Gurvinder adjusted his turban, his fingers briefly running over the fabric, making sure it was set properly. His sharp eyes studied Marinette as he leaned slightly against her desk.

"Tell me," he said, his voice calm but expectant.

Marinette took another deep breath, trying to steady her heartbeat. She had imagined this moment all day, but now that he was here, looking at her with his usual composed expression, the words felt heavier.

She stepped closer, almost hesitant, before finally speaking. "My parents… they're trying to get your legal guardianship."

For a second, there was no reaction. Gurvinder just blinked at her, as if his mind hadn't processed the words yet.

Then, his expression shifted—his brows furrowing, his jaw tightening slightly. His arms, which were crossed a moment ago, slowly fell to his sides.

"What?" His voice came out quieter than usual.

Marinette nodded, watching him closely. "They're talking to a lawyer. They want to help you stay here. Legally."

Silence.

Gurvinder's gaze dropped slightly, his hands clenching into fists before relaxing again. A shaky breath left his lips, and for the first time in a long time, he looked… lost.

"They want to—" He stopped, swallowing thickly before looking back at her. "Why?"

Marinette's chest ached at the question. She reached out, gently holding his wrist. "Because they care about you, Gurvi. Because I care about you."

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. He looked down at her hand on his wrist, then back at her, searching her eyes for any sign that this was some kind of dream or cruel joke.

It wasn't.

He let out a shaky breath, rubbing his face with his free hand. "Marinette… you don't know what you're getting into."

"I do," she said firmly. "And I don't care. You're not alone in this anymore."

Gurvinder sighed, his shoulders dropping as he carefully sat on the edge of her bed, as if the weight of the news had drained him. Marinette had expected him to be relieved, maybe even happy—but instead, he looked... scared.

His fingers fidgeted against the fabric of his jeans, his gaze downcast. His lips pressed into a thin line before he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Why are you wasting your time on me, Marinette?"

His eyes lifted to hers, and she felt her heart clench at the sight—tears, barely held back, threatening to spill. A storm of emotions swirled in his gaze—fear, doubt, and something much deeper, something broken.

Marinette took a hesitant step forward, then another, until she was right in front of him. She knelt down, so she was at his level, her hands gently resting on his knees.

"How could you even say that?" she whispered, her voice shaking.

Gurvinder let out a breathless chuckle, but there was no humor in it. He tilted his head back slightly, blinking away the tears before they could fall.

"Because it's true," he muttered. "I'm—I'm not worth all this, Marinette. Not your parents fighting for me, not you crying for me, not this..." His hands gestured vaguely in the air before they dropped back into his lap. "Not this life you're trying to give me."

Marinette's fingers curled slightly against his jeans, her grip tightening. "That's not your choice to make," she said firmly.

Gurvinder's gaze snapped to hers, startled by the intensity in her voice.

"You don't get to decide what you're worth to me. Or to my parents. Or to anyone who cares about you," she continued, her blue eyes burning with frustration and pain. "And we get to decide if we want to fight for you. If we want to love you."

Gurvinder inhaled sharply, his whole body going still.

Marinette realized what she had just said.

She had said love.

Her face heated up, but she didn't back down. She didn't take it back. Instead, she held his gaze, letting him see the raw honesty in her expression.

Gurvinder swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. He looked away, his hands gripping the edge of the bed so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"You don't understand, Marinette," he said hoarsely. "You don't know what it feels like to be treated like nothing your whole life. To be beaten down until you start believing it yourself."

Marinette reached up, cupping his face.

"I don't need to understand everything to know that you deserve better," she whispered. "And I'm not going to stop fighting for you just because you think you don't."

Gurvinder closed his eyes, a tear slipping down his cheek. He let out a shaky breath before leaning forward, resting his forehead against hers.

For the first time in years, he let himself believe—just a little—that maybe he wasn't alone anymore.

Marinette's patience finally snapped.

"Why are you so stubborn, Gurvinder?!" she yelled, standing up from her kneeling position in front of him. Her hands curled into fists at her sides as she glared at him. "Why won't you just let people in?! Are you blind? Can't you see that you're not alone anymore? That there are people—my parents, Adrien, Alya, me—who care about you? Who want to help you?"

Gurvinder clenched his jaw, his breath coming out ragged as he looked up at her. His fists were tight on his knees, his nails digging into his palms.

"And what if I lose everything, huh?!" he snapped back, his voice breaking slightly.

Marinette froze, startled by his outburst.

Gurvinder stood up suddenly, his hands trembling as he pushed them through his thick hair, loosening his turban slightly. His eyes burned with fear and frustration.

"What if I fight back, and I lose everything, Marinette?" he asked, his voice raw. "What if my uncle stops me from getting my permanent residency? What if the government finds out how I got here and deports me? What if all of this—"he gestured around him, at her room, at her home, at the life he had started to build here—"goes away just because I tried to fight for myself?"

Marinette's heart ached at the desperation in his voice.

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Maybe… maybe I should just keep going, you know? Just a few more years. Just fight a little longer. Maybe then, my uncle will finally give me the future he promised. Maybe then, I won't have to risk everything."

His voice cracked on the last word, and Marinette realized—he wasn't just scared.

He was exhausted.

He had been fighting alone for so long that the thought of doing anything else—of hoping for anything else—terrified him.

And then, his expression twisted in pain as he looked at her again. "And what hurts me even more…" he whispered, his voice barely holding together, "is watching you lose yourself because of me."

Marinette's eyes widened.

"You think I don't notice?" he asked. "You barely focus on your designs anymore. You don't care about school like you used to. You… you were so passionate about your future, Marinette, and now all you do is worry about me." He swallowed hard. "You're throwing yourself away for someone who doesn't even know if he has a future."

Marinette felt a lump in her throat, but she refused to back down.

She stepped closer to him, looking up at him with unwavering determination. "And you think I can just ignore you and live my life like nothing is wrong?" she asked, her voice trembling. "That I can just go back to sewing and studying while knowing that you're suffering every single day? That you're getting beaten up, starving, barely sleeping, all because of some fake hope that your uncle might keep his word?"

Gurvinder looked away, but Marinette grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her.

"You say I'm losing myself, but you never even had yourself, Gurvinder!" she shouted. "You've been living someone else's life, under someone else's control, for so long that you don't even think you deserve a real life of your own!"

Tears welled up in his eyes, but he stayed silent, his chest rising and falling unevenly.

Marinette's grip on his face softened, her fingers trembling. "I don't care if I fail a thousand projects," she whispered. "I don't care if I have to fight for you every day." Her voice cracked. "Because you're worth it. You're worth everything. And I don't care if you don't believe it yet—I'll believe it enough for both of us."

Gurvinder let out a shaky breath. His hands clenched at his sides before he slowly, hesitantly, reached for her wrists.

"I just…" he whispered, his voice almost breaking, "I don't want to lose you, Marinette."

Her breath caught.

"You won't," she promised. "You never will."

And as she held onto him, as he stood there trembling in front of her, Gurvinder wondered—was it really possible? Was there really a future where he didn't have to keep fighting alone?

Gurvinder let out a quiet, bitter chuckle, his fingers tightening around her wrists. His eyes, still glassy with unshed tears, held a weight that made Marinette's stomach sink.

"Then be ready to lose me forever if things go wrong."

Marinette froze. Her breath hitched as the words settled in her chest like ice.

Gurvinder let go of her, stepping back slightly. His face was unreadable now—too calm, too composed, like he was already preparing for the worst. Like he had accepted it.

"You don't get it, Mari," he said, his voice softer but no less heavy. "If I fight him, if I go against my uncle—if I lose—there won't be a second chance. No bakery, no school, no us. I'll be gone. I'll be dragged back to nothing, or worse, deported."

Marinette shook her head furiously, her hands balling into fists. "No—no, we won't lose. You won't lose! My parents are already talking to lawyers, we can—"

"But what if we do?" he interrupted, his voice quiet but firm. "What if we do, Marinette?"

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

He exhaled shakily, running a hand over his face. "I… I just need you to be ready for that. I need you to promise me that if everything falls apart, you won't throw yourself away for me."

His voice broke on the last word.

Marinette clenched her teeth, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to scream, to grab him and shake him and force him to see that she wasn't going to lose him, that she refused to.

But she saw it—the fear in his eyes, the quiet resignation.

Gurvinder truly believed that this could be the end for him.

And deep down, a terrifying part of her knew that he wasn't wrong.

So instead, she stepped forward, lifting her hand to his cheek. He flinched slightly but didn't pull away.

"I won't be ready to lose you," she whispered, her voice firm despite the tears in her eyes. "Because I won't let that happen."

Gurvinder swallowed hard, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something—but he didn't.

Because he wanted to believe her.

But he didn't know if he could afford to.

Gurvinder let out a shaky breath, his eyes still searching hers, as if looking for some kind of reassurance—something to hold onto. His hands trembled slightly as he clenched them into fists before speaking again.

"I will fight for you too, Marinette," he whispered. "Fight him for you."

Marinette's heart clenched at the weight of his words. He wasn't just talking about his uncle anymore. He was talking about everything. His past. His fears. His pain.

He was choosing to fight—not just to survive, but for her.

Slowly, hesitantly, he glanced away before murmuring, "Can I… Can I hug you?"

Marinette's expression softened. She sighed, stepping forward without hesitation. "Gurvi, you don't have to ask every time."

And with that, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in without waiting for him to make the first move.

Gurvinder stiffened for just a moment before melting into her touch, his arms hesitantly wrapping around her waist. His grip was tight, desperate—like he was afraid she'd slip away if he let go.

Marinette could feel his heartbeat against her own, fast and unsteady. She felt the way he buried his face against her shoulder, the way his fingers clutched the back of her hoodie as if grounding himself.

"I got you," she whispered, her fingers threading through his hair, resting at the nape of his neck. "I'll always have you."

For the first time in forever, Gurvinder allowed himself to believe it.

At first, it was just a shaky breath against her shoulder. Then another. Then a broken sob.

Gurvinder clung to Marinette as if he were drowning, and she was the only thing keeping him afloat. His body trembled, and before he could even stop himself, the dam inside him broke. Years of pain, of loneliness, of suffering in silence—everything he had buried deep inside came rushing out all at once.

Tears fell freely down his face, hot and relentless. His breaths were uneven, choked, as he gripped Marinette tighter, afraid that if he let go, she would disappear like everything else he had lost. He had spent so long pretending to be strong, convincing himself that he didn't need anyone, that love was something meant for others, not for someone like him.

But here, in this moment, he allowed himself to break.

Marinette didn't say anything. She didn't shush him, didn't tell him to stop crying. She just held him—firm, steady, unwavering. She ran her fingers through his hair, pressing her cheek against his head, letting him pour every ounce of his pain into her embrace.

"It's okay, Gurvi," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

And for the first time, he let himself believe it.

Yes, he was afraid. Yes, he was in love.

But he also knew—whether he won or lost, whether the world turned against him or not—he wanted to spend every moment he had left with her.

Marinette didn't hesitate. She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward her bed, not caring about anything else in the world at that moment. She just wanted him to feel safe, wanted him to know that he wasn't alone anymore.

Gurvinder let her guide him, still sniffling, his heart pounding in his chest. As they lay down, Marinette pulled the blanket over them, wrapping both of them in its warmth. She turned to face him, her hand resting gently on his cheek, wiping away the last traces of his tears.

They didn't speak. They didn't need to.

Gurvinder buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply, his arms tightening around her. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, steady and strong. For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn't feel alone.

Marinette held him just as tightly, running her fingers through his hair, her other hand intertwined with his. She didn't care what anyone thought anymore—not Alya, not the class, not even her own past fears.

This wasn't about her, and it wasn't about him.

It was about them.

They weren't just fighting for themselves anymore.

They were fighting for each other.

The next few days passed in a blur. The Dupain-Cheng household was busier than ever—Tom and Sabine were focused on the legal paperwork, determined to secure Gurvinder's future. Marinette kept a close eye on everything, making sure nothing slipped through the cracks.

But Gurvi… Gurvi was changing.

For the first time in years, he wasn't just waking up to fight, to survive, to endure. He was waking up to something more. He still had fears, still had doubts, but now there was hope.

He started focusing more on the bakery, pouring himself into work alongside Tom and Sabine, learning the trade with the same discipline he once gave to MMA. He paid attention in school—not just as a way to pass time, but because maybe he had a future here now. Maybe he wasn't just an illegal fighter living on borrowed time.

And then there was Marinette.

Whenever he saw her, a smile tugged at his lips—not a forced one, not a mask to hide his pain, but real and genuine. Not just for her, but for himself. Because for the first time, he wanted to be here. He wanted to believe.