Sabine walked around the counter, her heart aching as she looked at Gurvi. She had seen the way his expression shifted—the warmth in his eyes dimming, the way his jaw clenched just slightly. He wasn't angry, but she knew this feeling.

The quiet hurt of being pushed away.

She gently placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Gurvi… don't let this get to you."

He let out a small breath, forcing a smirk. "Get to me? Please, Madame, I've been through worse." He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. "If I let every little thing bother me, I wouldn't have survived this long."

Sabine wasn't fooled. His voice was light, but his fingers tightened slightly on his arm. She had watched this boy for months now, seen his walls go up and down. And right now, he was building them again.

"You don't have to pretend with us," she said softly. "Not here."

Gurvi glanced at her, then at Marinette, who was watching quietly from behind the register. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I just don't get it," he admitted. "Yesterday, everything was fine. Today, it's like I'm—" He exhaled sharply. "Like I'm contagious."

Sabine's grip on his shoulder tightened slightly. "People are easily swayed, Gurvi. It doesn't mean they're right."

Gurvi gave a small laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Maybe not. But they're convinced." He glanced toward the door where the mother and child had left. "And that's enough, isn't it?"

Sabine wished she had an answer that would make this better. Instead, she did the only thing she could—she gently pulled him into a hug.

At first, he tensed, caught off guard. But then, slowly, he relaxed. His shoulders eased, just slightly.

"You're not alone in this," she murmured. "You have us. You always will."

Gurvi didn't say anything. But after a moment, he nodded.

Marinette watched as her mother held Gurvi, the warmth of the moment spreading through her chest. It was rare to see him accept comfort—he always tried to act like nothing could touch him, like he was untouchable. But here, in the bakery, in their home, he let his guard down, even if just a little.

She clenched her fists, feeling a mix of emotions. She was glad he had her parents, that they saw what she saw in him. But at the same time, anger simmered beneath her skin. Why did he have to go through this again? Why, after everything, were people turning on him so easily?

Gurvi pulled away from Sabine after a moment, shaking his head as if trying to brush off the emotions. "I should get back to work," he muttered.

But Marinette stepped forward before he could go. She gently took his wrist, stopping him. When he looked at her, she saw it—just for a second. The exhaustion. The frustration.

"Gurvi…" She hesitated, then squeezed his wrist lightly. "We'll figure this out, okay? No matter what's happening, we're with you."

He studied her for a moment, his usual smirk nowhere in sight. Then, finally, he sighed, rolling his eyes playfully. "You sound so dramatic, Princess. I'm not dying."

Marinette narrowed her eyes. "Gurvinder."

He blinked at her, surprised by the seriousness in her tone.

She didn't say anything else. She didn't have to.

After a beat, he let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. "Fine, fine," he muttered. "I get it."

But she didn't miss it—the way his shoulders relaxed just a little. The way the corners of his lips twitched as if he wanted to smile but was too tired to.

And Marinette swore to herself—she wouldn't let this go. She would find out who was behind this.

Tom let out a deep sigh, rubbing his forehead as he stared at the bakery's empty tables. "This has never happened before, Marinette," he said, his voice laced with concern. "We've had slow days, sure, but this… this feels different."

Marinette sat beside him, her hands gripping her own arms as she stared at the dimly lit bakery. "It's not just a coincidence, Papa. Something's happening, and it's aimed at Gurvi."

Tom nodded solemnly. "I don't understand it. Just a few days ago, customers loved him. He treats them like family. Now, some of our regulars won't even look him in the eye."

Marinette bit her lip. "And if this continues, the bakery…?"

Tom's silence was answer enough. The bakery was their home, their livelihood. If people kept avoiding it, they'd struggle.

Her heart clenched at the thought. This wasn't fair. Gurvi had done nothing wrong. He had worked so hard, fought so much to build something stable in his life. And now, it was crumbling before their eyes.

Tom looked at her, his gaze serious yet gentle. "I know you care about him, sweetheart. And I do too. But we need to figure out what's happening before this gets worse."

Marinette clenched her fists. "I will, Papa. I won't let them take anything from him."

Just then, the door creaked open as Gurvi walked in, locking up for the night. He stretched his arms, yawning. "What's with the serious faces? You both look like you're planning a heist."

Marinette quickly forced a smile, not wanting to add to his burdens. "Just… late-night business talk."

Gurvi arched a brow. "Uh-huh. Well, whatever it is, make sure it involves giving me a raise."

Tom let out a chuckle, but Marinette noticed how forced it was. Gurvi, however, seemed too exhausted to push further.

As he walked past them and headed upstairs, Marinette exchanged a look with her father.

They needed to fix this. Fast.

Tom looked up, surprised to see Gurvinder standing before him, his usual playful smirk replaced with a serious expression. Marinette straightened, sensing the weight in his stance.

"I… shouldn't have joked about the raise," Gurvi said, his voice lower than usual. He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "And about the business. I see it, Tom. The way the bakery has changed these past two days. The way customers hesitate when they see me."

Tom's face softened, but before he could respond, Gurvi continued.

"I know I'm the reason," he admitted, his jaw tightening. "And I'm sorry."

Tom stood up, placing a firm hand on Gurvi's shoulder. "Gurvi, listen to me. This isn't your fault."

"But it is, isn't it?" Gurvi looked away, his usual sharp confidence dimmed. "Everything was fine before. Now, people are treating me like I don't belong here."

Marinette swallowed the lump in her throat, standing up beside him. "That doesn't mean you should blame yourself," she said, her voice firm. "Someone is doing this to you, to us. We just don't know who yet."

Tom nodded. "And no matter what, this is your home too. You're not alone in this, son."

The word "son" made Gurvi pause. He glanced at Tom, something flickering in his eyes. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something, but instead, he just gave a small nod.

Marinette reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "We'll figure it out together, okay?"

Gurvi sighed but didn't pull away. "Alright. But until we do… if things get worse, I'll—"

"No." Tom cut him off immediately. "We're in this together. No 'ifs' about it."

Gurvi stared at him, then at Marinette, before finally nodding again. "Okay."

But deep down, he wasn't sure he believed it.

As they entered their room, Marinette watched Gurvi silently take off his jacket and sit on the bed, staring at the floor. The weight of the day still clung to him, and she could see the tension in his shoulders.

Wanting to break the heaviness, she plopped down beside him and nudged him with her elbow. "You know, I was thinking… maybe we should put up a 'No Weird Customers Allowed' sign at the bakery. Just to keep things balanced."

Gurvi blinked at her, his brows furrowing slightly. "Balanced?"

Marinette grinned. "Yeah. I mean, we can't have only the nice customers. We need a quota of weird ones too, or else life gets too boring."

For a second, he just stared at her, and she wondered if she completely failed at her attempt. But then, finally, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"You're saying I should start charging extra for attitude?" he asked.

Marinette gasped dramatically. "Exactly! Oh my gosh, imagine—'Bakery Special: Free Bread with a Side of Gurvinder's Death Stare!'"

Gurvi chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "You're an idiot."

"And yet, here you are, stuck with me," she said, nudging him again. "Sorry, no refunds."

He let out a long sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. "Tough luck for me."

Marinette smiled, pleased that she got him to relax, even if just a little. She leaned back against the headboard, watching him as he ran a hand through his hair, the tiredness still evident in his eyes.

"Hey," she said softly. "We'll figure this out, okay? No matter what happens, you're not alone in this."

He met her gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a small nod, he leaned back beside her.

"Yeah," he murmured. "I know."

And for tonight, that was enough.

Marinette's smile faded slightly as she looked at him more closely. Even though he had laughed, even though he had played along with her jokes, there was still something in his eyes—a weight that hadn't lifted.

She shifted, turning to face him fully. "Gurvi… you're still thinking about it, aren't you?"

He exhaled, leaning his head back against the wall. "It's hard not to." His voice was quieter now, almost resigned. "People… they've always looked at me a certain way. But today, it felt different. Like I was… dirty. Like I didn't belong."

Marinette's chest tightened. She wanted to argue, to tell him that wasn't true—but she knew Gurvi. He wasn't the type to overthink things without reason. He had seen it, felt it. And that made her anger rise.

"That's not fair," she muttered, her fists clenching. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Gurvi gave her a small, tired smirk. "Since when has life ever been fair?"

Marinette bit her lip. She hated that answer. Hated that he had been forced to accept it as reality.

Without thinking, she reached out, placing her hand over his. He glanced at her, his gaze softening. His fingers curled slightly around hers, holding on just enough to let her know he heard her.

Neither of them spoke after that. The silence between them was enough.

"you know what mari, many times i wished that i shouldn't have been born or like i wish i would have died instead of my parents, they would have made another baby to fill there lives... you could have been with your... dream guy adrien he chuckled bakery would have been thriving without me, its just every time i see you and your parents go through things... for me i feel like i just wished i wouldn't have been here" said gurvi.

Marinette's breath hitched as she stared at him, her fingers tightening around his. "Gurvi… don't say that."

He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Why not? It's true. My parents would have been fine without me. They could've had another kid, a better one. You… you wouldn't be stuck dealing with all of this. You'd be with Adrien, your dream guy. The bakery wouldn't be losing customers. Everything would be better."

Marinette felt her heart clench painfully. "Stop," she whispered, shaking her head. "You don't get to say that. You don't get to decide that the world would be better without you."

He sighed, looking away. "I'm just being honest, Mari."

"Well, then let me be honest too," she snapped, her eyes burning. "If you weren't here, I wouldn't be the same person. Do you get that? Do you understand how much you mean to me? To my parents? You think they take care of you because they pity you? No, Gurvi. They love you. I love you."

His eyes flickered with something—shock, hesitation, pain. "Mari…"

She moved closer, gripping his hands tighter. "And Adrien? You think I'd be with him?" She let out a shaky breath. "If I had to choose between some perfect dream life without you or this mess with you in it… I'd choose this. Every single time."

Gurvi stared at her, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. He looked like he wanted to argue, like he didn't fully believe her. But for once, he didn't say anything.

So Marinette did the only thing she could. She pulled him into a tight embrace, her arms wrapping around him as if she could physically hold him together. And for the first time that night, he let himself hold onto her too.

Marinette took a deep breath, her fingers tightening slightly against his. "You know… you're not the only one with doubts, Gurvi."

He frowned, looking at her with tired eyes. "What do you mean?"

She hesitated for a moment, then lowered her gaze. "After that fight… when you went against those twelve men for me… I—I started thinking." Her voice wavered slightly. "Would I ever be able to do the same for you?"

Gurvi blinked, caught off guard. "Mari—"

"I don't know," she admitted, frustration and guilt mixing in her tone. "I want to believe that I'd do anything for you. That if it came down to it, I'd put myself on the line just like you did for me. But what if… what if I freeze? What if I choose my dreams over you?" She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "What if I'm not as strong as you?"

Gurvi exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "Mari… you don't have to—"

"But I do," she cut in. "Because it terrifies me, Gurvi. I don't want to be the kind of person who stands back while you throw yourself into danger again and again." Her hands trembled slightly. "I love fashion, Gurvi. It's my dream. But you… you've become just as important to me. And the thought that one day, I might have to choose—" She bit her lip, shutting her eyes briefly before looking at him again. "I hate that I even have this doubt."

He stared at her for a long moment, then let out a small, tired chuckle. "You're an idiot."

She blinked. "What?"

He smirked slightly, though his eyes were still clouded. "Mari, you're already putting yourself on the line for me. You brought me into your home, into your family. You've defended me when no one else would. And don't forget, you literally went against Ladybug's rules just to keep me safe."

Marinette's breath caught.

"That's not nothing, Mari," Gurvi continued, his voice softer now. "You're already proving that I matter to you. So don't beat yourself up over something that hasn't even happened yet."

She searched his face, trying to let his words sink in. But the fear still lingered, deep in her chest.

Still, she nodded, resting her forehead against his shoulder. "I just… I don't want to lose you."

"You won't." His voice was steady, certain.

But deep down, both of them knew—life had a way of testing promises like that.

Gurvi let out a slow breath before pushing himself up from the bed. His expression had shifted—there was still a hint of sadness, but now it was overshadowed by something else. Determination.

He ran a hand through his hair, glancing toward the window as if gathering his thoughts. Then, he turned back to Marinette, his voice firm.

"I'll fix this," he said.

Marinette frowned, sitting up slightly. "Gurvi… you don't have to do this alone."

He gave her a small smirk, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I know. But this is my mess, Mari. My presence is the reason your family's struggling. I can't just sit around and let it keep happening."

Marinette grabbed his wrist, forcing him to look at her. "You are not a mess, Gurvi. And you're not a burden. My parents love you. I—" She stopped herself, her grip tightening. "Just don't do something reckless."

He softened at that, placing his other hand over hers. "I won't."

But deep down, Marinette wasn't sure if she believed him.