Monday at School - Marinette's POV

The school courtyard was alive with Monday morning energy—students shouting across the lawn, sneakers thumping against stone paths, and seagulls crying dramatically overhead like they'd lost all hope. Marinette adjusted her bag on her shoulder and followed Alya through the crowd, yawning into her sleeve.

"I still can't believe you stayed up past two just to make strawberry mille-feuilles," Alya said, sipping her orange juice like it was the most normal thing in the world. "You're literally running on sugar and stubbornness."

Marinette rubbed her eyes. "They were for a custom order! Madame Legrand's anniversary or something. Plus, the cream didn't set right the first time, and you know how I get—"

"—perfectionist mode, activated," Alya finished for her, grinning. "Honestly, girl, you need a nap. Or ten."

Marinette smiled sheepishly. "I will. After finals. And world peace. Maybe."

Before Alya could reply, a familiar voice interrupted them from behind.

"Ladies!"

Nino's voice carried across the courtyard like a DJ introducing the next big track. He skidded to a stop in front of them, arms flailing dramatically as he adjusted his snapback.

"You are hereby invited to the most insane, most fabulous, most ridiculously over-the-top birthday bash of the year!"

Alya blinked. "Is this your way of announcing your own birthday three months early?"

"Nope." Nino gave a flourish, bowing slightly. "This, my friends, is the official teaser trailer for Chloé Bourgeois: The Golden Gala."

Marinette raised an eyebrow. "Wait, Chloé is throwing a party?"

"Correction—an event," Nino said, straightening his jacket. "An eighteenth birthday extravaganza at the Crystal Lounge. Saturday night. DJed by yours truly."

Alya laughed. "Hold up. You're DJing Chloe's party? Didn't she once say your mixes sounded like a washing machine fighting for its life?"

"She did," Nino said proudly. "Then she heard my new set at Jagged Stone's pop-up and changed her mind real fast. Called me 'acceptable.' In Chloé-speak, that's like getting knighted."

"She must be desperate," Marinette muttered under her breath, earning a snort from Alya.

"But seriously," Nino said, pulling out his phone. "Look at this invite."

He showed them a gold-embossed digital card with flashing sparkles and dramatic orchestral music playing in the background.

Alya squinted. "Did she put her own face in the fireworks?"

"Yep," Nino said. "And there's a countdown clock. She's even got catering from that rooftop sushi place no one can afford."

Just then, Adrien wandered up, adjusting the strap on his bag and offering the group his usual warm smile.

"Hey," he greeted. "Did I hear something about fireworks and sushi?"

"Nino's DJing Chloe's birthday," Alya explained. "Apparently it's going to be the party of the century."

Adrien tilted his head. "Chloe's actually inviting people this time?"

"She's inviting everyone," Nino said. "She wants the school talking about it until graduation. And hey—if she's handing out sushi and free glow sticks, who am I to say no?"

Marinette shifted uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of Adrien standing beside her. His cologne smelled like citrus and something expensive. She prayed she didn't look like she hadn't slept in two days.

Adrien glanced at her. "You going, Marinette?"

She blinked. "Uh—me?"

"No, the other Marinette behind you," Alya joked.

Marinette's cheeks burned. "I—I don't know. I mean, it's Chloe."

"But it's also your last year of lycée," Alya reminded her. "You've gotta go! We'll dance, we'll snack, we'll make fun of the people who wear too much perfume."

"And it'll be great practice for prom," Nino added. "Come on, Mari. Say yes."

"I guess it could be fun..." she trailed off, eyes flicking nervously to Adrien.

He offered a small, encouraging smile. "I'll be there. Maybe we'll finally get to dance."

Alya's eyebrows shot up so fast they nearly flew off her face.

Marinette laughed awkwardly. "Wh-what? Dance? Me? Haha, no, I'm terrible. I once stepped on a ficus trying to do the cha-cha."

"I remember that," Alya said. "You also apologized to the ficus."

"It looked offended!"

Adrien chuckled. "Well, if you change your mind, I'll be the guy near the back pretending to know how to waltz."

Nino draped an arm over Adrien's shoulder. "He's lying. This dude actually has rhythm. His fencing footwork translates weirdly well to pop music."

"I do not have rhythm," Adrien said, but he was smiling.

Marinette bit her lip, heart fluttering. Adrien dancing. With her. At a party. Was that... a dream she had once? No, it was definitely fifteen dreams she'd had, in varying outfits.

Alya leaned closer to her and whispered, "Girl. Red heels. This is the moment."

"I don't have a dress," Marinette whispered back.

"You literally make dresses for fun."

"Okay, but I don't have—"

"Confidence? Honey, I've seen you stand up for others and run a bakery on zero sleep. You got this."

Marinette exhaled. "Fine. I'll go. But if I fall down the stairs or spill soy sauce on Adrien, I'm blaming all of you."

"Fair," Nino said. "But you're gonna have a blast. I've got a whole playlist just for our crew."

"Any Jagged Stone remixes?" Adrien asked.

"Only the best," Nino said. "And a surprise track you'll all scream over."

"I'm in," Adrien said.

Alya beamed. "Then it's settled. Chloe's party is officially our squad's social event of the year."

Marinette laughed softly, trying to keep her nerves at bay. She was going to Chloe's party. With Adrien. In heels.

No big deal. He was just a friend and she couldn't afford any distractions.

This was a very big deal.

The bell rang not long after, echoing through the courtyard like a final cymbal clash in Nino's imaginary party set. Students slowly scattered, buzzing about outfits and RSVP codes and whether Chloé had actually hired a live swan for the centerpiece, or if that was just a rumor.

Marinette trailed behind the others, her bag heavy against her shoulder and her brain louder than any courtyard chatter. She clutched the strap tightly, the faint image of Adrien's smile looping through her mind like a record that kept skipping. He said he'd be there. He'd maybe dance with her. He smiled like it meant something.

Which would've been perfect—if this were a cheesy romantic comedy and not, you know, real life. Where there was also Lila Rossi.

Her good mood wobbled, then cracked.

Lila.

The name alone made Marinette's stomach knot. If there was anyone more likely to turn Chloé's birthday party into a public execution for Marinette, it was her. And if Adrien was there—and if Lila was there, smiling with those manipulative little lies—and if he showed up with her...

Marinette shook her head quickly, trying to clear the storm cloud. Focus. Just go to class. Worry about it later.

Later ended up being twenty minutes into lunch, when she and Alya snagged their usual spot under the tree near the edge of the courtyard. Marinette peeled the wrapper off her sandwich in slow motion, her mind still stuck in loops about dresses, disaster, and Adrien's perfectly stupid hair.

Alya scrolled through her phone, eyes wide. "Okay, Chloé just posted a behind-the-scenes of the party planning. There's a freaking ice sculpture of her face. I'm not even mad. That's iconic."

Marinette hummed in response, chewing robotically.

Then, a conversation nearby caught her attention.

"Did you hear?" said Sabrina, her voice too loud, probably on purpose. "Chloé says no one can show up without a date. It's supposed to be a mature event. No solo stragglers."

"Yeah," someone else added. "She said it's a party, not a pity parade."

Alya looked up immediately, catching the flash of panic on Marinette's face.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

Marinette blinked. "What?"

"The thing with the sandwich," Alya said. "You've been trying to unwrap it for five minutes."

"Oh." Marinette looked down. She'd completely shredded the paper. "Cool. That's... great."

Alya lowered her voice. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," Marinette lied, voice wobbling slightly.

Alya didn't push, but Marinette knew she didn't buy it either. The words from the other table echoed louder in her head than they probably had in real life.

No solo stragglers. Must bring a date.

Adrien would need a date.

And he'd probably pick Lila.

Marinette felt her chest tighten, her appetite vanishing. All the breath she'd been holding earlier—when Adrien smiled at her, when she thought maybe—now rushed out in a quiet, invisible sigh.

She stared at the half-eaten sandwich in her lap, thoughts spiraling faster than she could keep up.

This was why she didn't do parties. This was why she didn't do feelings. Everything always circled back to Adrien and how impossible it all was. He was perfect and kind and frustratingly polite to everyone—including Lila. He never saw the things Marinette did. Or maybe he did and just... didn't care.

And even if he did care, what was she supposed to do? Walk up to him and say, "Hi, I'm totally normal, not a superhero or anything, and I'd like to be your date because I've been in love with you since middle school, even though I can't seem to hold a conversation without tripping over a tree root or my own dignity"?

Yeah. No thanks.

She rested her head against the tree trunk and closed her eyes.

Love made everything harder. More fragile. She'd said as much to Tikki just the other night, trying to explain why it was easier to pretend she didn't care. That it was safer to keep everything locked away where no one could touch it—especially not someone as golden and out-of-reach as Adrien Agreste.

A soft poke on her shoulder made her open her eyes. Alya was watching her carefully.

"You're spiraling," she said gently.

"I'm not," Marinette muttered, sitting up straighter.

"You are. Your eyebrows are doing the thing."

"What thing?"

"The 'I'm panicking but pretending not to panic' thing."

Marinette sighed. "It's just... if Adrien brings a date—if it's Lila—I don't know if I can handle that. I mean, she lies, and manipulates, and—and he likes her. Or at least he doesn't not like her."

Alya rested a hand on hers. "Look. I don't know what Adrien's thinking. But I do know this: you are not defined by whether or not he picks you."

Marinette's throat tightened. "But what if I'm not enough?"

"You are," Alya said firmly. "You are more than enough. You're brilliant and passionate and—okay, sometimes kind of chaotic—but in a good way."

Marinette smiled weakly. "Thanks."

"You're still going, right?" Alya asked. "To the party?"

Marinette hesitated.

She didn't want to see Adrien with someone else. But she didn't want to run away either. Not anymore. Hiding never made anything easier. It just made her feel smaller.

She took a breath.

"I'm going," she said, nodding slowly. "Even if I go alone. Even if I trip on the carpet and fall into the fondue. I'll go."

Alya grinned. "That's my girl."

Marinette tried to match her smile. Deep down, the anxiety still hummed in her chest, but under it was something else—something stronger.

Determination.

She didn't know what would happen at this party.

But she'd face it.

Whatever came next.

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