Even receiving the email that Irene Cole is attending her fashion show isn't enough to lift Marinette's spirits.

She can't even face her friends. She's ashamed of what she had done to Chloé, and Alya and Nino clearly have their own problems, and Adrien . . . he won't even look at her.

That hurts worse than anything.

But he's still beautiful. She hates that. And she hate herself for desperately wanting him to look at her during their dinners at the Agreste Mansion, and she hates it even more when Lila catches her staring, because then she smirks in a way that says, 'See? I told you he was out of your league'.

And Chloe. She doesn't have to turn her body away from her in her seat like Adrien-although she does, they both do-because her waves of hostility crash into her, again and again, all dinner long.

There's a tinkly laugh behind her, as Marinette splashes cold water onto her face repeatedly, squeezing her eyes shut to hold the teardrops in.

"Maybe if you weren't such a little slut, you might still have friends."

Lila Rossi, the biggest cliché ever. The mean girl. Perfect skin, perfect hair. Icy smile, icy heart.

"What's your problem?" The bluenette asks, her palms curled into fists.

"You."

"Excellent. Thank you."

She tosses her hair. "Don't you want to know what Dave is saying about you?" Marinette doesn't answer, because she knows she'll tell her anyway. She does.

"Dave says you only slept with him to make Adrien jealous."

"WHAT?"

Lila laughs again and struts away. "He was so right to dump your sorry ass."

Marinette's shocked. Like she'd ever sleep with Dave! And he told everyone that he broke up with her? When did they even have a relationship? How dare he? Is this what everyone thinks of her? She wonders if it is what Adrien thinks of her. Does Adrien think she slept with Dave?

The rest of the week, Marinette flip-flops between total despair and simmering rage. She is busy every afternoon, working in the mansion with Gabriel through the large screen in his office, and every time she walks down the halls, Lila is there, for some reason or the other, with one of her girls. The bluenette overhears her name spoken in hushed, gossipy tones.

Shaking her head vigorously at the shopkeeper who was intent on selling her a gauze piece, Marinette pays for the materials at the cash register. Her fingers grip the wood tightly, until their tips turn white.

The bluenette pushes the door open, and steps out, the chilly air of the last days of winter hitting her squarely on the face. It's been warmer than usual lately.

Making her way down the street, she is lost in her thoughts again. She remembers about the ticket sitting in her drawer in her room, printed with the words she had been desperately trying to put off.

But she has to go back.

Marinette looks up to cross the road, startled to find the older Bunnix on the other side. Her mood drops. The all-knowing heroine was not a welcome sight right now. She hates being controlled, moreover, by something she had may or may not have done. And Bunnix listing off all her responsibilities to Paris would not help her departure tomorrow. Marinette wants to do something for herself for a change.

That's why, she doesn't stop to greet the "disguised" Bunnix in a overcoat and cap, swerving neatly, and walks on.

"I know you saw me." Bunnix speaks up, following the bluenette.

"I did."

"This is urgent, Marinette." The heroine's voice is strained, like it is everytime she tries to do things that may "harm" something or the other, Marinette thinks irritably.

"I'm sure it is."

"Marinette, running away from your problems doesn't solve them. I can understand how you're feeling right now-"

The bluenette whips around, her eyes glazing. "First of all, I don't know why people keep saying that. And you don't know how I'm feeling right now. Spying on people's private affairs don't make you a mind-reader."

Bunnix sighs. "Paris is in danger."

"That's some news," Marinette says drily, "But you don't come to me about that anymore. Go talk to Kagami, she's the new Ladybug from tomorrow."

"That's what I'm here to talk about. You can't give up your miraculous."

The sky starts tearing up, drops falling pitter-patter on the pavement. The light breeze brings on the faint smell of petrichor, along with a chilly damp feeling, that made the gooseflesh rise on Marinette's arms.

"Why? Because I'm always supposed to be a martyr? I'm sick of this, Bunnix. I want to make my own decisions, and I can do it, without a chaperone breathing down my neck telling me to do what's right for the city. Paris... Paris isn't even my home anymore."

"That's not what I-"

"Please."

Marinette murmured a polite goodbye over her shoulder, her figure fast disappearing down the street.

Bunnix was just about to follow her, when her phone rang. Muttering a string of curses, she picked it up.

"Babe, when are you coming home? Dinner's getting cold."

"Uh, sorry. I-I have a emergency work meeting for this huge presentation tomorrow. Don't wait up."

"Oh, okay. Bring me a few packets of marshmallows on your way home. Oliver's not letting me eat anything." The childish overtone in his voice made her smile. "Where are you going to stay?"

"I think I'll crash at Mylene's."

"Hmm. Stay safe, and take care of Kim junior, alright?"

"I thought we were naming him Napoleon Bonaparte?" she protested, and he laughed, hanging up the call.

*

"In our breaking news, tonight, a fire broke out in Agreste Mansion, scourging three-fourths of the building before it could be brought under control by the Fire Department. Police have reported this as a result of negligence in electrical wiring of Gabriel Agreste's office. Thankfully, no residents were harmed. We'd like to go to our journaliste, who's there with us at the scene. Bonsoir, Walter, could you describe the situation there?"

"Merci, Mademoiselle. A good part of the mansion, as you can see, has burned down, including the storage unit as well. There has been suspicions that dresses that were to be showcased in Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng's upcoming fashion gala were destroyed in the fire, although there were no official statements regarding this- Oh, oh, what an interesting turn of events! Marinette Dupain-Cheng, herself, is here at the house! Right now! The camera-"

Marinette couldn't breathe.

People were crowding around the ruins, screaming her name for a statement, a image. But the world was spinning round and round, and Adrien's firm grip on her shoulder was the only anchor.

Oh my god.

The fire had swallowed most of the building, except the main hall, and the adjacent wing of bedrooms. There was no way that any of her designs could survive, which was just across the main source.

And after jeopardizing her own career, ruining her mentor's reputation, spending money that was not even hers, losing all her friends, a month of emotions running wild, people would think that she was due for some good luck...

Life has been throwing curveballs at her ever since she had come back to Paris, and maybe she just needed to surrender.

Marinette is barely aware as she is half-carried to his car, her face is wiped clean of the residual tears and soot, her hair is pulled into a neat ponytail that lets her breathe better. The ringing in her ears has stopped a few seconds ago, and someone is asking her something. Her tired eyes scan the face in front of her. Oh. Adrien.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she says. "I'm gonna be fine."

He nods uncertainly. Quietly, he drives away from the stampeding reporters, and pulls up in a relatively empty street. He slumps into his driver's seat. Closes his eyes.

Marinette guiltily realizes that it has been a long day for him too, without her drama. Not only did his house burn down, but he also had to deal with the reporters, police, fire department, and he still had picked her up as soon as he could.

She clears her throat. "Thank you. For bringing me here."

No reply. Okay.

"Don't thank me," he says a minute later. "It's the normal thing to do."

She glances over again. "How is your dad?"

Adrien doesn't say anything for a moment, and she's afraid that she's crossed a line. But finally he speaks. "He's okay. Nathalie showed me pictures. Lost loads of weight, but he's okay."

"So, um. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but how's the treatment?" The words spill from her mouth before the she can stop them. "Is the radiation therapy making him tired? Is he eating enough? I read that if you don't put on lotion every night, you can get burns, and I was just wondering ..."

She trails off, seeing his expression. "I'm sorry. I'm being nosy, I'll shut-"

"No," he interrupts. "It's not that. It's just . . . you're the first person who's known any of that. How . . . how did ...?"

"Oh. Um. I was just worried, so I did some research. You know, so I'd . . . know," she finishes lamely.

Adrien looks up. Her own hope flashes at her, mirrored in his expression. But it disappears almost instantly. Which hurts.

Something twinges inside her. Marinette twists open the door. "I think I'm going to take a walk."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

She walks away, unaware of the woman following her through the crowd.

*

A/N- So, hi, guys! Thanks for your patience, everyone! To make up for how amazing you peeps are, I'm going to publish a new chapter of IYSIL every other day until it is completed. How's that sound? Was the chapter okay? As always, votes and comments are really appreciated, so, thank you for reading!