anger suddenly drowned by a wave of shock.

Marinette's breath caught. He flinched.

Gurvinder—who had taken teasing, scoldings, and punishment from his uncle without a single protest—had flinched at a raised hand.

Tom's hand slowly lowered, his expression shifting from fury to something Marinette had never seen before.

Gurvinder, still trembling from the cold, didn't move. His head was still bowed, waiting for whatever came next.

The room was silent.

Tom finally exhaled, his voice quieter now. "…Why did you flinch, son?"

Marinette stepped forward, her voice softer but firm. "Gurvinder, speak up. Please."

Gurvinder hesitated. His fingers twitched behind his back, his shoulders stiff. Then, in a voice so low it barely reached them, he spoke.

"I… I was at the hospital."

Tom's brows furrowed. "Hospital?"

Gurvinder took a shaky breath, his eyes still downcast. "Last night… a car hit a puppy. Right outside the bakery." His voice cracked slightly, but he swallowed hard and continued. "It was crying, struggling… I couldn't just leave it there. So I ran to the nearest animal hospital."

Marinette's chest tightened. She knew this, but hearing him say it—seeing the way his body was tensed like he was bracing for impact—felt different.

"I stayed there the whole night," he admitted. "I ran around trying to get medicine, talked to every vet I could, did everything they told me to do." His hands, still clenched behind his back, trembled. "I spent everything I had. My first paycheck… all of it. But…"

He exhaled shakily. "It wasn't enough."

Silence.

"The puppy died," he whispered. "Just because I didn't have enough money."

His voice broke on the last word. He bit his lip, his jaw locking tight like he was trying to swallow his emotions.

Marinette stared at him, feeling an ache so deep it almost hurt to breathe.

Tom, who had been so angry just moments ago, now stood speechless. His face was unreadable, his big hands slowly lowering to his sides.

Gurvinder still didn't look up.

Because to him, even after everything he did—

It still wasn't enough.

Gurvinder's knees buckled, and before anyone could react, he fell to the floor.

His palms hit the ground, his head bowed so low that his forehead nearly touched it.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice breaking between sobs. "I—I disappointed you. I messed up—I should've been here, I should've worked harder, I—" His breathing was ragged, his whole body shaking.

Marinette's heart shattered.

"I'll work for free this month," he continued desperately. "I'll cover the loss—I'll do extra shifts, I won't take breaks, I—" He sucked in a sharp breath, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can even leave if you want me to…"

Sabine gasped softly. "Oh, Gurvinder…"

But he didn't lift his head. He stayed there, on his knees, as if punishing himself, as if bracing for Tom's final decision.

Tom, who had been so furious earlier, now just stared at the boy on the floor.

This boy, who had worked harder than anyone. Who had taken every scolding without a word. Who had spent every bit of his first paycheck on a helpless animal instead of himself.

And now… was ready to leave because he thought he wasn't enough.

Tom took a deep breath, then crouched down.

And placed a firm, steadying hand on Gurvinder's shoulder.

"You're not leaving," he said. His voice was no longer angry—just… gentle.

Gurvinder tensed, his breath hitching.

Tom squeezed his shoulder lightly. "And you're not working for free."

Gurvinder's head slowly lifted, his tear-streaked face full of confusion.

"You didn't mess up, son," Tom said, his voice thick with emotion. "You saved a life. You tried—and that means something."

Gurvinder stared at him, his lips trembling, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Marinette felt her own eyes sting.

For the first time, someone was telling Gurvinder that he wasn't a failure. That he didn't have to earn his place by breaking himself apart.

And looking at his face…

She realized he had never been told that before.

Sabine knelt beside Gurvinder, rubbing his back soothingly. "Come now, dear, enough of this. You need to rest today. No work, no arguments."

Marinette nodded firmly. "Yeah! You look like you haven't slept in days!"

Gurvinder wiped his face quickly, trying to compose himself. "B-But I have work—"

Tom cut him off with a loud huff. "No, you don't. Not today."

Sabine gently pulled him to his feet. "Go upstairs, take a warm bath, and sleep. That's an order."

Gurvinder opened his mouth to protest, but Marinette crossed her arms. "Gurvi, don't make me drag you upstairs."

That actually made him crack a small, watery chuckle. "I'd like to see you try, shortie."

Marinette gasped. "Excuse me?!"

Sabine smiled at their banter and gave Gurvinder a soft push toward the stairs. "Go on, now. Rest."

Gurvinder hesitated, looking at all of them.

They weren't angry. They weren't disappointed. They were… worried about him.

A lump formed in his throat again. He quickly turned away before he could get emotional all over again.

"...Alright. Just for today," he mumbled, heading upstairs.

Marinette watched him go, sighing in relief. "Finally."

Sabine patted her shoulder. "Stay with him for a bit, dear. Make sure he actually sleeps."

Marinette blinked. "Me? Why me?"

Tom smirked. "Because he actually listens to you."

Marinette scoffed. "Yeah, right. He's the most annoying person I know!"

Sabine chuckled. "And yet, you're already going upstairs."

Marinette paused.

…She was halfway up the stairs.

She huffed, mumbling, "Not because I care or anything," and marched up after him.

Marinette peeked into his room quietly, just to check.

And sure enough, Gurvinder had barely made it onto the bed before he collapsed face-first into the pillow. His body just… gave out.

He didn't even pull the blanket over himself.

Marinette sighed softly. "Idiot…"

She stepped forward, carefully pulling the blanket over him. His breathing was already slow and steady—he was completely knocked out.

For a moment, she just stood there, watching him.

She had never seen him like this before. No witty remarks. No teasing grins. Just… a boy exhausted beyond belief.

Her heart clenched.

With a small shake of her head, she turned and tiptoed back to her own room.

As soon as she shut the door, Tikki floated out. "That was really kind of you, Marinette."

Marinette flopped onto her bed with a sigh. "Tikki… this whole thing is crazy."

Tikki landed beside her. "I know."

Marinette frowned up at the ceiling. "He's crazy. Who does all that work, takes all that pain, and never even complains?"

Tikki's voice was soft. "Someone who thinks they don't deserve to."

Marinette bit her lip.

"...I don't know what to do, Tikki. I can't just ignore this, but… I also don't think he'll let me help."

Tikki hummed. "Maybe it's not about 'helping.' Maybe… it's about being there."

Marinette blinked. "There?"

Tikki nodded. "Just… don't let him feel like he's alone in this. Sometimes, that's all someone really needs."

Marinette exhaled, letting the thought settle.

Maybe… that was it. Maybe she didn't need to fix anything.

Maybe she just needed to stay.

Marinette wiped at her eyes, frustration bubbling up in her chest. "Tikki… it's not fair."

Tikki stayed quiet, listening.

"He was so happy," Marinette whispered, her voice trembling. "He was so proud of himself. It was his first paycheck, and he wasn't even thinking about himself—he wanted to buy me a treat, gifts for my parents… and then maybe—maybe—get something for his gym. But not once did he think about rewarding himself properly."

Tikki's tiny paws pressed against Marinette's hand comfortingly.

"And then today…" Marinette's breath hitched. "He didn't even care that he lost his money. He only cared that it wasn't enough. That he couldn't save that puppy."

She clutched her blanket tightly, shaking her head. "It's like—he doesn't think he deserves to put himself first, Tikki. And that's not…" She exhaled shakily. "That's not okay."

Tikki floated closer. "What are you going to do?"

Marinette's fists clenched. "Something. I have to do something, Tikki. He can't keep going like this.*"

Tikki gave her a sad but knowing smile. "Then do what you do best, Marinette."

Marinette sniffled. "Which is…?"

Tikki giggled softly. "Caring."

Marinette exhaled, wiping her eyes.

She didn't know how, but…

She was going to make sure Gurvinder understood—he wasn't alone.