The next day, Adrien found Marinette during lunch break, pulling her aside with a determined look.

"I have something to tell you," he started.

Marinette raised an eyebrow, curious but slightly worried at how serious he looked. "What is it?"

Adrien took a breath. "I talked to my father. I convinced him to give you a spot in his upcoming fashion competition."

Marinette's eyes widened in shock. "Wait… Gabriel Agreste's competition? Your father's competition?"

Adrien nodded. "Yeah. It wasn't easy. I had to really push for it. He didn't want to agree at first, but I managed to get you a chance. He said if you can prove yourself, you'll move forward. But if you fail…" Adrien hesitated, then sighed. "He said he won't even let you near his building ever again."

Marinette stared at him, processing everything. Her mind was spinning.

This was huge. A chance to compete in one of the most prestigious fashion events in Paris. If she won, it could change everything for her career.

But if she lost…

The weight of it settled in her chest. Gabriel Agreste was no ordinary judge. This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance, but it also felt like standing at the edge of a cliff.

Adrien watched her reaction carefully. "I know it's a lot. And I know my father is… difficult. But I believe in you, Marinette. You can do this."

Marinette swallowed, still overwhelmed. But as she met Adrien's gaze, she saw the genuine belief in his eyes. He was giving her an opportunity she never thought she'd get.

Slowly, her lips curled into a small, determined smile.

"I'll do it."

At home, Gurvi sat on the chair backward, resting his chin on the backrest as he listened to Marinette excitedly explain everything about the competition.

"So… Adrien talked to his father, Gabriel Agreste, and somehow convinced him to let me compete," Marinette said, pacing the room. "It's a massive opportunity, Gurvi! But also… terrifying."

Gurvi tilted his head slightly, watching her with a small smirk. "Terrifying? You? Marinette, you sketch designs in the middle of class while the teacher is literally yelling at us. I think you've got this."

Marinette huffed, crossing her arms. "It's not the same! This is Gabriel Agreste! His standards are insane! And if I fail—" She hesitated, looking down. "He'll never let me step near his brand again."

Gurvi leaned forward on the chair, resting his arms on the backrest. "Then don't fail."

Marinette shot him a deadpan look. "Wow. Great advice. So helpful."

Gurvi chuckled. "Look, you've already got the talent. You've been making dresses, bags, and clothes for years. Heck, even I know you're good, and I barely know anything about fashion except how to wear a suit without looking like a waiter."

Marinette giggled despite herself. "You do look good in a suit."

Gurvi smirked. "I know." Then, he softened. "Mari… you deserve this. And I'll be right there if you need me."

She looked at him, really looked at him, and felt something settle in her heart.

She wasn't alone in this.

Taking a deep breath, Marinette nodded. "Okay… I'll do it."

Gurvi grinned. "That's the spirit. Now, do I get to model some of these fancy clothes, or do I just sit here and look pretty?"

Marinette rolled her eyes. "You wish."

Marinette still had fear in her heart. The weight of expectations, the possibility of failure—it all loomed over her like a storm cloud. She paced the room, muttering worries under her breath, overthinking every little thing that could go wrong.

Gurvi watched her, leaning forward on his chair, his arms still resting on the backrest. He had seen this look before—this wasn't just nerves, this was fear trying to paralyze her.

"Marinette," he said firmly, making her stop. "Sit down."

She hesitated but obeyed, sitting across from him, her fingers twisting in her lap. He studied her for a moment before speaking.

"You're looking at this like it's an impossible battle," he said, his voice calm but certain. "Like you're already losing before even stepping in. That's the first mistake."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

He exhaled, leaning back slightly. "When I fight, I don't just throw punches and hope for the best. I study my opponent. I figure out their weaknesses, their strengths, their rhythm. I don't go in thinking I'll lose. I go in knowing how to win."

Marinette blinked. She never really thought about it that way.

"This fashion competition? It's not just about talent. It's about knowing what they're looking for, what will catch their attention, what will make you stand out," Gurvi continued. "You don't need to be perfect, Mari. You just need to be smarter than the competition."

Marinette stared at him. She always knew he was strong. She had seen him endure pain most people wouldn't survive. She had seen his wit, his humor, his stubborn resilience. But this? This was a side of him she hadn't fully realized before. He wasn't just strong—he was strategic. He wasn't just someone who took punches; he was someone who calculated, planned, and turned battles in his favor.

And right now, he was helping her do the same.

A deep breath filled her lungs, the weight in her chest lightening just a little. She met his gaze and nodded.

"Okay," she said, steadier now. "Then let's figure out how to win this."

A slow smirk spread across Gurvi's lips. "Now that's the Marinette I know."

Marinette pulled out her laptop, her fingers moving swiftly as she opened the application site for the competition. The past winners' designs filled the screen, showcasing a variety of styles—some intricate and extravagant, others deceptively simple yet striking. She studied them carefully, her brows furrowing in deep thought.

Gurvi leaned over, his sharp eyes scanning the designs alongside her. "Look at them," he said, his voice steady, analyzing. "What do you think made them win?"

Marinette tilted her head, examining the designs closely. "Maybe the precision? The creativity? The uniqueness?"

Gurvi nodded but then pointed at one of the simpler designs that had won a few years ago. "It's not just about perfect stitches or complex patterns," he mused. "This one isn't complicated at all, but it's clean. It speaks something. It's memorable."

She narrowed her eyes, suddenly seeing what he meant. The design wasn't overly extravagant, yet it had a presence that made it impossible to ignore. It wasn't about being the most complex—it was about standing out.

"You don't need to make the most difficult design, Mari," Gurvi continued. "You just need to make something that makes people feel something the moment they look at it. Simple but perfect."

Marinette nodded, her mind racing. This wasn't just about designing—this was about understanding why something worked. She kept scrolling, looking at more past winners, trying to see the patterns, the elements that made them shine.

She wasn't just researching now. She was strategizing. And with Gurvi's sharp mind beside her, she felt more confident than ever.

Later that night, Marinette sat at her desk, her sketchbook open, pencil moving swiftly across the page. Her mind raced with ideas, inspired by everything she had researched earlier. She flipped through fabric samples, holding them up against the dim glow of her lamp, trying to visualize what would work best.

Gurvi stood beside her, arms crossed, watching in quiet admiration. He wasn't a designer, but he knew discipline, patience, and strategy—and he could see the fire in her eyes as she worked. Whenever she hesitated, he was there, passing her a fabric, flipping through the pages of her old designs, offering small, encouraging comments.

At one point, she sighed in frustration, rubbing her forehead. "I don't know if this is good enough…"

Gurvi reached over, gently tapping the page with his finger. "You think fighters don't doubt themselves before stepping into a ring?" he said. "It's normal to question yourself. But the real battle is pushing past that."

Marinette exhaled deeply, nodding. "You're right."

She returned to her sketches, and Gurvi, without a word, started helping in any way he could—cutting fabric pieces she needed, holding up different shades against each other for comparison, even cleaning up the mess she was making as she worked.

The two of them, side by side, completely in sync. It wasn't just her battle anymore. He was fighting it with her.

The next day, as Gurvi and Marinette stepped into the classroom, their fingers intertwined, the entire room seemed to pause. Conversations halted, eyes widened, and a wave of different emotions rippled through their classmates.

Some of the girls blushed, whispering excitedly among themselves. The guys exchanged looks, some amused, some genuinely surprised. Alya let out a soft sigh, a mix of relief and regret flashing in her eyes. Even Adrien, who had already sensed this coming, smiled to himself, happy for them.

But Nathaniel… he wasn't shocked. He wasn't curious. He wasn't amused.

He was disgusted.

His grip on his pencil tightened as he stared at their hands, at the way Marinette smiled at Gurvinder so effortlessly. It made his blood boil. All this time, he had watched her from a distance, waited, hoping she'd look at him the way she was looking at him. But no. It wasn't Nathaniel. It was him.

That boy, who showed up out of nowhere, playing the victim, acting all soft and tragic, stealing the attention, stealing her.

Nathaniel clenched his jaw, lowering his head as he pretended to focus on his sketchbook. But his fingers shook with frustration as the pencil pressed harder into the paper, darkening the lines of his newest sketch—one that looked nothing like his usual art.

It was jagged. Uncontrolled. Angry.

Nathaniel's mind was a storm of emotions—hatred, confusion, jealousy, and something deeper, something he wasn't ready to admit.

Did he really want to ruin Marinette?

He had convinced himself that Gurvi was the problem, that if he could just get him out of the way, everything would go back to how it was before. Marinette would smile at him, laugh with him, see him the way she saw Gurvi. But then…

Whenever he saw them together, truly happy, something inside him twisted painfully.

It wasn't just jealousy—it was pain.

He had loved Marinette for so long, or at least, he thought he did. He had admired her, wanted to be the one she turned to, but now, watching her glow with happiness beside someone else, he realized… it was never his place. She was never his.

And maybe that's what hurt the most.

His fingers twitched as he stared at his sketchbook, the angry strokes of his pencil carving into the paper.

Did he really want to ruin her?

He didn't know anymore.

Chloe sat beside Nathaniel, crossing her arms as she scoffed, her eyes fixed on Marinette and Gurvinder, who were still holding hands.

"Ugh, can you believe this?" she muttered, leaning in toward him. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng, all lovey-dovey with him?" She rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with disdain. "It's disgusting."

Nathaniel didn't respond immediately, his grip tightening around his pencil as he continued sketching absentmindedly.

Chloe smirked. "I don't get it, honestly. She could have had anyone, someone better, but instead, she goes for that?" She flicked her hair back. "I know you don't like this either, Nathaniel. You've had your eyes on her for, what, years now?"

His jaw clenched.

She tapped his sketchbook with her manicured nail. "You really gonna just sit there and let her be stolen from you?"

Nathaniel's grip on his pencil almost snapped. He hated the way Chloe was putting it—like Marinette was some kind of prize to be won. That wasn't what this was about… was it?

Chloe smirked again, seeing the conflict in his face. "We could do something about it, you know. About him." She leaned in closer, her voice lowering to a whisper. "If we work together, we could make sure he's out of the picture for good."

Nathaniel's stomach twisted. He knew Chloe wasn't just talking about breaking them up—she wanted to destroy Gurvinder. And maybe, a few days ago, he would have considered it. But now…

Now, he wasn't so sure.

Nathaniel's fingers twitched as he recalled that night—the night he stood in front of Chloe's mansion, ringing the bell with anger clouding his judgment. He had said it himself.

"I don't want to ruin him… I want to ruin Marinette."

The words echoed in his mind, and for the first time, he wondered—was that really what he wanted? Or was it just his emotions, his heartbreak, lashing out in the worst way possible?

Back then, he had been overwhelmed, watching her drift further away from him, completely smitten with someone else. It burned. It hurt. But now, sitting in class, seeing her smile—seeing her genuinely happy—he felt something else.

Guilt.

Did he really want to destroy her? Or had he just wanted to make her feel the way he felt—lost, betrayed, and left behind?

He glanced at Chloe beside him, her expectant smirk waiting for his response. His grip on his pencil tightened. Was he really going to let his emotions make a choice he couldn't take back?

i dont wanna do this chloe im sorry, he said

Chloe raised an eyebrow, tilting her head in disbelief. "Excuse me? What did you just say?"

Nathaniel swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around his pencil. "I said… I don't want to do this. I'm sorry, Chloe."

Chloe scoffed, flipping her hair. "Oh, come on, Nathaniel! After all that talk about how she ruined everything for you, how she threw you away for him—you're seriously backing out now?"

Nathaniel looked down at his sketchbook, his latest drawing smudged under his restless hands. "I was angry," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "I am angry. But this? Ruining her life? That's not me. I can't do it."

Chloe leaned in closer, voice dripping with frustration. "You think she's going to care about you if you just sit back and do nothing? She's in love with him, Nathaniel! And you? You're just some guy she used to know."

Her words stung, but he didn't react the way she expected. Instead, he let out a shaky breath and leaned back in his chair. "Maybe that's true," he said. "But I won't be the guy who tears her down just because I couldn't have her."

For the first time in a long while, Nathaniel felt like himself.

Chloe crossed her arms as she and Nathaniel watched Adrien approach Marinette.

"So, how's the competition going?" Adrien asked with a warm smile.

Marinette beamed, a newfound confidence in her eyes. "It's going great! I've been working on the designs non-stop, and Gurvi's been helping me strategize."

Adrien chuckled. "Of course he has. That guy could turn anything into a battle plan."

Marinette laughed, nodding. "Exactly! He made me look at it like a fight—how to outmaneuver the competition, how to focus on what truly matters instead of just overcomplicating things. It's actually helped me a lot!"

Adrien looked impressed. "That's amazing, Marinette. I knew you had it in you. My father might not know it yet, but you're going to prove him wrong."

Behind them, Nathaniel clenched his jaw. Hearing Marinette talk about Gurvinder so fondly, how he was the one helping her, how he was the one by her side—it made his stomach twist.

Chloe, watching his reaction, smirked. "Still think you don't wanna do anything?" she whispered.

Nathaniel didn't answer.

Nathaniel's eyes widened slightly as Chloe leaned in closer, her voice dripping with malice.

"I'm going to steal her dress before the show," she whispered. "And when it's ruined, we'll make sure everyone thinks Gurvinder did it."

Nathaniel tensed. "That's—"

"What?" Chloe smirked. "Too evil for you?" She rolled her eyes. "Please, you literally came to me saying you wanted to ruin her."

Nathaniel clenched his fists. I was angry… I wasn't thinking straight.

Chloe noticed his hesitation and scoffed. "Come on, Nath. Think about it. Marinette has never looked at you the way she looks at him. But if Gurvinder suddenly becomes the villain, if she loses faith in him, who do you think she'll turn to?"

Nathaniel's jaw tightened. He hated how much sense it made. How much it tempted him.

But… could he really go that far?

Nathaniel's breath hitched as Chloe leaned in closer, her words wrapping around his mind like a snake.

"You do realize Marinette knows you have feelings for her, right?" she said, tilting her head with a smirk. "Adrien? He's her dream. But let's be real—dreams don't come true. And Gurvinder? He's just a temporary phase. Once he's out of the picture, who else do you think she'll turn to?"

Nathaniel swallowed hard. "That's not—"

"Not true?" Chloe cut him off with a scoff. "Please, Nath. She's comfortable with you. She trusts you. And when Gurvinder disappoints her—because he will—who do you think will be there to pick up the pieces?"

Nathaniel felt his heart pound in his chest. He had always wanted Marinette to notice him, to see him the way he saw her. But was this really the way to do it? Was this what he wanted?

Chloe placed a hand on his shoulder, her voice softer now. "You don't have to do anything. Just… let it happen. Let me handle everything. And when the dust settles, Marinette will finally be yours."

Nathaniel looked at her, conflicted. His heart was at war with itself.

Did he really want to stand by and let her destroy Marinette's happiness?

Or… was he desperate enough to let it happen?

Nathaniel exhaled sharply, closing his eyes as if trying to block out the war raging in his mind. His fists clenched at his sides. Marinette's smile, her laughter with Gurvinder, the way she looked at him with such admiration—it all flashed before him.

Chloe's words slithered back into his thoughts. "Once he's out of the picture, who else do you think she'll turn to?"

His jaw tightened. Was it true? Would she finally see him if Gurvinder wasn't in the way? Would she finally choose him?

Slowly, he opened his eyes and turned to Chloe. His voice was quiet, but firm.

"What can I do to help you?"

A wicked grin spread across Chloe's lips as she leaned in closer. "Now that's the right question."