Adrien sat in his usual seat at school, his elbow resting on the desk, his fingers idly tapping against his cheek. His mind was clouded, thoughts swirling like an untamed storm.

It wasn't like him to lose focus. He had spent years perfecting the mask he wore—the perfect son, the charming model, the ever-cheerful Chat Noir. But today, his mind wobbled around something he couldn't shake off.

Two girls.

Two important girls.

Ladybug and Marinette.

Both of them were worried—for the same guy.

Gurvinder.

Adrien frowned slightly as he stared at the board, not really reading the words written on it.

Ladybug, his partner, the strongest person he knew—she had cried while fighting for Gurvinder. She had lost control of herself in anger because of him.

And Marinette? She had been talking about Gurvinder more and more, texting Alya late into the night about him, watching him closely, caring.

Adrien tightened his jaw.

Was he jealous? No, it wasn't just that. It was confusion.

Who was Gurvinder? Where did he even come from? Why was he suddenly so important?

Why was he making both Marinette and Ladybug look at him differently?

Plagg, who had been floating lazily inside Adrien's school bag, peeked out, his green eyes narrowing.

"You're thinking way too hard about this, kid," he said, yawning. "Just admit it—you don't like this Gurvinder guy getting all the attention."

Adrien sighed. "It's not that, Plagg. It's just… Marinette and Ladybug, they've never acted like this before. I've known them for years, and now suddenly, they're both so worried about him."

Plagg smirked. "Sounds like someone's feeling left out."

Adrien didn't respond. He knew it wasn't just about being left out.

It was about something shifting, something changing.

And Adrien wasn't sure if he liked it.

Adrien turned his head slightly, his gaze settling on Gurvinder, who was sitting beside him, completely focused on the lesson.

It was strange. Just yesterday, this guy had taken a direct hit from an akumatized villain. Just yesterday, he had been trembling from exhaustion, barely able to stand. And yet, here he was—back to being calm, focused, and seemingly unaffected.

Adrien's eyes narrowed.

How?

Even when Adrien himself had been injured in fights as Chat Noir, he always felt sore the next day, no matter how much magic Ladybug's Miraculous Cure worked. But Gurvinder? It was like nothing had happened.

Doesn't he feel pain?

Or… was he just used to it?

Adrien glanced down at Gurvinder's hands resting on the desk. His knuckles were bruised—not fresh, but not old either. It didn't take a genius to figure out that they weren't just from training.

Adrien knew what fighting injuries looked like.

He had seen them on himself after battles.

But why would Gurvinder have them?

Adrien's grip tightened on his pen.

Something wasn't adding up.

during lunch as Gurvinder chatted with his friends, Marinette sat a little farther away, still watching him. He was laughing at something Nino had said, his usual playful energy masking any signs of exhaustion from the past few days.

Nearby, another student had his phone out, scrolling through the news. His screen displayed an article about the rising levels of immigrants in Paris, how more and more were arriving daily, many struggling to find shelter, living on the streets.

"That's crazy," the student muttered. "No wonder things are getting more crowded."

A few others glanced at the screen. One of them scoffed. "Yeah, and now they're everywhere. You can't walk two blocks without running into them."

Marinette's eyes darted toward Gurvinder, wondering if he was listening.

He was.

But he didn't react.

Not a single change in his expression. No anger, no frustration. Just that same neutral face as he continued eating, as if he hadn't heard a thing.

But Marinette knew better.

He heard it.

And the fact that he didn't react? That meant he had probably heard things like this before. Maybe too many times.

she watched him go to the wash basin, she followed him with the intention of talking to him.

Marinette hesitated for a moment before standing up and following Gurvinder.

He walked to the wash basin, rolling up his sleeves as he turned on the tap. The cold water splashed against his hands, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring at the sink. His reflection in the mirror above it looked… tired.

She took a deep breath and stepped beside him. "Hey."

Gurvi glanced at her, raising a brow. "Oh? The great Marinette Dupain-Cheng has graced me with her presence at the sacred hand-washing station? What an honor." He smirked playfully, but there was something off about his usual teasing tone.

Marinette rolled her eyes but didn't take the bait. "I, uh…" She hesitated. How was she supposed to bring this up? She saw how he reacted—or rather, didn't react—to the comments at the table. Maybe she was overthinking it.

Gurvi noticed her hesitation. He finished washing his hands, shook off the excess water, and leaned against the sink. "Spit it out, Maricon. You've got that 'I'm about to say something serious' face on."

She sighed. "I saw you… I mean, I heard what they were saying. And I saw you just… ignore it."

His smirk faltered just slightly. "And?"

"And… doesn't it bother you?"

He looked at her for a moment before letting out a short chuckle. "You think this is the first time I've heard stuff like that?"

Her heart clenched at his words.

"It's just how things are," he continued. "People talk. People assume. People don't understand. And it's not my job to make them understand." He reached for a paper towel and dried his hands. "So, I don't waste my energy on it."

Marinette frowned. "But that's not fair."

Gurvi's smile returned, but this time, it didn't reach his eyes. "Life isn't fair, Maricon."

She wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him that he shouldn't have to just accept things like this. But looking at him now, the way he held himself—not angry, not sad, just resigned—she realized this wasn't something new for him.

It was something he had dealt with for a long time.

And that hurt more than anything.

Back in class, Marinette found herself paying closer attention—not just to Gurvinder, but to how the teachers treated him.

She watched as he raised his hand to ask a question, only for the teacher to look right past him and call on someone else. His hand slowly lowered, and he didn't ask again.

Another time, he was barely a second late in flipping to the right page, and the teacher snapped at him. "Keep up, Singh. This isn't a place for daydreaming."

Marinette clenched her fists. He wasn't daydreaming—he was exhausted. She could see it. His movements were sluggish, his legs trembling ever so slightly when he stood to answer a question. His voice, usually firm and teasing, was quieter today.

Then came another scolding. This time for something even smaller—his notebook wasn't perfectly aligned with the desk's edge.

She saw the way his fingers curled into a fist before he forced them to relax.

He stood there, his back straight but barely holding, his legs trembling just slightly beneath him. His body was betraying him, screaming for rest, but he stood still, silent, enduring.

It wasn't just unfair.

It was wrong.

And Marinette felt something dark and heavy settle in her chest as she realized—he was used to this too.

As the final bell rang, Marinette barely had time to process everything before Alya pulled her aside.

"Girl," Alya whispered, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "You saw that, right?"

Marinette crossed her arms. "You mean how they keep treating Gurvinder like he doesn't exist? Or how they do acknowledge him, but only to scold him?"

Alya nodded, looking frustrated. "I don't get it. He's literally one of the hardest-working guys in this whole school. He never even talks back. And still, they act like he's some troublemaker."

Marinette sighed. "I saw how tired he was today too. He was barely holding himself up."

Alya's brows furrowed. "He never complains, never fights back. I mean, he could. The guy knows MMA. He took down those seniors without breaking a sweat. But when it comes to the teachers, he just… takes it."

Marinette looked down, gripping her bag tighter. "Because he's used to it."

Alya was quiet for a moment before sighing. "This is messed up, Mari. What are you gonna do?"

Marinette didn't answer right away.

Because truthfully, she didn't know.

Back in the classroom, the atmosphere was tense. A group of girls sat together, whispering among themselves as they glanced toward Gurvinder's empty seat.

"I don't get it," one of them muttered. "Why are some of the teachers so harsh on him? He barely talks in class, and he's always on time."

Another girl nodded. "Yeah, and did you see how tired he looked today? He was literally shaking when he stood up."

Meanwhile, some of the guys were having a similar conversation near the windows.

"Dude, did you see Mr. Laurent ignore him when he asked a question?" one of them said. "Like, straight-up acted like he wasn't even there."

"Yeah, and then later, he scolded him for 'not paying attention' when he was literally looking right at him."

One of the guys leaned back in his chair, frowning. "I dunno, man. Feels like they're just picking on him."

Marinette overheard all of it from her seat, her fingers gripping the edge of her desk.

So it wasn't just her and Alya who noticed.

Others were seeing it too.

And that only made it worse.

As soon as the final bell rang, Marinette wasted no time. She rushed through the hallway, weaving between students until she spotted Gurvinder heading towards the exit. Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

"Alright, that's it," she said, breathing heavily. "You have to tell me what's going on."

Gurvinder blinked at her, his usual smirk barely forming before fading. "What do you mean, Maricon?"

Marinette tightened her grip. "Don't play dumb! I see everything, Gurvi. The way you barely sleep, how you work yourself to exhaustion, how some of the teachers treat you like you don't belong—" she paused, lowering her voice as anger and concern mixed in her chest. "Why do you just take it?"

His expression didn't change. Instead, he gently pried her fingers off his arm. "It's nothing new, Marinette," he said, voice calm but distant. "People have their opinions. I just do my work."

Marinette's frustration boiled over. "But it's not okay! You're hurting yourself! And don't even try to say you're fine—I saw you trembling today! You can barely stand sometimes, and yet you still—"

"Because I have to!"

His sudden outburst silenced her.

For the first time, Marinette saw something raw in his eyes. A mix of exhaustion, resignation, and something deeper—something he wasn't willing to say out loud.

Gurvinder took a breath and looked away. "I don't have the luxury to stop, Marinette," he said quietly. "If I slow down, I lose everything. If I fight back, I make things worse. So I don't. I keep going."

Marinette felt her heart tighten at his words. She wanted to say something—to tell him he wasn't alone, that she would fight for him if no one else would. But before she could, he forced a small smile.

"Don't worry about me, Maricon." He gave her a light tap on the forehead. "You've got your own life to deal with. I'll be fine."

And just like that, he turned and walked away, leaving Marinette standing there, fists clenched, heart heavy, and more determined than ever to uncover the truth.

Adrien had been standing nearby, just out of sight, but he had seen everything.

The way Marinette ran after Gurvinder, the desperation in her voice, the frustration in her eyes—it was unlike anything he had ever seen from her before.

He had seen her concerned about people before. He had seen her fight for her friends. But this… this was different.

As Gurvinder walked away, Adrien noticed how tense Marinette remained, how her fists were still clenched at her sides. Her lips were pressed into a firm line, her eyes filled with something Adrien recognized all too well—determination mixed with something deeper.

Something that made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

Plagg, hidden inside Adrien's jacket, whispered, "Oof. That was intense."

Adrien didn't respond. He was too lost in thought.

For the past few weeks, Ladybug had been fixated on Gurvinder. Now, Marinette was doing the same.

And he hated how much it bothered him.

back at home after school, Gurvinder was busy kneading dough when Marinette stormed into the bakery, her eyes blazing with frustration. The bell on the door jingled violently as she entered, making Sabine glance up in surprise.

Gurvi, however, barely looked up. He just kept working, his sleeves rolled up, flour dusting his forearms. His usual playful smirk wasn't there—he just looked tired.

Marinette didn't care.

"You're just going to pretend like nothing happened?" she demanded, crossing her arms.

Gurvinder finally sighed, wiped his hands on his apron, and turned toward her. "Mari-con, I'm working. What happened now?"

"You happened, Gurvinder!" she snapped. "You let them talk to you like that, treat you like that! You don't say anything!"

He blinked, clearly taken aback, then shrugged. "What do you want me to do? Fight them? Get myself kicked out? People like me don't have the luxury to talk back, Marinette."

Her heart clenched. "That's not true! You—"

"It is true." His voice was quieter now, more tired. "I can't afford to mess up, Mari. I have to keep my head down and work. That's just how it is."

Her anger faltered for a second. The way he said it—like it was just a fact, something he had accepted—made her feel sick.

He gave her a small smirk, trying to lighten the mood. "Besides, are you that worried about me? Should I start calling you Mari-guardian instead?"

She ignored the teasing this time. "I am worried. You act like nothing gets to you, but I see it, Gurvinder. I see how they look at you, how they treat you. And I hate that you just take it."

His expression shifted slightly—just for a second. A flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes before he looked away.

"Thanks for worrying," he said, going back to kneading the dough. "But don't waste your energy on me, Marinette."

But she wasn't going to let it go. Not this time.

marinette again tried to intervene, to ask him again but this time gurvi talked back to her, "you know me just for a month marinette why do you even care so much about me!!" tears were in his eyes

Marinette flinched at his outburst. She had never seen Gurvinder like this before—his voice was raw, his hands clenched into fists against the counter. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something vulnerable, something that made her chest tighten.

"Why do you care so much about me, Marinette?" His voice cracked slightly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You've only known me for a month!"

The bakery felt unbearably silent, the only sound the distant chatter of customers and the hum of the ovens. Sabine had momentarily stepped away, leaving just the two of them standing there, emotions thick in the air.

Marinette opened her mouth, but no words came. Why do I care? Because she had seen his scars. Because she had seen the exhaustion in his eyes. Because she had watched him endure everything in silence, never asking for help, never complaining, as if he believed he didn't deserve kindness.

"Because..." she started, swallowing hard. "Because you don't deserve this, Gurvinder. You don't deserve to be treated like you're invisible. You don't deserve to suffer alone."

His jaw tightened, and he looked away. "I don't need your pity, Marinette."

"It's not pity!" she shot back, stepping closer. "It's—it's anger! It's frustration! It's—" She exhaled sharply, trying to find the words. "It's because I care!"

His eyes snapped to hers, searching, confused. For the first time, she saw something fragile in him, something unspoken.

Marinette took another step forward. "And if you think I'm just going to ignore everything I've seen—the bruises, the way you push yourself until you can barely stand, the way you flinch when someone raises their voice—then you don't know me at all."

Gurvinder let out a shaky breath, his shoulders trembling slightly. His defenses were breaking, but he was still holding on, still trying to stand tall.

"Why does it hurt you so much?" he whispered, voice barely audible.

Marinette's heart pounded. She didn't have an answer. Or maybe she did, but she wasn't ready to say it.

Instead, she just met his gaze, unwavering. "Because you're my friend. And I won't let my friend suffer alone."

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, just as quickly as the moment came, Gurvinder wiped at his eyes, forcing a chuckle. "Mari-con, you're too stubborn for your own good." His voice was lighter, but the sadness in his eyes hadn't completely faded.

"And you're too stupid for yours," she muttered, crossing her arms.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Touché."

She knew the conversation wasn't over. But for now, she had cracked through his walls—just a little. And she wasn't going to stop until she tore them down completely.

gurvinder walked away back to his room for a moment but then it happened, they heard a sudden sound of thud, gurvinder was lying unconscious on the stairs he had falled down the stairs.

Marinette barely had a moment to process their conversation before it happened.

A sharp thud echoed through the bakery.

Her heart leaped into her throat as she turned towards the stairs—only to see Gurvinder lying at the bottom, unmoving.

"Gurvinder!" she cried, rushing toward him, her feet barely touching the ground.

Sabine, who had just returned from the back, gasped, hurrying over as well. Tom, hearing the commotion, emerged from the kitchen, his face filled with worry.

Marinette dropped to her knees beside Gurvinder, shaking his shoulders. "Hey! Gurvi, wake up! Come on, open your eyes!"

His face was pale, his breathing shallow. His turban had loosened slightly from the fall, and his body looked completely drained, as if all the energy had finally left him.

Sabine pressed a hand to his forehead. "He's burning up!" she exclaimed. "Tom, help me carry him to the couch!"

Tom didn't hesitate. He carefully lifted Gurvinder into his arms, carrying him to the living room while Marinette and Sabine followed closely.

As Tom laid him down, Marinette kneeled beside him again, her hands trembling. She had noticed it all day—the way he trembled when he walked, how he dozed off while working, how his body had been weakening—but she never imagined he was this exhausted.

"Gurvinder, wake up," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please."

His eyelids fluttered, his head shifting slightly, but he didn't wake.

Sabine placed a cool damp cloth on his forehead. "He's completely worn out," she said softly, her eyes filled with concern. "He's been overworking himself for so long, and his body finally gave in."

Marinette clenched her fists. She knew it. She knew it. But she hadn't been able to stop him in time.

Tom sighed, rubbing his forehead. "We should've noticed earlier… We kept praising his work, but we didn't see what it was doing to him."

Marinette swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at her.

She reached out, hesitantly brushing a stray strand of hair from Gurvinder's forehead. His face was peaceful now, but it only made her chest tighten more.

"You idiot," she whispered. "Why do you keep pushing yourself this far?"

He didn't answer. But Marinette knew—this wasn't just about work. It was something deeper. Something he was hiding.

And she wasn't going to stop until she found out the truth.