The city was quiet, veiled in midnight mist and dim amber lights flickering like secrets waiting to be told. Marinette had never pnned for the night to unfold the way it did. One drink turned into two, and two turned into a dizzy stumble through rooftop memories and banter that felt too heavy, too charged.

  Ladybug leaned against the cool brick of an old building, her breath hitching as Cat Noir stepped closer. His grin was cocky, but his eyes... his eyes were soft. Desperate.

  "One night, Bugaboo," he murmured, fingers brushing hers like it would burn. "Can we just... stop pretending?"

  She didn't know who leaned in first, but when their lips met, the world blurred. The city could've been burning and neither would've noticed. His hands were in her hair, hers tugging his suit down — and they crashed into each other like the universe owed them this moment after years of tension.

  She didn't stop it.

  She didn't want to.

  In a hotel room cloaked in shadow, Paris melted away. Their bodies spoke louder than words ever could — years of longing, of missed chances and gloved hands pulling away too soon. That night, they were just two aching souls finding soce in each other.

  When she woke the next morning, her limbs tangled in sheets and heat, the weight of the world returned like a fist to the gut.

  He was asleep beside her.

  His mask was off.

  And there, in the soft light pouring through the thin curtains... was Adrien Agreste.

  "No..." Marinette whispered, her voice broken as her world caved in. "No, no, no..."

  She stared at his peaceful face, all those years of shared patrols, shared ughter, shared everything crashing into her chest. Adrien had been under the mask. Adrien was Cat Noir.

  And she — Ladybug — had spent the night with her partner and her longest, deepest love without knowing.

  Or... maybe she'd always known. Somewhere deep down.

  She barely had time to pull her clothes on. Her heart was a wildfire. She pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle the sobs as she slipped out the door before he even stirred.

  By the time she reached her apartment, her transformation had faded, and so had the st shreds of illusion.

  Tikki fluttered beside her, worried.

  "Marinette... you're burning up."

  "I'm fine," she lied, even as she curled into her bed, clutching the pillow soaked in perfume and regret. Her ugh cracked like gss. "Isn't it funny? I loved Adrien. Cat Noir loved Ladybug. We were all four of us chasing each other... in circles."

  She didn't leave the apartment for days. Her fever worsened. Guilt was now stitched into her bones.

  Tikki stayed with her, gently stroking her hair, urging her to eat, drink... breathe.

  "I made a mistake, Tikki," Marinette mumbled once, fever-slick and trembling. "I shouldn't have let it happen. He doesn't even know. He doesn't know it was me."

  Four weeks ter, the pain in her chest wasn't just guilt anymore. It was nausea. Dizziness. Strange cravings and sudden tears.

  She took the test alone, hands shaking.

  Positive.

  The doctor confirmed it the next day.

  Marinette Dupain-Cheng — fashion student, designer, Paris' beloved Ladybug — was pregnant.

  She sat on her bed in silence, the windows drawn tight. She could still feel Adrien's fingers on her skin. Still hear his whisper against her throat. But now those memories were drenched in panic.

  "I can't stay," she whispered.

  Tikki looked heartbroken, but didn't argue.

  "You'll leave Paris?" she asked.

  Marinette nodded, tears streaking her cheeks. "I have to. If he finds out... if he ever knows... it'll ruin everything. Adrien doesn't love me. He loves Ladybug. And he doesn't know I was Ladybug that night."

  She looked down at the scan the doctor gave her.

  Tiny. Unformed. Bmeless.

  And yet connected to everything she couldn't expin.