Chapter Text
Paris, in the summer, always had a strange flavor. It wasn't really the heat, nor the calm of the streets emptied of tourists. It was more the feeling that something was changing, slowly, like a whisper in the air, a secret that the city itself hesitated to speak aloud.
Lila Rossi watched the Seine from the Agreste's balcony.
She was wearing an ivory dress given to her by Gabriel himself, a discreet piece of jewelry on her wrist, and that smile she had learned to master—not the one you show to please, but the one that hides what you really think.
Adrien was downstairs, in the gardens. He was laughing with Nathalie and stroking Plagg's head, now more docile than before. He looked good. Not necessarily in love, but... serene. And Lila clung to that.
She had won. Finally. There was no longer any rival. No more confrontation.
Marinette was gone.
It had happened without a fuss. Without shouting. A simple announcement, made in the locker room one Friday after school:
> "I'm leaving for New York. I've been accepted into a design program supervised by Audrey Bourgeois. I'm leaving next week."
No one knew what to say. Even Chloé had frozen. Part of her seemed proud—the other, jealous.
Adrien? He had remained silent.
Lila, however, hadn't reacted. Not in front of the others. But in her heart, it was like hearing a lock snap.
Marinette was no longer there.
No last stand, no heroine's speech. She was just... gone. As if she had understood that Paris no longer belonged to her. As if she had finally accepted to live for herself and not for others.
But this departure left a strange void.
A silence.
Even for Lila.
The sound of footsteps behind her made her jump.
"Are you coming?"
Adrien asked as he stepped onto the balcony, a soft smile on his lips.
He had let his hair fall freely today.
He was wearing a simple white shirt, but everything on him seemed tailor-made.
"Of course," she replied, taking his hand.
They went down together, arm in arm, like a perfect couple.
But in Adrien's eyes, there was sometimes a shadow.
A trace of memories he no longer dared to evoke. And Lila knew it.
She could erase the present, manipulate the future.
But the past?
The past had another mistress.
And her name was Marinette.
In New York, Marinette put her suitcase down in a modest studio, bathed in natural light.
Audrey was waiting for him in his office, already sending him a series of appointments and instructions to follow to the letter.
This world was anything but gentle—but at least here, she only had herself to save.
No masks. No red suit.
Just her talent, her sketches, and a dream she refused to bury.
And meanwhile, in Paris, the invisible threads continued to tighten.
For one day, paths would cross again.
And that day...
It would be neither a victory nor a defeat.
It would be an awakening.