Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Gate E is now open, leaving for Paris, France in an hour.”

Chloe slowly got out of her seat and walked to the forming line at the check-in. It had been years since she had been on a plane, and the thought of flying made her a little queasy. But it was not the flight that worried her as much; it was the worry of actually arriving at her destination.

Paris.

It was a place that did not bring her many great memories, and was a place she vowed to stay away from ever since she left for New York City. Chloe remembered the day she left, the day when she broke all ties with everyone she knew and left no notice of her disappearance. Now, at the ripe age of twenty-four, she focused on one thing: avoiding all confrontations with her father and sister as much as possible; additionally, anyone who held a grudge against her.

As she walked, she spotted a bathroom to the right in the corner of her eye. Chloe thought of hiding in one of those tiny stalls and letting her flight take off. But, she was offered an opportunity to be interviewed for the position of supervisor for the company, Gabriel Agreste, courtesy of her mother. Run by Gabriel Agreste, it is a highly successful corporation, both domestically and internationally. If she gets the job, Chloe would be making a very grand salary after her first year at the company. With this idea in mind, she felt a little better. Another idea that spurred hope was knowing that she would be flying first class. Maybe the strong wine would calm down her nerves.

The flight went by faster than Chloe wanted it to. She tried to start reading The Times by Marc Anciel. Although he was a splendid writer, her restless nature got the better of her. The chair began to get uncomfortable, and Chloe immediately began to regret not bringing her travel-sized putty. All she could do was gaze out of the window, fixated on the sad, grey clouds that lay below. Looking at them made her even more upset; it was like a bad omen for the future. The familiar feeling of unsettlement filled her system, and she involuntarily began to pick at the armrest attached to the leather chair. Paris is huge, there is no way I could run into them. I could avoid everyone who more or less hates me. Maybe they wouldn’t care if I were here. Maybe they won’t even know who I am.

She clicked her tongue with disdain. Why do I care, Chloe thought, scratching her nail more fervently. I'm probably more successful than everyone there anyway. I-

Her thoughts stopped when she gazed down. To her surprise, a gaping hole was formed in the armrest where her finger was picking.

Her flight landed at 18:30 in military time, and it was already dark by the time Chloe left the airport. Although there was no fresh snow in sight, there was a harsh wind, and it was cold to the point where she could see her breath. The stench of rat pee and gasoline penetrated her nose. It was certainly not a warm welcome, but Paris was not a place that was welcome to the daughter of ex-mayor Bourgeois. A tiny part of her missed him, but most of her wanted nothing to do with him. He is still incompetent and has a hard time not choosing favorites. However, these feelings quickly went away when her phone began to ring. It was the landlord for the apartment she would be leasing. She accepted the call.

“Hello?”

“Is this Chloe Bourgeois?”, the lady’s voice sounded over the phone, raspy either from lack of water or from smoking too much nicotine.

“Yes, this is. Are you Mrs. Graugshem?”

“Indeed I am. I just wanted to verify that your mother will be paying for the first month. Audrey Bourgeois, that is?”

Chloe stifled a scoff of surprise. Audrey Bourgeois, being generous? This was new. But, she’ll take advantage of Audrey at any chance. “Yes, do you need her bank information?”

“No. But another thing I called you about was the closing of the lease. I am afraid we are going to have to push back our agreement until next Monday.”

Chloe’s heart stopped. “Why is that, Mrs. Graugshem?”

“You see, my sister got into this horrible motorcycle accident, and she is currently in the hospital. I am so sorry. I am sure you can understand, considering this is a family emergency, and I am terribly worried about her…”

As the lady kept rambling on, Chloe wanted nothing more than to tell her off. She has already notified the moving company that she will need her furniture in Paris tomorrow. This is so ridiculous. Her sister is not going to be leaving the hospital anytime soon, and she could have seen her after the closing agreement. Now what am I going to do?

She huffed. “Well, that is unfortunate...I guess. I will see you next Monday.” Chloe then hung up the phone and began to look for any available hotels nearby.

When searching the web, she quickly began to realize that every hotel room was booked. More or less, everywhere that was accommodating to her needs was booked. It did not help that it was nearing Christmas and that many people traveled to Paris at this time. Chloe finally settled on staying in a run-down-looking motel that was near the center of the Gabriel Agreste company. At least it is close. But give me a break, she told the universe. Nothing was going her way; first, she could not get into the apartment until next week, all the decent hotels were booked, and she had slush stains all over her pointed, black boots. Chloe was exceptionally upset about that last part. She then began to walk, hoping that everything else in the future would work out.

Her destination was about a ten-minute walk. As she strolled across the street and turned left to the parking lot of the hotel, a calm melody caught her ear. Chloe stopped, registered the beautiful tune, and backtracked to where the sound led her. It led her to a street to the left of the hotel, where tall lights lined up. A man not much older than herself sat on a paint bucket, strumming to the song, “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear” on his guitar.

She noticed that the man was of slender build and had shaggy black hair with dyed blue tips. He wore a washed-out denim jacket, and underneath sported a worn-out Jagged Stone t-shirt. Not an outfit made for this weather. The man then stopped playing and looked up; his eyes were a calm turquoise blue and were almost opaque. Very pretty eyes, she thought.

Chloe then realized he had stopped playing.

The man looked at her expectantly, a brow arched. She suddenly felt a little awkward staring and quickly looked down. “Please continue what you were playing, it was very good,” she mumbled, embarrassed. The man did not say a word; he merely turned the other way and continued to strum the guitar. Chloe almost turned away to leave when she felt an unsettling feeling in her body. She could not help but feel a little guilty for this man, who was in the cold wearing nothing but a denim jacket. With an internal sigh, Chloe fetched her wallet, pulled out twenty euros, and set them in the open guitar case in front of him.

His eyes flickered over to her. “Please buy yourself a coat,” she said, looking at him. “I know it isn’t much for a good coat, but get something warm nevertheless. It can get cold out this time of year.” The man looked like he was going to reply; however, Chloe was already walking away.

Chapter Text

The motel room smelled like lotion and body odor when she entered. Immediately, Chloe put a hand to her nose and whipped out her carry-on coconut hibiscus perfume. She sprayed large amounts into the room, the settled odor continuing to make her eyes water. When she was satisfied, Chloe surveyed the room.

Funky odor, Stained comforter, and—she peered into the window across—an ugly view. Chloe then checked out the bathroom, which did not look incredibly grotesque. She breathed a sigh of relief. At least the bathroom is tolerable, which is a terribly low bar to set for myself. She lingered on the thought of calling her mother and asking her for some proper accommodations. Though I would not come across as exceptional if I grovel to her feet this quickly. Chloe needed to secure this job if she wanted any chance of her mother’s recognition. Which meant she needed to make a good impression on her interviewer.

While sifting through the unlimited number of clothes crammed in her suitcase, Chloe began to realize that she had nothing to wear for the interview tomorrow. Some of the clothes she brought were okay, while others were downright atrocious. Seriously, why did I pack this horizontal striped tube top? she thought, as she flung the article of clothing to the ground.

It was a very stressful few hours; in addition to the lack of cute clothing she had, it was beginning to get late. Chloe began to worry if she would even get this job, and took a break. She huffed and landed on her bed with a soft thud. Her head turned to the right, eyes sweeping over the flurry of clothing. I could wear the long-sleeve, black scoop top with a pair of blue jeans, but I would need a shawl or some kind of cardigan. The cardigans I do have are either not the suitable color, or the suitable length. God, I wish the one I want in my head would just appear. She then looked across from where she was lying and gazed at the window. The city was still bustling. Chloe then glanced over at the thin white curtains, and she snapped her fingers. She knew what she had to do.

After midnight passed, Chloe finally began to settle in bed. She felt confident about the outfit planned. Who knew that curtains would be great to use for everyday fashion? However, she would have to explain to the front desk why the curtains were cut up. No matter, she thought. They would have thrown them away sooner or later. Chloe set her alarm to 7:30 am. The interview will be tomorrow at half past nine, and this time would allow her to prepare. She thought to herself, Everything will work out.

Chloe woke up at 8:30.

While lying in bed, she slowly blinked her eyes. She caught sight of the time, and she jumped out of bed. 8:30?! Chloe, you need to get ready! She rushed into the bathroom and began to set out her shower products. Chloe stripped her pajamas off and pulled the shower curtain open. Suddenly, she shrieked, as a nest of cockroaches bigger than her thumb resided in the corner of the shower. A dead rat carcass was also present as well, with the cherry on top being the little bugs eating away the rat. Chloe jumped out of the shower and called the helpdesk.

“Hello, this is the helpdesk speaking. What can we do—”

“There is a dead rat and an infestation of cockroaches in my shower!” Chloe yelled over the phone. “I want a refund, this is unacceptable!”

“I’m afraid we cannot do that, our policy states—”

“Fuck your policy, and fuck you guys! This is the shittiest hotel experience I have ever had, and if you guys think I am going to let this slide, you are dealing with the wrong person, you no good—” she began to further hurl insults over the phone, not able to rest until the situation was resolved in her favor. It was a quarter past nine when extermination cleared the insects and the dead rat from the bathroom. 

Chloe rushed out of the hotel. It was five minutes to thirty, and the company was a three-minute walk from the hotel. Cannot believe that happened today. That bathroom was too good to be true. But I need to calm down, my interview starts in five minutes. I need to get there in time. She walked at a pace that could almost be considered running, and when she got to the company, she had two minutes to spare. She hurried to the front desk across, where a lady with cropped hair and small spectacles resided.

“Hello, my name is Chloe Bourgeois. I have an interview for the position of junior supervisor of perfume manufacturing.”

The lady sifted through her papers, found a lanyard, and handed it to Chloe. “Your interview is in room 104 on the third floor.” Chloe snatched the lanyard and headed up to the third floor below. 

It was 9:32 when she reached the designated room. Two minutes late; hopefully, the interviewer did not mind. However, she found the whole interviewing process for a job at this company weird; she did not know anything about the person interviewing her, nor did she see anything about contact information on the application. The latter was more suspicious, however. Chloe smoothed her hair, which was barely done up, and checked her teeth for any lipstick. None. She also checked her outfit. At least her outfit looked nice; that cardigan was her pride. Now, I just need to make a good impression. With a long breath in and an even longer exhale out, she opened the door.

When she entered the room, her body went cold with fear.

Her interviewer was Adrien Agreste.

Chapter Text

Adrien Agreste was a handsome man, she had to admit. He had fair skin with a rosy tint, stark green eyes, and a smile that always took her breath away. At the moment, however, he currently wore a slight frown on his face, which was an attempt at keeping his hatred of her at bay. Although they were childhood friends, they did not have the best relationship throughout their years in high school, and it only got worse after she left Paris. Sometimes, she would see him at big, international galas and attempt to clear the air, only to be met with contempt. Chloe simply did not understand why he would act like that. Was it because of his wife? Knowing him, probably. He will believe anything she says. But she cannot think about this at the moment. There was an interview to get done, and hopefully, it would secure her the job.  

Chloe took the seat across from him. Awkward tension filled the air, and Chloe felt her throat becoming dry. I need to keep myself together. I will probably not run into him after this. Let's just act like we don’t know each other.

She took another breath and exhaled sharply. “Hello…my name is Chloe Bourgeois. I apologize for being late. Here is my resume.”

Chloe handed him the information. Adrien glanced at the file presented to him and set it to the side. “Tell me about yourself,” he asked. 

I guess he got the memo, she thought. “I lived in New York City for six years, and I enjoy shopping and sewing.”

Adrien scoffed after the word shopping. Thirty seconds into this interview he was already being a jerk. Guessed he never heard of the word ‘professional’ . “How well did you do academically at university?”

This was a stupid question. “I did quite exceptional. I got a B average in all of my classes.” 

Adrien began to look at her job record. “It says on here that you used to work for a chemical plant in the Brooklyn subdivision. What was your least favorite part of that job?”

Truthfully, she would say it was because of her boss. “My previous manager and I had…a rocky relationship,” she said calmly.

“Was there a reason why?” he said with an edging tone.

Chloe was taken aback. “No particular reason.”

 “I am not quite sure I believe you. It says on here that you were fired seven months ago for insubordination.” He looked at her with a challenging look in his eyes, and let out a soft chuckle. “Typical.”

As handsome as he may be, It took all of Chloe’s restraint to not spew an array of curses at him. You need this job, you need this job, you need this job,...but I want to throttle his scraggly little neck until he is unable to say another word. 

Catching herself though, Chloe painted a face of neutrality. “Maybe there was a good reason. You know, they usually do not tell the full story.”

“Would you enlighten me then on why?”

“It should not concern you, Mr. Agreste. I must say this is a highly inappropriate question.”

Adrien gave her a mocking smile. “I apologize for offending you, Ms. Bourgeois.”

Chloe's face heated, and she quietly scoffed at the remark. He was not sorry in the slightest. 

Adrien opened the resume file once more and observed the qualifications listed. “It says you have expertise in working with chemical quality and quantity. Plus, you also have stellar recommenders.” He raised his eyebrows a little at the latter, and Chloe returned his mocking smile. He thought no one would recommend me. He’s still stuck in high school. Adrien looked up and softly sighed. “You are hired.”

Really? All that was required was to simply show up, answer three questions, and present a resume. This felt too easy. But, a win is a win. “When do I start?”

Silently, Adrien walked behind the desk and grabbed a business card. He wrote something on the back of it and then gave it to Chloe. “This is your new manager’s phone number. Contact her, and you can ask her for any other information. Thank you for taking the time to come and do this interview.”

“Thank you, Adrien. I have my deepest gratitude to you.” With a fake smile, Chloe proceeded to shake his hand and headed to the door. Couldn’t even bother to tell me what I was doing. But, this could mean he is not my supervisor. Well, good news for me. 

“Wait,” Adrien said. 

Chloe’s steps faltered. What now? I just want to leave, and hopefully never see you again . “I want to ask you—”

“Adrien, if you want to talk about…things, you can have my number again,” she spluttered. 

His mouth was slightly agape. “Wait, what?”

What?  Without thinking, Chloe strode to the desk, snatched a pen, and scrawled her number on a receipt she found buried in her purse. Take me out right now, I cannot believe I am doing this. What am I thinking? She then handed it to Adrien, and unable to look him in the eyes, strolled out of the room quickly. Adrien blinked slowly and contemplated what just happened. How does she have the nerve and the gall to give me her number? Again? The trash bin was in the right corner of the office printer, and as he went to throw the number away, he saw something else on the back. What he read made him chuckle. So unlike her. The little receipt inevitably found its home in the trash. However, he began to wonder what kind of explanation Chloe would have for why she would go to Burger King on a Tuesday night. 

Frozen yogurt was a perfect sweet treat to celebrate the aftermath of the interview. I thought I was so done when I found out Adrien Agreste was my interviewer. It turns out that he knows how to separate feelings from his professional life. However, along with this thought, another creeping unsettlement filled her stomach. I hope I do not run into anyone else of significance from this point on. She turned right from the company's entrance and walked by Freud’s Frozen Yogurt. The place looked jam-packed. Although the weather was chilly, frozen yogurt can be considered popular among tourists. Although understanding the increase in tourism during the Christmas season, she was too impatient when waiting in line. Chloe turned the other way and was near the motel when she spotted the same musician, this time playing a violin. The tune was a wave of drawled-out highs and a short burst of lows, but it strung together perfectly to encompass something similar to a storm out at sea. The movement of the bow hair was quick, going from an A chord to a G in just a few motions. It was a violent, careless movement for a violinist, but something that she could listen to all day. Though, I cannot sit out in the cold like this. I do not even have my coat, and I am already freezing when I walk.  With a dejected sigh, she strolled past him, but not without noticing that he was wearing a long, black coat. 

Chapter Text

A few days have passed since the interview, and Chloe learned two things. The first was that the walls were very thin. In the night, she could hear every footstep, every word, and every movement. It sounded like two guys were staying together, and they were chatting very loudly for it being one o’clock in the morning. Chloe had been awake, tired and frustrated, for an hour at this point. This was insane, couldn’t they just shut up and go to sleep? Knowing that she would wake up with a massive headache if they did not quiet down, she got out of her bed and marched next door. Chloe knocked twice, very loudly. Although she did not look presentable in the slightest, she still needed to tell these people off. A man opened the door, confuddled. He had olive skin, a long face, and small grey eyes. Chloe also noticed that he was incredibly toned, and taller than the average man she would see in Paris. Weirdly enough, he looked familiar, like she had seen him before. “What can I help you with?” he asked in a light tone. 

Chloe huffed. “You guys are being very loud right now, and I would like for you to quiet down.” 

He looked at her with a mocking smile. “Alright, we’ll shut up.”

Chloe was about to leave, but the man lightly grabbed her wrist. “But only if I get your number, gorgeous.”

Great, just what I needed. An annoying creep. She would try to break free, but his grip was incredibly solid. Guess there needed to be another way out of this situation. She sighed. “Alright, I’ll give you my number. Do you have a piece of paper?” She gave him a sweet smile. 

Chloe noticed that his cheeks turned a little pink. It works every time. But pleased with his answer, let her in his room. She noticed the other man in the room, and he looked incredibly embarrassed for his friend. He looked very scrawny and had square glasses, dark skin, and brown eyes. He also looked to be around her height and wore sweats. Likewise, he also looked very familiar. This is weird. She ignored the thought. 

The man turned to her and handed her a notebook. She flipped to the first page, and saw a list of other women, with their numbers attached. Some were crossed off. Either they turned him down, or he was bored with them after quite a while. Chloe internally felt a coil of disgust with the latter thought. Who would want to get with him if they knew this? An idea occurred to her at that moment. Despite being cruel, she wanted to toy with this man. No one gets away with being a player, even someone as unprincipled as herself understood that notion. Chloe got a pen, flipped to the other page, and wrote down her number. She closed the notebook and walked over to him. With a flirty smile, she said “You know, you seem like a fun guy. Mind if I get your number too? So I know it’s you?” 

The man beamed. “I don’t do this often, but since you're so pretty, why not.” He tore a page and wrote his number down. He handed it to her, and she took it. Chloe’s eyes widened with shock when she saw the man’s name at the top. “Mind if I ask what both of your names are?” she said, addressing both of them. 

“His name is Max,” he said, pointing to the shorter guy, “And my name is Kim.” 

Chloe froze. No way, it can’t be. This must be a coincidence. “Another question: What high school did you go to, Kim?” she said, her voice wavering.

“Françoise Dupont,” he said, confused. “Why?”

Chloe smiled weakly. “You just look like someone I know, that’s all.”

She quickly walked out of the room. Max and Kim looked at each other, bewildered. 

The hallway couldn’t have felt any narrower as she walked back to her room. When she entered, Chloe slammed the door shut, heart racing. She slumped onto the ground. What did I get myself into? I cannot believe I gave Kim my number! Chloe got up weakly, disoriented by the events that transpired. It did not help that the room was dark as she tripped over the many shoes sprawled at the entrance. Chloe had too many damn shoes. As she crawled into bed, she decided to avoid Kim and Max at all costs. Especially Kim. The ‘revenge plan’ did not seem very enticing anymore; even though Kim gave the impression of a player, she had a good feeling about who caused that behavior to erupt. 

Her fists clung to the bedsheets, and her breath came out shaky. She cannot pretend that she did not hurt people. The past clung to her for years and would continue to haunt her. But she can avoid it for some time. Whatever it takes to make my life easier, she thought, as she drifted asleep.

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Interlude

“Kim, didn’t she look familiar to you?”

Max sat on the bedside, tinkering with Markov. The robot was about the size of a paperback book, and the shape of the flying robot could only be compared to the shape of a balloon, according to Kim. Large and round at the top, but had a metallic tail. It was Max’s prized possession, and what led to him earning a full ride in the Institut Polytechnique de Paris (IP Paris for short). Currently, he is working on a new research project for his master’s program regarding Artificial intelligence in education. That concept was too comprehensive for Kim, though. He’s just happy that his best buddy is doing something he loves. 

Kim contemplated Max’s question. “Not really.”

Max looked up. “Now that I think about it, doesn’t she look a lot like Chloe Bourgeois?”

“Yeah, but I heard she lives in New York City now. I highly doubt she would return to Paris.”

“You know, I remember back in high school you had quite an infatuation with her—”

“Yeah, cuz’ she was hot,” Kim waved dismissively. “However, she had a terrible personality.” 

Max chuckled. “Terrible can’t even describe it accurately. More like derived of any morals and respect for any human being.” Max set Markov down and walked over to the bathroom. Once he closed the door, Kim plopped on the motel bed. Chloe. That name brought back terrible, humiliating memories. He remembered when he got her that broch. He remember when she broke his heart ruthlessly, mocked him, and posted that embarrassing picture of him. He remembers getting akumatized, losing control of his body, and his emotions. She was a thorn disguised as a beautiful rose, and when he clasped to it, his hands would bleed from pain. “Everyone hates her here, and good reason too,” he whispered. “I hope I never run into her again.”

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Chapter Text

“You're early.”

It was 10:30 in the morning. Meladonna was seated in her small office overlooking the giant chemical factory. The woman was not a pleasant sight: her eyes were droopy, dark purple bags were beginning to form, and she looked so pale that it made Chloe wonder if she was sick. She chewed on a plastic straw that was currently absent from her styrofoam cup.

“Anyway, name is Meladonna, I will be your supervisor.”

“Nice to meet you, how was your—”

“I am going to get straight to the bullshit. Your job is to oversee the chemical quantities that are being used to purify the water and review reports regarding the manufacturing of the perfume. If anyone calls in, help them. In other words, make sure nothing gets screwed up.”

This is a hefty job for sure. “Will I just be up here most of the time?”

She gave out a tired sigh. “Yes. Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to take my lunch break. Your workspace will be over there—” she pointed at the tiny desk in the corner, “—and you are going to look over some of that paperwork. Make sure everything is signed, and carefully read these oversights. Many of the reports involve some kind of malfunction." She then grabbed her purse and worn-out purple coat and stood up. “I’m going to head out now,” she drawled.“Please organize the desk while I am gone.”

Meladonna then gave an exasperated wave and left the room. Once the door clicked shut, Chloe settled in her desk. She pursued her lips, holding in her frustration. Not only does she sound like a bitch, but she can’t even keep herself tidy. Papers were scattered everywhere, the file cabinets did not contain any file sheets whatsoever, and different writing utensils were in different cupholders. What aggravated her the most was finding a moldy sandwich underneath her desk. This is disgusting , she thought . With an exasperated sigh, she began to collect and divide the papers by relevancy, used the untouched file sleeves, reorganized the pens, and took care of the moldy sandwich nobody bothered to throw away. It would be two hours before Meladonna came back from her lunch break. 

She came back a little more recharged than before. “You're still here…” Meladonna walked past her towards the desk as Chloe furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.   “Alright, let me show you what you need to keep track of…” She ushered Chloe to sit in the chair across from her desk and walked her through the process. Although she talked slowly and dully, she knew her job and taught her about what the job entailed. She was also good at answering her questions and concerns and even gave her emergency phone numbers if she had any trouble. “...You can also contact me whenever you need to—” she paused, “—just not in the evenings, please. I get a little cranky.” Chloe gave out a chuckle. Same. Meladonna gave out a slight smile. “I like you. Now, let's show you around the place and get you introduced to your co-workers.”

As she and Meladonna walked towards their destination, Chloe began to realize the company was huge. There were many rooms for testing, a greenhouse for plant oil extraction, and a storage room, and there were even some classes in the building. “Meladonna, why are there classes here?” Chloe asked. Meladonna peered out of one of the windows. “They do these classes for all the chemists that are working here. They go over protocol at the company, our code of conduct, and safety rules. Many of the chemists that plan to work here also have to get evaluated so that things are safe in this area.” She spun around, her heels clacking. Chloe followed silently. 

The two women eventually got to the production room, which was down a floor. This was the section that Chloe would be overseeing for her job. The room was a decent size; the walls were made of light grey concrete, and there were a couple dozen workers. There were two perfume filters on either side of the room, a freezer, and a storage area in the back. Three desks formed an incomplete square and were littered with test tubes. “Follow me,” Meladonna said. They turned to a side of stairs which, according to Meladonna, led to the technician's room. Inside, an older man in his fifties. He had a full head of gray hair and small beady eyes.

“Hello Mel,” he said cheerily.

“Hello Dr. Eddy,” she said wearily. “Could you tell your workers to pause their business for a minute? I want to introduce them to their new supervisor.” 

“Sure thing.” He pressed a button, and the speakers came on. “Everyone, please place your business on hold…”

Meladonna called a meeting in the room across the hallway from the production room. There were about fourteen people who worked in this sector, and all were in attendance today. Chloe gulped as they took their seats. She was not a person who got too nervous around large crowds; however, this felt too impromptu, and she felt a little uncomfortable being one of the only people standing up. Meladonna cleared her throat loudly and started. The room was silent.

“As you all know, I will be leaving this company in four weeks. Despite spending a fantastic fifteen years with this company, I am ready to start a new chapter of my life. So, without further ado, I would like to introduce you to my replacement, Chloe Bourgeois. She will be overseeing the production of Gabriel products in this sector when I leave, but for now, I will be training her. I trust that you will have your utmost cooperation with her and treat her with the same respect you treat me.”

Meladonna nodded to Chloe. Her eyes shifted to the crowd, addressing them. Chloe’s heart dropped. In the room, in the group of co-workers she was overseeing in a month, Alya Césaire and Rose Lavillant were sitting in two of those chairs. Chloe sucked in a little breath. God, why them?!

Alya and Rose looked very similar from when she last saw them in high school Rose still had that shrewd pixie cut, and piercing blue eyes that somehow read you like an open book. Alya still wore thick-framed glasses and still loved wearing plaid. However, Alya sported closely cropped hair nowadays, and to be honest…Chloe thought it was a good look for her. I can't believe this is happening. Why am I getting cursed?! Though, I wonder how if her and Nino are still together... But, it was hard to think about anything when Alya looked like she was two seconds from throttling Chloe. Her posture was stiff, her pale brown eyes filled with hatred. Chloe’s eyes averted away, snapping her out of the trance. She just had to get through this introduction like she got through the interview with Adrien. “It is a pleasure to meet you all—” she said, looking at Alya pointedly, “—and I hope we can all get along. I will see you around.”

It was 20:32 when she was released from her duties. Darkness filled the sky, the wind was a stalemate, and light snow fell to the ground. Chloe breathed in the crisp, cold air. It was a nice break from the cramped desk and bleak room she stayed in for more than 10 hours. Lots of reading. Hate it, hate it. On the bright side, I will be out of that motel soon. Hopefully, the closing deal works out well. But, fuck that lady for making me stay at the motel in the first place. She walked on the sidewalk, hoping to find the talented musician again. He plays such pleasant music, and hearing him create music makes the better parts of her day. Though, she wondered, I never bothered to ask his name. But why should I? I have only exchanged one sentence with him, why would I ask? When she rounded the corner to where the musician resided, she noticed he was gone. Where did he go? Chloe looked around for a minute and sighed sadly. There was no sight of the musician anywhere. Although she had hope in her heart that he would come back tomorrow, a part of her was deeply upset he did not show up today. 

But, the motel was the last place she wanted to go to. Instead of taking the right that would lead her there, she went straight and continued toward the nice, lit neighborhoods of Paris. As she walked, she didn’t realize it was Christmas Eve until she looked up, and saw a decorated tree out of the living room window of one house. A sad chuckle escaped. Chloe remembered a time when her family would celebrate Christmas together. Audrey would constantly insist on embarking on fine dining, while Andre would always insist on baking a honey-roasted ham, only to fail miserably. Then, screaming matches would erupt, and Chloe would retreat back to her room. The butler would be fetched, and he would help her build a fort to sleep in for the night. She could feel her body and mind dissociate, as the noise would only get louder, and dishes would begin breaking. Her vision was blank, and all she could remember was a void of nothingness. As time passed, Chloe would begin to eat Christmas dinner in her room, with Butler Jean as her only company. He always knew what to do for me, she thought sadly. Even though it hurts her pride greatly, she misses her butler. Nowadays, no family or friends celebrate with her during the holidays, and her only Christmas gift was a long day at work. A tear slid down her cheek before she quickly wiped it away. God, get yourself together.

The sidewalks began to get icy when traversing through the neighborhood, so much so that Chloe almost slipped twice. Nevertheless, she kept on walking, enamored by the festive lights that lit up the streets. It began to grow colder, and she began to have a sense that she got lost. I have no idea where I am, she thought. Chloe opened her phone and attempted to find the motel she was staying at. To no avail, she couldn’t track where she was; the signal was down. I genuinely do not understand, the weather is perfectly fine, and I am in the city. There has to be some sort of signal. Chloe grew afraid. Paris is a relatively safer area compared to New York City, but it does not mean that there was no crime. Additionally, she was all alone, and it would be easier for criminals to attack or rob her. She decided to wander around and see if she could spot areas that she knows are close to the motel. Her gut usually told her where to go, anyway.

This led her only farther away; she knew when she arrived at the docking areas of the Seine River that help was needed. Maybe I should have asked someone where I was at. This is so stupid, how did I get lost in a place I thought I knew so well? Though in despair, she noticed that a massive houseboat was docked, and the lights were on. Weird place to stay in the winter, Chloe thought. She considered the idea of asking the people in there for help. But where would I even knock? It's a houseboat.  She then spotted a little door tucked under the front deck. Chloe decided to step on the boat, the boat slightly rocking, and knocked loudly. It was quite strange to do, to say the least. I feel like I am trespassing. Maybe this is not a good idea. I probably should have called the police. The door opened, and a young woman who was about her age came into appearance. The woman had long, black hair with purple tips and red contacts. Chloe also noticed that she was lanky, model-thin, and a little taller than herself. There was a sense of familiarity that came when she laid eyes on the woman. I have seen her before,...but I can't put a name on her.

“How can I help you?” she asked quietly. 

“Are you a resident?”

“Yes.”

“I do not know where I am currently at. I was wondering if you know where the Rivers Motel is?”

The woman looked at her blankly. “I do not know where that is located.”

Chloe clamped her mouth shut, bottling up her frustration. Are you kidding me? You live here, yet you don’t even know where everything is? This is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. 

Before Chloe could leave, the woman mumbled a suggestion. “Let me get my brother—” she hurried away, face heating up. Chloe found it a little odd that she ran away so quickly from her but concluded that she was probably shy.  

She could hear the beckoning of someone. She also heard the person come upstairs and approach the door. However, her heart stopped when she saw the man. It was the musician she saw every time she would head back to the motel. The light hit him in a way that made him seem almost angelic, and his eyes looked at her with genuine concern. It made her feel vulnerable, something that she had not felt in a long time. Chloe’s eyes averted away, uncomfortable with this new feeling. “So—, the man began, “I heard you need help finding the Rivers Hotel?”

Chloe’s eyes snapped back up. “Yes, I do.”

He forced out a little laugh. “Then I think you are going the wrong way. If anything, you are going farther away from your destination.” His face then grew serious. “I can walk with you there if you would like.”

Chloe did not know this man, and in her head, she told herself to decline the offer. But in her heart, she was terrified of walking to the motel alone. 

“Well, you do not have to if I am bothering any of your Christmas plans currently.”

He shrugged. “I don’t have much going on anyway right now. Our party is slowly winding down—”

“Luka! I can’t find the drumsticks, where are they?!” a deep voice erupted from the room. The man rolled his eyes and called out, “They are in the second drawer!” His attention then went back to Chloe. “—But I do not mind helping you out. It can get dangerous out at night, especially on holidays.”

He was such a kind man. “Alright, I appreciate the company,” she replied. 

“Anytime. But let me get some boots on first.”

Though the first few minutes were quiet, Chloe was glad she did not go alone. The streetlights became dark when she walked through the neighborhood this time, and a scream or two echoed in the air. The man walked with a sense of ease, his steps relaxed; she was the opposite, which was stiff and uncomfortable. Chloe needed a distraction from this terrible feeling. “I—”

But the man cut her off. “Thank you.”

Chloe furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. What did he have to be thankful for?

The man saw the befuddled look in her eyes and looked away. “What I mean is, thank you for the money you gave me a couple of days back.” He smiled. “I got a new coat.”

Oh, right. The money I gave him. “Oh, well…it was no big deal. But, how come you aren’t wearing it right now? Aren’t you cold?”

He sighed with regret. “Yeah, I am. But, you needed to get back to the motel, and it was getting late. I did not want to make you wait.”

 “I could have waited,” Chloe muttered.

“I can tell you aren’t the type to like the cold too much.”

Chloe’s head snapped up at him. How did he know?

He looked towards the stop sign of a road that crossed over. “I’m just a little observant, that’s all.”

Her eyes shifted downward, hoping that the man who read her mind didn’t discover more about her. It was so weird, the way he knew more about her in a couple of days than her mother ever knew in the years Chloe stayed with her in New York. 

They got to the motel. I’m lucky I did not get robbed or assaulted,  Chloe thought. She was eternally grateful to this man.

“Well, I should probably head back,” he said. “I don’t want anyone to worry about me.”

Chloe turned to the man. “Thank you for your help, I honestly appreciate it.”

The man smiled back. “No problem.”

As he started to leave, Chloe had a pruning question that festered ever since she started looking for him. She had a feeling it would be weird, creepy, and stupid to ask this question now, but she couldn’t help herself as she asked, “What’s your name?”

He stopped. Then, turned around, and said, “My name is Luka.”

Luka. What a nice name. Suddenly, she heard a chime of deep, loud bells that sounded the calling of midnight. Christmas day. She smiled softly. “Well, Merry Christmas Luka. My name is Chloe.”

Luka regarded her with a brilliant smile. “Merry Christmas to you as well, Chloe.” He then turned around once more and walked away, snow crunching below his feet.  

Chapter Text

After Chloe closed out her agreement with the landlord, it was time for her to say goodbye to the motel. It was a place that she was not going to miss. However, Chloe could not leave this place without something else terrible happening to her. She got charged an added fee when she requested extra toilet paper a couple of days back. It felt like the universe branded her with bad luck. What a scam, she thought. So as she was about to exit, the woman willed herself not to flip off the receptionist and not pay the fee. She did pay the fee; however, Chloe did whirl around and flip her off. It felt good getting the last word, even if the receptionist cussed her out on her way out.

The apartment was only two blocks away to the right of the company, about a 400-meter walk. As Chloe entered the lobby, there was a sixth sense telling her that this place was no better than the motel. The ceilings were low, the walls looked crusty, and the sounds of love-making from the apartment complex down the hall could be heard from the entryway. It made Chloe very uncomfortable and very disappointed. Well, shit. This better not be worse than the motel, she thought grimly . She then walked over to the lady at the receptionist's desk and asked for her apartment key. The lady looked at her slowly. She looked like minutes from falling asleep, as her eyes drooped and her mouth hung open. The woman silently, with shaking hands, opened a desk drawer and handed her the key. “Room 16,” she said with little enthusiasm. Chloe clasped the key, and as she walked to her room, the grunts and moans from the room down the hallway began to get even louder.

The apartment complex was about 56m2, or about 600 square feet. There were five rooms: a main room containing a small kitchen and living space, two bedrooms, and two bathrooms, one of them being a half-bath. The apartment also looked very outdated; flowery wallpaper peeled a little in the main room, and the wooden windows looked in need for a new paint job. The kitchen didn’t come with a hood for the stove, and the synthetic marble countertops were an ugly color creme. But, Chloe could appreciate the fresh coat of white paint for the wooden cabinets. 

Next was the bedroom Chloe would stay in. The room was spacious, and a big window was located to the right of her when entering. Connected to the room was an adequate-sized bathroom, with a grimy shower and an unwashed sink. Her nose scrunched in a little.

Concluding the tour, she concluded that it was a doable place to live in. No dead rats in the shower, and no funky odor. Seems good enough for me, even though I know the bar for judgment is in hell right now. But it did not mean that it was amazing. It needed to be spruced up, and cleaning would have to be the first step towards that goal. The movers would not get here until later this evening, anyway.

There were many reasons why she hated cleaning. Firstly, it was time-consuming, and she could be doing better things. For example, check out the latest trends on The Marionette , a highly acclaimed fashion review article. According to Chloe’s limited research, the designer who published the articles won two fashion awards at both the 2023 and 2024 New York Fashion week, and is highly acclaimed by her own mother, Audrey Bourgeois. Though Chloe always felt uneasy seeing her face at the cover, her respect for her innovative designs always triumphed. However, reading would have to wait, as she piled up the boxes in the kitchen area, and washed the grimy floors. 

Cleaning was time-consuming, to Chloe’s disfavor. Chloe only got the floors washed and swept by the time nightfall occurred. There was still so much to tidy up and clean before work began tomorrow. But despite feeling lethargic, she could not avoid cleaning the bathroom. Her nose scrunched up with disgust at the thought. The bathroom was the worst room in the house; the odor was stuffy, the walls looked grim, and dust covered the corners of the floor and the top of the square mirror. 

Chloe also quickly figured out that press-on nails were not made for this job. While she was cleaning the shower, she was pressing hard into the corners. Scrubbing furiously, her nail bent too much backward and snapped in half. Chloe teared up with frustration; they were really cute. A silver background surrounded the tiny, detailed white flowers that were painted on. The nails also were very glittery, and she had just made them herself. It was a very cruel day indeed. She never had to work this hard in her life. 

The movers came by as expected. Though she was tired from a long day of work, she was happy that her bed had come with the movers to Paris safe and sound. It was a queen-sized bed, with a short wooden head, and long pointy corners at the foot of the bed frame. The comforter

was white, and a huge dark blue crochet blanket was sewn on top by her design. There was also a patched quilt that lay underneath the comforter, and soft, silk-gray sheets. After an hour, the movers took their leave, leaving Chloe with her own exhaustion. She hit the bed, groaning in relief, her eyes slowly blinking with exhaustion. She needed to change out her clothes, wash her face, and brush her teeth. But all she could think about was lying on the bed for a minute, and resting. Maybe just a few minutes wouldn’t hurt, or an hour…

Chloe woke up to the sound of a drowning buzz. Her eyes fluttered open, taking in the warm sun that softly touched her face. She rolled her body over to one side, observing the subtle movement of the green grass, dancing gracefully back and forth. A daisy spouted from the mass, winking at her. With a smile, she took the flower. It twirled around in between her fingers, and the tension that was once hardened on her face melted away. Everything was at ease. 

Suddenly, the buzz of noise that faded into the background became sharp, clear noises. Contortion formed on her face once more, and she sat up. At this moment, she took notice of what she was wearing. The outfit consisted of a square neck ruby gown, with a frilled white chemise underneath. A flowery pattern was used for the bottom half of the gown, and the sleeves were puffed, with embroidered gold roses meeting where the stitching of the dress would occur. She also noticed that her blonde hair was pulled up, and many baby hairs were placed on wires to make a heart-shaped frame around her face. Jewels adorned her neck and fingers, and a fur topcoat rattled with gems. Chloe looked like an established queen, disheveled but had an air of elegance. As she turned to examine the commotion, she paused with horror. She was a queen in the middle of a battlefield. 

The clouds and the sun fought control of the sky, analogous to the soldiers who fought over the unclaimed forest. It was soldier versus soldier. Man to man. Screams of terror and pain erupted, overshadowing the cries of pride that sounded from soldiers. Limbs littered the pure forest, and blood stained the armor of many. She stumbled back from the scene in fear and tripped over her gown. A yelp escaped her throat; she twisted her ankle. A soldier turned her way, and they both locked eyes. Chloe paled with fear at the feral look staring at her. Suddenly it began to run towards her at an abnormal speed, ready to kill her. She jerked back and began to run, fear controlling her body. The trees whipped by, and her vision began to narrow. Her dress grew heavy and began to get torn by the sharp brush and branches that obstructed her way. The adrenaline coursed through her veins, seizing her every moment she took a step. She felt invincible. She felt like she could get away. She tripped.  

Chloe face-planted on the ground, bruising her knee in the process. Tears welled in her eyes, but any form of pain was gone when she saw a dead body. It was Kim’s. She shrieked with terror and was about to keep running when the feral soldier tackled her to the ground. Chloe screamed for help and tried to claw her way out. But the soldier was too strong and pinned her down easily. The soldier pulled her head back, making Chloe lock eyes with her capturer. It was a woman. One she knew very well, and the one person she feared the most. 

Blue eyes bore into her skull, and cold ruthlessness possessed her body as she ripped out the wires in her hair. Chloe screamed, pain searing through her head. Then, the woman proceeded to take off her jewelry and ruin the finery of the dress. Chloe did not understand the attachment to these objects, but she knew that she cared very dearly for these material things. She grieved at the ruin of her pride, the elegance that carried these objects. Chloe tried to wiggle away from her position, tried to kick, and made herself free. A knife was then held to her neck, and it pressed into her skin. No, no, no—Before Chloe could scream in fear, the knife quickly moved away and was pierced into the nape of her neck. Air escaped her lungs, and splotches of red flashed in her vision as the knife slid out and pierced again. There was no escape. Pain filled her mind as darkness crept into her brain, shutting her down…

A shallow gasp woke Chloe up. Cold sweat drenched her, and her throat seemed to be very dry. She looked around the room, which was cluttered with boxes, and felt her face. Just a dream. She looked at the clock; it was currently 1:30. Six more hours until work. Chloe looked out the window that overlooked the streets of Paris. Few cars were out at this time, many lights were still on, and no stars were in the sky. Some people may find comfort in having a little light in their room. But Chloe was one of those exceptions; the light made her feel even more exposed to the world than she already was. There is no pleasure in being in the spotlight all the time, especially if it's for notorious deeds. Chloe steadily got out of bed, went towards the window, and drew the curtains shut. 

Chapter Text

The white, powdering snow began to turn into slush as the months went by. Car tires clashed with the muck, and the smell of gasoline became heavy in the air. New life began to sprout amok in the city of Paris, coupled with the downpouring rain. Chloe looked outside of the window on the third story, watching teardrops drip slowly down the window. Currently, she was at a supervisor meeting, and she could not concentrate one bit on the agenda at hand. It did not help that the walls were a dull shade of grey, that the air felt relaxed, and that she did not drink any coffee this morning. Her eyes fluttered slowly, fighting sleep. Currently, a new designer is presenting their line regarding organic leather purses. The only thing she could catch in specific was that they wanted to sell the patent to Gabriel for about 130,000 euros and that they had to vote on that. This would be a terrible idea, she thought. If the purses are made of organic leather, how well will they do in the rain? Besides, the average amount of a patent for a design/product usually is around 10,000 euros; 130,000 euros was way too much. 

Chloe lowered her eyes down towards the long, dark pine table her index finger involuntarily drawing invisible circles on the top glass. She hated just sitting here, with nothing to do but hear someone yap for about thirty minutes. Her co-workers haven’t even asked their questions regarding the patent. God, get me out of here. She closed her eyes and sighed slightly.

A person shook her shoulder slightly. “Chloe?”

Her eyes snapped open. Everyone was staring at her, some with looks of worry, others with amusement. She turned to face the person who shook her awake. She had wild red hair, freckles all over her face, and an amused smile. Her face reddened slightly with embarrassment. 

Chloe cleared her throat. “Yes?”

“What are your opinions regarding the purse patent?”

Chloe thought for a moment. Sleep really does something to the brain chemistry, because she couldn’t think of any concrete opinion. “Um…I don’t think it is worth the investment.”

Her co-worker hummed with satisfaction. “Interesting. I hope that next time you pay attention during the meetings. The company’s trajectory relies on us to make good decisions, and I would hate to see a loss of company revenue.”

Chloe’s face flushed with shame. Shit. I hope she doesn’t file a complaint to Adrien. 

Her gaze turned away from Chloe’s. “Shall we vote?”

Chloe was really glad when the meeting was over. Now, she had to authorize the shipping orders for gloves, flasks, beakers, test tubes, and beaker holders. Especially beaker holders; the employees were constantly losing the limited amount that the company had and had no place to store their beakers. Then, reviewed employee reports, filed out old paperwork, and filled out more paperwork…good grief, she was done. Her new normal became waking up every morning at 9 am, and then working until 16:30. Even then, she would stay an extra hour to cut her workload by a quarter for the next day, where she would repeat the same routine. 

She sat down at her desk and slumped in her chair. Chloe always knew she would get a somehow nine-to-five job. Nevertheless, she still thought she had a life outside of work. Her eyes went towards the stack of paperwork on the table. With an exasperated sigh, she took a file and began to look over it. Suddenly, every noise and every smell became heightened. When did the windows ever creak? Why does it constantly smell like lemon-fragranced bathroom cleaner? When did the machines ever make those loud sounds? Chloe couldn’t concentrate and decided to stare at the ceiling. Her eyes blinked slowly. There was so much she needed to get done. Suddenly, she heard the laughter of her co-workers, who got back from lunch. Lunch, she thought. Forgot about that. She grabbed her coat and headed out of her lonesome, tiny office.

The rain’s intensity was starting to wear off as she stepped outside. Sunshine peered through an open window of clouds, and her foot clapped with the puddles on the ground as she headed towards her favorite sandwich shop, Montagu’s Munches. 

When she went into the shop, the smell of bread welcomed her with open arms. The place looked the same as it did when she was a little girl; washed-out brick plastered one section of the building, and vibrant forest green paint covered the rest. Black booths were installed on the left side of the room, and high-top tables were sprawled everywhere. White and grey tiles covered the floor, and old antique pictures of the deceased owner hung on the walls. She smiled to herself. It was good to know that some things did not change. 

Chloe got her usual: the chicken-avocado sandwich with cheddar cheese, toasted of course. She wasn’t crazy, after all. Her mouth closed on the sandwich; the avocado was smooth on her tongue and contrasted well with the rich flavor of the seasoned chicken. She sighed with pleasure. Knowing that she would have her sandwich, Chloe had faith that today was going to be a great day. Plus, the weather was also becoming nice. The sun ruled the sky at this point in the day and looked at her in earnest. As she walked towards the building, she glanced over at the park. Chloe backtracked. Luka was there, strumming his guitar, case open for donations.

Had he been playing here this whole time? No wonder Chloe hadn’t seen him in the past couple of months. As cynical as she is towards people, she misses his presence ever so slightly. Luka, in some aspect, brought a little life to her otherwise dead world. Chloe looked at her wrist; it was 12: 35 pm. She needed to be back in ten minutes. Whatever, she thought. I’m going to enjoy my lunch break. 

Chloe entered the park and sat strategically, close enough to the musician where she could hear him, but far enough so that he didn’t notice her.  As she sat in silence eating her sandwich, she also made it a point not to look him in the eye. The last time we interacted, he read me like an open book, she thought with an unpleasant feeling. I don’t like that.

Luka plucked each string with a satisfying longevity. The instrumental was something that she would hear at Celtic weddings that her mother would bring her to. Each note had a subtle impact, but it was enough to culminate into something much bigger, larger. In Chloe’s opinion, the music selection that he arranged was perfect for the season. Though the trees were still bare, a rebirth occurred throughout the park; weeds began to sprout, squirrels scampered throughout the park, and mounds of dirt covered the seeds that were buried underneath. The music Luka played was music that was so simple that she could probably do it herself. Yet, it sounded so unique when he did it, like he was conveying a secret language that Chloe couldn’t, but wanted to understand.

Chloe internally shook her head. What am I doing? Why am I so fascinated with this man? She turned back to her sandwich, only to find that she had one more bite before she was finished. Damn. Slowly, Chloe took the last of her sandwich, forcibly shoved it in her mouth, and got up. It was upsetting; she wanted to sit there in silence for the rest of the afternoon, hearing him play. Not staring into a computer until her eyes fall out, and reviewing employee reports. She huffed out an exhausted sigh and was about to walk away when someone called her name.

“Chloe!”

She turned out. Luka was looking right at her. “Are you on your lunch break?”

Chloe looked at him, confused. “Yes, why?”

Luka smiled. “Have a good day!”

Her eyes slightly widened with shock. But before he could read her more, she spun on her heel and turned away. “You too!” she called from behind, as she sped away, heat filling her cheeks. 

Chloe got back to the office in due time, only a few minutes late. Her mind felt a little scattered. Why am I reacting like this? she thought to herself. I barely know the guy. Is this how it is going to be every time someone wishes me a good day? Chloe flopped on the chair, exhausted by her mind’s shenanigans. Her mind wandered back to his bright smile and the sincerity in his statement. She scoffed lightly, a ghost of a smile appearing. No one ever wished me a good day. Her eyes wandered over to the paperwork that had piled up a little since she left. She sighed loudly in exasperation. She needed to get her work done.

Her focus was unbroken from afternoon to evening. By the time Chloe was supposed to get out, she had all of her paperwork done and a ton of emails to send. Her eyes strained from the glaring light of her laptop, her joints stiff as she typed. At this rate, she would need glasses and a diagnosis of arthritis. Suddenly, her phone buzzed. Her eyes retracted from the computer, staring at the notification. It was a message from an unknown number. Chloe picked up her phone and looked at the message. It said:

Yo, you wanna go out? If yes, we’ll meet at the park at 3 pm.

Chloe rolled her eyes. Wrong number, she thought as she declined the person’s offer and deleted the number.

It was dark outside when she left the company building. Instead of taking the usual route back home, she decided to walk around and sightsee. Ever since going back to her hometown, she has never had the opportunity to explore the new shops that have appeared door to door and the tremendous development of other businesses. Warm light emitted through the window glasses of restaurants, and wind chimes danced in the wind as she walked by a nearby glass-blowing shop. The city almost seemed magical in the evening. While it was still as busy as it was in the day, there was a sense of romance in the air that possessed many happy couples as they walked the street. Chloe stirred in confusion when she caught onto this ongoing trend. People are never this happy in New York, she thought. Knife attacks are more common. With a scoff, she began to walk briskly, away from the feeling that remained unknown to her to this day.

Chloe continued until she stumbled upon a T-shirt store. But, she quickly realized that it was not just a T-shirt shop; they sold bracelets, games, figurines, and—a guitar?! Chloe did a double-take. Inside, there was a singular guitar sitting on a stand. It was jet black, and the phosphor bronze strings looked like they had lasted a while. But it was no ordinary guitar—it was Jagged Stone’s first guitar! It even had his initials carved out at the side. What is that doing in there? And for thirty euros? Are they crazy?!

Chloe has always been a Jagged Stone fan: when she was in high school, she owned his entire collection of albums, and because he was good friends with her dad, she attended his concerts for free. What a life that was, she thought woefully. But, the opportunity could not go to waste—she had to buy this! Quickly, she entered the store. It smelled of fresh pine, and no one was currently at the front. As she walked around the store silently, she glimpsed a silver bell by the register. She walked over to the L-shaped counter and rang the bell. As she waited, she noticed a multitude of crystals stood out on display. A sapphire crystal that stuck out in jagged edges caught her eye, and she bent over to look at it. It was around 3.50 euros, nothing too expensive. The blue contrasted dully in the light, but the white speckles glittered. Chloe couldn’t help but look at it in awe.

“Hi! Can I help you with anything?” a female voice said. 

Chloe yelped and shot straight up. God, I did not see her! She was a stout, curvy woman with pale skin and long, grey hair that braided down her back. Her eyes were a deep blue, and she sported red lipstick. The woman chuckled amusingly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” 

Chloe waved a hand. “It’s no big deal, I was just surprised. But, I would like to buy that guitar out by the window—”

A voice called from the back. “Mom! Where did my guitar go?”

The woman looked back with unease. “Nowhere, son, I bet you left it on the boat!”

“I always bring it with me to work!” 

The mother turned around, hands on her hips. She shouted, “I don’t think you did, sweetie! Now, do go home now, will you?”

She whirled around back to Chloe, a pleasant smile plastered on her face. “Let's go get that guitar,” she said. 

The woman walked away from the front desk, eager to make the sale. Chloe could hear footsteps approaching the front, and her stomach turned with unease. As the woman was taking the guitar down from the stand, the curtain flung open. Luka stepped out to the front, catching his mother red-handed.

“Mom, are you selling my guitar?!” he said, a hint of anger in his tone. 

The woman looked back at him with a pointed look. “No, honey. I was…merely displaying it, that’s all. But, this young lady—” she said, pointing to Chloe— “wanted to buy it.” 

Luka moved his gaze over to Chloe, who currently felt very awkward in the situation she was in. Who would sell something without the owner’s permission? He looked at Chloe pleadingly, his eyes filled with concern. It was like seeing a reflection of herself, lost in the attachment of material goods when nothing of fabrication could be cultivated. Convincing to a point where she concluded that she could not buy this. Hesitantly, she said, “Ma’am, actually, I…changed my mind.” 

The woman looked at her sharply. “I thought you were interested.”

“I guess…I lost interest now?” God, this wasn’t going well. Chloe glanced over at the crystals. An idea occurred to her; she pointed to the sapphire rock, saying, “I saw that really pretty rock just a minute ago, and I think I would much rather buy that.” The woman looked at her suspiciously, then sighed. “Alright, I’ll put the guitar away.” She glared at Luka, then spun on her heel and entered the back room, holding the guitar with both of her hands. Luka sighed with relief. “So…what rock did you want, Chloe?”

She reeled back slightly with shock. Chloe did not think that he would remember her name. “I would like that blue rock to the right, with the mini crystals at the bottom,” she said, pointing to it. Luka nodded, opened the case, and got the rock. Then, he rang it up. “3.50 is your total,” His eyes flickered towards her. “Did you want anything else?” 

Chloe pondered. “No, that will be it.” She fetched money from her purse and exchanged it for the item. He put the crystal carefully in a paper bag and handed it to her. “Have a good evening,” he said, with a pleasing smile. Quietly, she grabbed the bag and was about to turn around when she stumbled. “Good evening to you, too, Luka.” He chuckled a little at the delivery, amusement in his eyes. Heat climbed through her cheeks, and she rushed out. God, that was embarrassing, she thought. Now I hope I don’t run into him again.

Chapter Text

The meeting started at 10:15 am. 

Adrien stood at the front of the room. He looked professional head to toe, with his crisp white shirt omitting no wrinkles and his black pants form-fitting. His hair was combed to a tea, and his eyes were focused. 

Chloe’s eyes glanced around the room. The women looked at him longingly, unaware of anything else. Too bad he’s married to someone else , she thought. It was not like they could woo him anyway; they weren’t very competent or sensually appealing people. 

Adrien glanced over at the women. His eyes were transparent as glass, and she could tell he wanted to finish this meeting quickly. He cleared his throat, garnering the attention of the room. “I wanted to have this meeting because I feel like it would be important for me to relay this information to you all personally,” he said, glancing around the room. “I have been discussing this with the marketing department, so they already know this news. But next month, we will start producing a new perfume line.”

The board responded with excitement. “This is fantastic!”

“Our revenue regarding perfume is higher than the combined revenue of shoes and bags!”

“Bonuses for everyone!”

But Chloe only reeled back in shock. “Mr. Agreste, if I may inquire, you said you talked to marketing about this, correct?”

“Yes, I did. Why are you asking?”

“Because it seems as if the marketing branch knows about this, then they must be beginning to make advertisements?”

Adrien paused and contemplated his answer. Finally, he said, “Yes, they are.”

The meeting room went silent with dread for a minute. Then, the room went into an uproar. “What about supplies, Mr. Agreste?!” one supervisor yelled. “There is no way we can get shipments here in that amount of time.”

“I will cover express delivery fees,” Adrien sighed. “There is no need to worry.”

“But there is no way we can get everything set and our employees on track with the hours we work.”

“That is why I recommend you stay at the office for overtime,” Adrien stated. 

“But I have a family!”

“Yeah, there is no way I can do that!”

“Besides, overtime is shit anyway—”

“Enough!” Adrien shouted, slamming his palm on the table.

Everyone immediately went quiet. “It will only be for a month, so deal with it,” he gritted. “Also, if everyone puts in the work and we get 120,000 bottles sold in six months, I will be providing generous bonuses to all of you.”

The latter statement pleased all of the employees. Adrien sighed with relief. “Meeting dismissed.”

When the meeting was over, Chloe followed Adrien down the hall towards his office. As much as she didn’t want to see him, Chloe felt like she needed answers from her employer’s rash decision. Adrien sensed someone was behind him, and he turned around. He let out a light scoff when he saw her and his right eyebrow quirked. “Why are you following me?”

“Why are you notifying our supervisors so last minute?” she said in a hard voice. 

Adrien looked at her, chin tilted a little. “Why are you questioning my executive decisions?” he said in a forced light tone, “Shouldn’t you be getting back to work?” Chloe reeled back, fists clenching her sides as Adrien turned around to face her. He had a pleasant smile, yet it looked like he wanted to kill her. But he can’t take me down that easily, Chloe thought. “Also, would you refrain from causing chaos everywhere you go?” Adrien said in a passive-aggressive tone. “That would be a nice treat.” Adrien then walked past her, striding back to his office, and ready to unlock the door to the printing room. God, it is so easy to tackle him from behind, she thought to herself, but that felt like an easy way to get fired. 

“You know,” she continued, “I am beginning to think that you are trying to get me fired.”

He whirled around with a surprised look on his face. Chloe slapped herself mentally. You just have to be blunt, don’t you?

Seeing her grimaced expression after, Adrien chuckled with little amusement. “Think of it as a test,” he said as he entered the office, leaving Chloe stumped with his last words. 

Chloe pondered over those words as she paced around her office. What did he mean by a test? The ceiling stared at her, doing its best to hold her numbing concentration. I wish he just told me things straight up instead of making implications and engaging in other kinds of cryptic behavior, she thought with frustration. But it was something that she was used to. After all, he’s always been the type to be indirect and mask his emotions.

Chloe recalled a memory when her family and Adrien’s family all went to the beach. It was a hot, dry, sunny day. They were around six or seven, and they were building a sandcastle. Trying to, at least. The sand was loose as it ran through their fingers; it was nearly impossible to construct something. Hours passed, and both kids were red from being sunburnt. The castle was not going to Chloe’s plan, and out of frustration, she kicked the pile of sand hard. She continued to stomp around the castle until she looked back at Adrien. His green eyes went wide, and he looked like he was on the verge of tears. Chloe stopped abruptly and remembered wanting to apologize when Gabriel stopped her. “It wasn’t that great,” he said coldly. “I bet you understand, Adrien?”

Adrien looked down at the destroyed sandcastle. He and Chloe worked hard on it and didn’t believe the efforts were for naught. Perfection doesn’t come around for the first time. Anger coursed through his eyes before he painted a placid smile toward Gabriel. “Yes, father. It’s just a sandcastle,” he said tensely. 

The way he said that last sentence always disturbed Chloe, and his anger from then on was always restrained. Even when Chloe would throw herself on him during their years in high school, he only stiffened uncomfortably. Maybe he was placed under a curse by his father. Or maybe I am over-analyzing, and he has always been too much of a goody-two-shoes, she thought with annoyance. She hated people like that. Chloe sighed and forced herself to concentrate as time passed by.

The evening rolled around when the work phone rang loudly. Chloe picked it up and heard a crackling white noise on the other line. “Hello?”

“Ms. Bourgeois, someone left the refrigerator off. Should I turn it on?”

This isn’t good , Chloe thought. “How long has it been left on?”

The other line paused for a minute. “About two hours, ma’am.”

Chloe seethed with anger. If the perfume gets spoiled, the higher-ups won’t like it. Was someone trying to get her fired? 

“Should I turn it on?”

Chloe pinched her nose in frustration. “No, leave it on,” she said sarcastically. 

“Really?”

“No, dumbass! The perfume needs time to settle!”

“...Okay.”

“Also, find out who turned it off. I would like to chat with them.”

The phone clicked off. Chloe straightened up. Who would turn off the refrigerator?

Fifteen minutes later, someone opens the door. Chloe looks up, and she sees Alya. Despite her unfavorable opinion, she was shocked, considering her expertise in this line of work.

“Why did you turn off the refrigerator?”

“...”

“Well?”

Alya took a deep breath. “I think you know that perfume needs to be cold to settle, right?”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Of course I do.”

“Well, I checked the perfume earlier today, and it's already settled. Besides, it's being moved to a different storage room any minute. There’s no point in wasting energy in the refrigerator, so I turned it off.”

Chloe clicked her tongue in annoyance. Smart ass. “Did you check the other contents? Were they all settled?”

“Well, I did a brief overview—”

“Did you even bother to consider telling me about this first?” Chloe interrupted. “I’m your superior; I need to know about these things.”

Alya straightened up with defiance. “Well, I am the general manager, and technically, anything lab-related doesn’t need clearance from higher-ups.”

“I don’t think that is how it works, Alya,” Chloe spat out. “You can’t just do whatever you want. Chain of command must be established, and since you are manipulating production without any authorization, that is a breach of command.”

She walked from her desk over to Alya, leaning in close. 

Chloe smiled triumphantly. “I could write you up for insubordination, you know.”

Alya’s eyes flared. “You bitch—”

“I wouldn’t advise digging a deeper grave for yourself, Mrs. Cesaire. Just next time, let me grant authorization.”

Chloe leaned away, crossing her arms with a smug look. She won. 

“Whatever,” Alya scoffed as she slammed the door behind her.

“You need to wear something more appropriate.”

Chloe looked away from her clipboard. Alya was looking up and down, judgmental. “Legs should not be exposed in the manufacturing room. You could get a chemical burn.”

Although Chloe knew Alya was giving her helpful advice, she couldn’t help but be irked by the way she said it. Besides, Chloe liked her outfit today; she never knew that a brown pencil skirt could work well with a turtleneck. 

Chloe scoffed. “I don’t think it will be a big deal.”

Alya gritted her teeth. “I’m trying to help you, dimwit. Anyone with brains wouldn’t need to be reminded.”

With that last comment, Alya turned around and got back to work. Chloe seethed as Alya looked back with triumph in her eyes. She won today. 

The next day, Chloe got a call from Adrien Agreste. Someone filed a complaint the other day regarding her attire. “I would suggest you pay attention to what you are wearing at work, Chloe,” Adrien said over the phone. “Pencil skirts and scooped shirts aren’t particularly appropriate for working with chemicals. I will be issuing points, and if I hear any more employee complaints, I will have a conversation with you in person. Understood?”

Holding her temper with little restraint, Chloe grinned over the phone. “Yes, Mr. Agreste.” After the line clicked, Chloe slammed down the phone. She was outraged by this complaint. There was only one person who would file a complaint: Alya. Fists clenched tightly on the desk. No one tries to fuck me over and get away with it. 

The day after, she walked into the production room. Chloe was wearing heels, a short brown skirt, and a low-cut red blouse with tiny yellow flowers. Her honey blonde hair was loose in soft curls, and the red lipstick created a bold look complementary to the shirt. Her clipboard was secure in her hands, and as she walked around, Alya scoffed in disbelief. “Do you ever listen to anyone?”

Chloe turned around. “Not to people who have no right to boss me around,” she said cheekily. 

Alya looked at her incredulously. “Are you kidding? Is this because I reported you to the executives?”

“I am allowed to do whatever I want. And after I let you off that one time—”

“That was under my jurisdiction! What you were wearing was violating the dress code!”

Chloe smirked with displeasure. “Maybe you're just jealous that I have better style than you,” Chloe said, pointing at Alya’s outfit. “Plaid doesn’t suit you.”

Alya seethed. “Are we really going this low? Your conduct towards your employees is appalling.”

“Green isn’t a good look for you either,” Chloe taunted. 

“I would have been a better supervisor than you, and we both know that!”

Chloe struck a nerve. Good. “Now we are getting to the root of the problem.”

Alya faltered.

“I went through the same interview process as you did, and you have the audacity to—”

“Shut up! Your mom practically bribed the higher-ups to get you a job! You didn’t do shit!”

Chloe’s eyes narrowed. “If that was the case, which it wasn’t, it’s not my fault that I have money and you don’t—”

In one, singular motion, Alya’s palm met Chloe’s cheek with a hard slap. Taken aback, she put a hand to her cheek. Her hand trembled with a mixture of shock and anger. Chloe could not believe someone would slap her. This bitch is asking for it. The next moments were a blur. All she knew was that her hands gripped Alya’s hair, and they ended up on the floor fighting. It was a repeating motion of flailing hands and biting. Chloe’s primal instincts kicked in; she slapped, kicked, and clawed. Blood streaked her face, and she was bruised from the tailbone up as they tussled around the manufacturing room. But I’m winning, she thought. The door banged open; Chloe could only assume that one of her employees had called security, for the two women were ripped off of each other. Her body reeled from the rush of exhilaration she felt. The anger that she had pent up against Alya, her mother, and the universe flowed out of her being and left her in a state of relaxation. It was the best feeling in the world. 

But it didn’t last long, because she knew what was going to happen. Dread crept through her body, and she began to tune out from the world. It came in little doses, slowly penetrating her brain as she walked to the chair’s office. As she entered, the world grew fuzzy, further latching away from her body, leaving the physical world in a ghostly state. She didn’t remember everything Adrien was shouting at the pair, only that Alya got suspended and she was to be fired. The tipping point occurred at that point. Everything else became a blur, and she remembered nothing about going to the medic and packing her bags.

It was cold and dark when Chloe arrived at the The Snooze’s pub. It was jampacked that night, as the bell that rang overhead the door was overwhelmed with sounds of sports games and loud drunken chatter. Pool tournaments occurred on the scene, and live music blared in the building. The chaos was no surprise, however. Friday nights were usually busy, a day to unwind after a hectic week of a nine-to-five job. A job Chloe just lost. 

She picked ale from the tap as her ailment and reliever. She was never the type to like bitter things, but this was their strongest item on the drink menu. There needed to be some distortion of reality after the shit that occurred today. The fuzz creeped in again, and it was pleasurable and soothing. Such discovery of this temptation allowed her to feel something that she would never feel while sober. A goofy grin spread across her face as she danced on tables, danced with the men, and gambled all the money in her wallet. It was the happiest she had felt, yet nothing lasted long. So the woman drank and drank, the world blinking in spurts of black. By the time she hit the fourth bottle, black was all she could see as her head thudded on the counter, drink half full. 

“Excuse me, are you Chloe Bourgeois?”

Chloe looked up, her eyes desperately striving to pull away from exhaustion. The bar was less busy than before, and rain dripped from the window as she looked at the stranger next to her. A thin, tanned woman looked at her with viper-green eyes. Long, chestnut brown hair was straightened, and her outfit was skimpy. Though she was alarmed that someone knew who she was, Chloe didn’t have the energy to run away. “Yes,” she gurgled. “What’s it to you?”

The woman smiled at her. Chloe immediately felt a sense of distrust in the air. “Oh, well, I was wondering if you were still good friends with Adrien Agreste.”

God, she could never escape from that man. “No, we don’t talk. He hates my guts.” Though a part of me wished he didn’t , a tiny voice said in her heart. That feeling was quickly shoved down; it wasn’t worth it to be wishing such things. 

“That’s too bad,” the woman said lightly. “I was going to ask you for a favor.”

Chloe wanted this girl to leave her alone. “Ask his cousin Felix, for all I care.”

The woman looked at her with intrigue. “Really?”

“Well, yeah. Whenever I see him at high-class events, he always talks to Adrien. They seem to like each other now.”

“I see," the woman said, noting Chloe's words. The woman stood up gracefully, almost practiced. “Thank you for that information.”

Chloe straightened her posture as the woman walked away. She knew that person, but her mind was too fuzzy to paint a picture. It doesn’t matter anyway. Let me drown myself in false ecstasy for all I care. She popped another bottle and began to drink.

Round two began. The hours that passed felt blurry, and there was numbing pain that accompanied the depressant. It was only flashes that she remembered. A moment of her wildly dancing once more, a moment that was gone. Another moment of her picking a fight with a bartender, a moment that was gone. Her memory was lost, and she couldn’t capture the messages that shot through her brain. Ale spilled all over her shirt at one point, but her senses couldn’t quite detect that. She then was gone again. Lost. 

When she woke from the trance, she was sitting against a brick wall in an alleyway. It was a dirty area, with cigarette butts covering the concrete floor, and rats scurrying to their boxes in retreat. The rain poured and made the hair on her face stick. Suddenly, it was hot, and sweat dripped. It was agonizing, and she put her arms to her chest and heaved. Barf spewed all over her legs, and some trickled down her mouth. It was a relief for a second before she felt the urge to cry. She was a mess: wet head to toe, barf staining and sticking to her legs, mascara trailing down her cheeks, and a sticky mess of ale and barf around her mouth. There was also the matter of not having any friends, family, or a job. The job was what she was the most frustrated about, as she could live without any of the previous. Money was the only ailment, and she was going to make a lot if she stuck around longer. She didn’t even need to work for it; Audrey practically gave her that job, and she fucked everything up, again. 

Why does this happen to me? Is it karma? Tears streamed down her cheeks as she mourned the downfall of her life. What happened to her?

Suddenly, the rain stopped. Chloe looked up, wiping the tears from her face. 

It was an umbrella that loomed over her. A concerned expression was painted on Luka’s face. “Are you okay?”

Chloe immediately felt ashamed. Here he was, seeing her covered in barf and looking like a wet cat. Her eyes averted. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Luka gave her a hard look and took her hand by force. Chloe’s mouth opened in shock. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “Let me take you home. Where do you live?”

She probably shouldn’t leak her address to him. Although Chloe did let him walk her home, it was to the motel. This was different. However, he was right. She did need help getting home. Her body slumped like jelly, and she couldn’t move voluntarily. And, deep down, she had the feeling that he wouldn’t harm her. It was a risky decision, but she could only hope. “Okay, lead me home,” she slurred. Luka looked at her gently and pulled her up. Chloe staggered a little, smacking into his chest from the force of his pull. It was embarrassing, but at least she didn't eat concrete. After steadying herself, Luka wrapped an arm around her waist. She would have been uncomfortable if she wasn’t in such a unkept, vulnerable state. “Don’t want you to fall,” he said casually. 

It was a small gesture of kindness, and she knew she didn't deserve it. He could have walked past, and she could have continued to wallow in pity. Cruel people only deserved cruel punishment. But Chloe couldn't help but smile to herself as both began to walk back to her house.

Chapter Text

“Wait! Where is my wallet?”

Both Chloe and Luka stopped at the end of the street. Knowingly, Luka unhooked his arm from her waist, and she fumbled with her pockets. As she patted herself down, fear grew inside her. This is great, she thought sarcastically. My wallet has my credit card and my apartment key. What if someone stole it while I was unconscious?  She looked up at the sky, tears brimming at the surface of her eyes. The universe looked at her with disdain today, and she couldn’t do anything about it. 

“Did you find it?” Luka questioned. 

“No,” she croaked, losing hope with every passing second. She wanted to cry, but Luka was beside her, and it would be embarrassing if he saw her break down right down. She bit her bottom lip, holding it in. Suddenly, her hand felt something solid in her back pocket. With fleeting hope, she pulled it out quickly. Lo and behold, it was her wallet! Chloe let out a sigh of relief and shook the wallet in front of him with a soft chuckle.  

“Oh, you found it!” Luka said with a relieved tone. “That wouldn’t be good if someone stole it.”

“No kidding,” Chloe said. “If that happened though, I would probably be sober and ready to kick their ass.”

Luka and Chloe burst out laughing at that comment. “I could, though!” Chloe boasted, as they both laughed even more in the quiet, low-lit street. 

The wind was getting a little stronger, and the rain was beginning to pelt down harder. “Alright, let's get going,” Luka said, still exerting a breath of laughter in his words. “Can you walk by yourself?”

Chloe’s eyes furrowed in concentration. She didn’t know what to say; could she, or could she not? She liked to think that she could. Carefully, she took one step and wobbled. Her ankle gave out, and she crashed onto the concrete. Pain seared through her knee, and there was blood trickling down her hand from the sharp gravel on the road. It was hard to react to it, as part of her wanted to cry, and part of her couldn’t feel anything. With a look of panic, Luka quickly put down the umbrella and picked her up by the upper arm. Chloe may have been conscious, but her thoughts, perceptions, and bodily control were out of the room momentarily. It was interesting to learn what alcohol can do to the body, especially in large quantities. He hooked his arm around her waist, steadying her, and picked up the umbrella that had been lying on the ground. “I guess not,” he said quietly to himself. They walked in silence from then on.

When they got to the apartment complex, Chloe had an easier time walking by herself; however, he always kept one hand on her forearm and the other gently on her back. They bypassed the lady at the front desk, nails clacking on computer keys, and headed down the hallway towards the elevator. Luka loosened his grip on her arm and pressed the button. The hallway was silent, for only the whir of the elevator echoed. Chloe could faintly hear the sound of lovemaking from the room next to it, and she couldn’t help but feel a familiar feeling of nausea. But both said nothing as they waited for the elevator, rode it up, and got to her place of stay. 

She had to admit, her apartment was pretty messy. Though she was an organized person overall, the stress of work left her little time to do chores. An unfinished batch of laundry sat on the couch, dishes piled by the sink, and she could only imagine what her bathroom looked like. A mixture of disgust and shame filled her body as she looked around, knowing that someone else was in her apartment and it wasn’t clean. 

Chloe turned around with a wan smile. “Thank you for the help. I think I’ll be okay from here, though—” 

The rest of the words were stuck in her throat, and she felt herself heave. All of a sudden, vomit erupted from her mouth. Orange spewed onto the floor, splatting at impact, and got onto Luka’s shoes. This would have been very shameful if she hadn’t felt more vomit coming up her throat. Quickly, she covered her mouth and rushed to the bathroom. 

Her imagination was right about the bathroom: it was messy. Blow dryers sat on the floor, and her makeup was sprawled everywhere. On her way, she knocked over concealer and a couple of tubes containing lip tint. It may be a hassle to clean up in the future, but it didn’t matter now. Chloe got to the toilet, knelt, and retched. 

It was terrible. She was sweating, shaking, and an awful mess. Her hair got tangled in with some of the contents, and the smell permeated the air. The sour taste in her mouth made her retch, and her throat felt awfully dry. Is this what the aftereffects of intoxication feel like? The pleasure from a couple of hours ago left while misery hit her like a freight train in this moment, and she deserved it. All of it. 

The pain was unbearable, and tears threatened to fall. She couldn’t restrain the suffering that consumed her soul, her body, and her life. It was a sinking feeling that left her hollow, an empty shell of the person that she used to be.

What was she now?

Just then, she felt gentle hands soothingly run through her scalp and pull her hair back. It was like morning came, a rising sun that granted another day full of substance. Life. The gesture of kindness met her breaking point, and she began to cry. “I’m right here to help you,” he said with comfort. “Take your time.”

The minutes felt like years as she continued to puke. Her energy was being drained slowly but effectively, and by the time she gagged for the final time, her stomach hurt from the amount of force. Chloe stood still by the toilet, Luka continuing to hold her hair back. Her breathing came out shallow, and her fists were white. 

“I think I’m done,” Chloe whispered shakily. She distanced herself from the toilet and silently got up with Luka’s help. “Let's get you some water,” he said. Chloe nodded in agreement; her mouth tasted like bile. Slowly, they shuffled out of the bathroom and went to her bed. 

“I can get the water,” Chloe said hoarsely as she sat on the edge of her bed. 

“No, you need to rest,” Luka said firmly. “I can get it.”

She was in no mood to be stubborn. With a sigh, she climbed into bed, pulling the covers over her. “Then can you also get me a rag while you are at it?” Chloe said with a fatigued tone. “My face feels sticky.”

Luka smiled softly. “Sure.” 

After he left the room, Chloe checked her phone. It was currently 3:46 am, much too late for her liking. I have to work tomorrow—oh right , she thought. I’m fired . 

With this thought in mind, she was about to enter into her third meltdown of the night. Normally, she wasn’t a person who cried often. But these past twenty-four hours had been a rollercoaster, and not a fun one at that. Thinking about her termination from the company made her reminisce about her conduct towards not just Alya but also her co-workers. Unprofessional, reeking of entitlement, petty, and manipulative. Aspects of herself that she thought were left behind when she grew older. I guess they continue to be a part of me to this day . 

“Hey, Chloe, I got your water—” Luka stopped his sentence short when he saw tears clouding her vision. The room was quiet for half a minute before Chloe began to sob uncontrollably. 

“I just don’t understand what is wrong with me!” Chloe laughed uncomfortably as Luka handed her the water. She used her palm to push the tears away from her face. “Why can’t I stop crying?”

Luka sat by her bedside. He looked at her intently, emotions of empathy and understanding coursing through his eyes. “It’s normal to cry,” he said, hushed. “It’s just another way to express emotions. Everyone does it.”

Chloe’s brows wrinkled in frustration. “I know, but it doesn’t make it less embarrassing,” she said. “Especially in front of a stranger.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he chuckled slightly. He offered the rag to Chloe, who took it and wiped her face off. Chunks fell from her face, and the sticky feeling around the rim of her mouth dissipated. “God, I hate vomit,” she said, putting the rag to the side. 

Silence entered the room once more. When she stopped crying, she stood up straight. “You should probably go,” Chloe said. “It’s late.”

“Are you sure? What if you throw up again?”

“I guess I choke on my puke and die,” Chloe said jokingly. 

Luka gave her a hard stare. 

“I was just kidding. I’ll call the ambulance if that even happens.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief. “Good.”

“Okay, now that we have that settled, you should go,” Chloe said, arms crossed. “Your mom might get worried that her little boy is out so late.”

“Don’t tease me,” Luka said with a grin. “I’m probably about the same age as you.”

“Really? You look quite young.”

“As you do.”

“Don’t flatter me; I know I look twenty years older than the average woman in her twenties.”

As they continued to tease, minutes passed, and Chloe finally convinced Luka to head home. 

“Are you sure you're okay?” Luka asked for the fourth time. “What if you vomit in your sleep?”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “I already told you, I don’t think that will happen anytime soon,” she said sluggishly. “Besides, it is late. You need sleep, and my couch is not a comfortable place to sleep on.” 

Luka looks at her with a concerned look before sighing, “Fine. I’ll leave.” 

The door clicked shut. Chloe immediately regretted not saying thank you. He helped her a lot tonight in more ways than one: first, he helped her home and made sure she didn’t die. Sure, that was the bare minimum, and it was something that Chloe would do for anyone (except for Alya). However, if he knew who she was, she doubted he would help her in any way. Chloe turned to her side. The darkness engulfed both her and the room, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite looking disgusting and feeling gross, she was home safe and sound. Before she could think about what the day would bring her tomorrow, she drifted off to sleep. And she smiled a little to herself. 

The peeks of sunlight welcomed her as she got up this morning. Her eyes drifted over to her alarm clock; currently, it was late mid-afternoon. Chloe groaned in exhaustion and rubbed her temples. Last night was indeed wild, and it was not a surprise that she couldn’t remember much. But what she did remember was that she puked (a lot) and that Luka helped her home. Both of these known facts made her grimace, and Chloe could only try to move on from there. 

Though she felt gross right now, Chloe did not feel like getting pretty or going pity shopping. Instead, she walked into the main room and sank into the old green couch littered with laundry. Chloe gazed at the giant billboard in front of her window. The advertisements for the new Gabriel perfume line were now up and broadcast for everyone in Paris to see. Chloe chuckled without amusement when she stared at the disorganized pile of clothes. Silently, she began to fold. If things were done differently…

It had been five weeks since she became unemployed. 

Chloe rarely left the house, only making pit stops at the grocery store and occasionally meeting up with people for interviews. Finding a job, a sustainable one at least, was harder than it looks; interview questions were tough to answer, putting a resume together was a first, and it began to get harder to swallow rejection from companies. Bills began to pile up, and money grew tight. It was going to be difficult to pay for this month's rent. As she hung up the phone from her last job interview regarding her selection, she sat down at the bar counter of the kitchen, her face buried in her hands. She wanted to cry. 

Her phone began to ring.

Chloe sluggishly got up from her seat and went over to the phone. She looked at the caller listed: Audrey. She was half-terrified of what she would say and tempted to roll her eyes. Chloe answered the call, and before she could utter a word, a haughty voice sounded through the phone. “Clara, darling, how come I just heard news that you got fired five weeks ago?” 

Chloe seethed, both at the fact that she didn’t remember her name and at this touchy subject at hand. “How did you know?”

“The Agreste family told me. Duh, Chlorina! You know how much I used to chat with Gabriel, so it shouldn’t be a surprise to you.”

Chloe smiled over at the phone, masking her discomfort. “Yeah, I guess you're right, Audrey.”

“What a shame this is. Clara, dear, how is it that you can’t hold a job for at least a year? Adrien said that you lost your head at work. Gosh, it’s always something to do with a ‘temper’. Have you ever thought of ‘changing your temperament’? You don’t have the luxury of owning a world-renowned fashion company, so you can’t just fire people left and right. But I can because I do own a world-renowned fashion company!” Audrey laughs joyously, prouning over her successes. “Money talks, dear.”

Chloe wanted to hang up. “I…I know,” she said. “But I am currently looking for a job right now.”

Audrey sighed. “And really, I don’t care.” 

 Chloe bit her tongue. She didn’t want to ask her for money. “Mom—I mean—Audrey, would you mind covering this month's rent?”

Silence was emitted from the phone. “And why is that, dear?” Audrey asked with inquiry. 

“I don’t have enough money.”

Audrey clicked her tongue in disdain. “Well, what a shame. This would not have happened if you hadn’t lost your job. I don’t believe in charity either—”

“I am your daughter,” Chloe hissed over the phone.

“Whether you are my daughter or not doesn’t matter,” Audrey begins. “I offered you a job on a silver platter, and you threw it all away. For what? Five minutes of satisfaction?”

Chloe’s breath hitched. “Please, mom, don’t leave me like this—” 

“You're nothing to me if you can’t even succeed in any way, shape, or form,” Audrey continued, every word laced with venom. “I usually don’t even invest in people who are broken toys like yourself. You may have been the exception because I was feeling generous the last time we spoke, but don’t think you’re any more special than that Dupain-Cheng girl. At least she returns what she owes.”

Chloe stayed silent, biting her tongue. “Well, I must bid you farewell, Chlorina,” Audrey said in a lighter tone. “Don’t call me until you can return what you owe.”

The phone clicked. Chloe set the phone down slowly, ferocity burning in her eyes. A broken toy is all I am to her , she thought to herself. In a fit of rage, Chloe swept her arm across the kitchen table, sending everything crashing to the floor. Glass broke, and metal pots clanked against the floor, spewing leftover rice made yesterday. “That no good bitch!” Chloe cried out. “She dares to call me an investment! A broken toy not worth her time. Well, I’ll show her I can be successful without her! I’ll make her eat her words! I’ll…” 

She looked at the messy floor. The fire left her eyes, and an overwhelming feeling of sadness took over. “Look at me,” Chloe said to no one. “I can’t even control my temper.” She sank to the floor in the cold kitchen, legs curled to her torso. The whole world turned grey and sorrowful as Chloe sat there alone, crying her eyes out. 

The next day, Chloe decided to go pity shopping. It had been a while since Chloe had done this kind of excursion. The last time she did was when her mom traveled back to Paris for the Agreste runaway show when she was a teen. Usually, Chloe would go to high-end stores to shop because, as the philosophy goes, you pay for quality. However, Chloe didn’t have a lot of money to spare. So, she looked up the nearest thrift store in Paris, Pick-And-Find, and headed over there. 

When she entered the building, it was like she had stepped into a warehouse. Multiple racks of clothing dominated the aisles, and everything was sorted into its respective category. Towards the entrance, t-shirts and sweaters for the men; to the back left corner, pants, shorts, and linens for men; to the back right corner, linens, pants, shorts, and skirts for women; in the middle of the department store, dresses for women resided; and finally, at the front right corner, t-shirts and sweaters for women were to be found there. It was so organized, yet Chloe couldn’t help but feel like she was in a messy closet as she sifted through clothing. As a teen, she looked at these types of stores with disdain. It felt shabby to her standards, and hand-me-down clothing always rubbed her the wrong way. However, as an adult, it was surprisingly enjoyable. Chloe discovered a different type of beauty that came with thrift stores. There was an element of uncertainty and pleasant surprise when you found something truly special in an array of unique gems of clothing in their own right. Like a person, every stitch and every choice on every piece of clothing was different. Maybe that's what made thrifting both so gratifying and frustrating. 

Chloe was currently carrying a small basket to pile her articles of clothing. Throughout her scavenger hunt, she found a pair of leopard-print leggings, a red high-neck halter top, multiple pairs of jeans, a couple of jean jackets, and a long-sleeve, blue velvet shirt. She was about to go towards the check-out when she spotted a cute, tight-fitting pink long-sleeved shirt. It was super cute and she couldn’t resist getting it. She backtracked to the aisle and was sifting through clothes when she bumped into another woman. Quickly, Chloe pulled back. She came face-to-face with Luka’s mother!

“Sorry, were you getting this?” Luka’s mom said, pointing to the fitted top. 

Chloe waved her hands profusely. “Oh no, don’t worry about it! I was looking for something else, haha…”

The lady squinted through her red-rimmed glasses. Her eyes lit up in delight. “Oh, you were the missus who wanted the guitar! Chloe, was it?”

Chloe blinked. “Yeah, that’s me…”

“What are you doing here?”

Chloe thought this was a weird question to ask, but quickly brushed this thought aside. She’s probably a sad old lady who wants someone to chat with, she thought. Be nice. 

“Oh, well, I’m looking for some nice clothing for my next job interview,” Chloe said.  

“Looking for a job, eh?” the lady said, crossing her arms. “Tough out there ain’t it…”

Chloe nodded. “Yeah…”

The two women stood in awkward silence. “You know, if you ever need a job, we are always looking for new employees at our shop.” Luka’s mom started, pulling out a little notepad and a red pen. Then, she scribbled down her number, tore it off, and held it out to Chloe. “Call or text this number if you're interested,” she said, eyes reflective of Chloe’s own. They were clear as a summer sky; although they were in stark contrast to Luka’s deep, rich blue eyes, they contained a sense of empathy that remained identical to her son’s. “Thank you,” Chloe said with sincerity.  The lady smiled and patted Chloe’s closed fist. “Well, I’ll bid you good day. Hope you find what you are looking for,” she said.

She bid her farewell, and as she walked away, Chloe noticed that she didn’t write her name down. “Ma’am,” she called. 

The woman turned her way. “What’s your name?” Chloe asked. 

She chuckled to herself. “Silly me. It’s Anarka Couffaine.”

With that, she walked towards the check-out, leaving Chloe pensive about what to do next. 

Interlude

She was running late.

Felix fiddled with his wedding ring as he waited for coffee, a golden band that wrapped around his finger. Though it was pretty, it was not his first choice when he picked out the wedding rings for himself and Kagami. Silver rings would have been nicer. More sentimental, even. 

However, he knew there was no need to wear his ring anymore. 

 A couple of months ago, he sat in court for the first time, officially signing the consensus of their divorce. Felix remembered it like it was yesterday; the stiff atmosphere, the cold eyes that would glance at him often, and the signing of that piece of paper. Ending their union, their string of vows that were supposed to intertwine them for eternity. Until he fucked it all up.

The bell rang above the door. She was here. 

Felix stood up from his chair. She was still breathtaking, even if she was the last person he should be seen around. 

Felix knew he should not have been looking at her that way. Kagami also warned him about staying in touch with her. But he never listened. He continued to talk to her, look at her, touch her, and, later on, commit acts of infidelity while his wife stayed in the dark.

Felix knew he was doomed when he got caught that day in his wedding bed with her. The picture was still painted in his mind: the woman, leaving elusively, as Kagami screamed at him, tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. It was the one time that he saw her that close to crying. She didn’t even cry when he proposed, much less at their wedding. Those eyes were full of life that did not need joyful tears to accommodate; however, the moment she caught him with that woman, they were filled with nothing but sadness and betrayal. 

Kagami left him that night. Felix knew he deserved it. But he could not help his thoughts of that woman, whose sorcery bewitched his body and soul. He could not stop lusting over her, thinking about the way she would enchant him every time he met with her. He thought about their playful conversations, her laugh, and the way their bodies would meld. It was nothing like what he felt for Kagami; it was passionate, fiery, and enticing to indulge in every day. 

It was dangerous. He knew he could never convince himself that he was immune to her lust.

“Felix,” Lila started as she sat down, “I need you to do me a favor.”

Felix looked up. She was a pretty girl: long, chestnut hair flowed down her back, her eyes were cat-like, and her mouth formed a perfect heart. It did not help that she was hard to read, even when they were intimate with each other. 

“State the favor, and maybe I can work something out for you,” Felix said, cautiously. 

Lila hummed. “I need to get a more…stable job. I was wondering if Adrien had any open positions for a personal secretary?”

Felix was taken aback, a small pang of betrayal stabbing him. “He already has a secretary,” he said shortly. 

“Oh,” Lila said, shifting a little. The silence stretched, as Lila averted her eyes, evoking a sense of defeat. Felix felt a little sorry for her; she looked powerless. Damnit , he thought. Now you've fallen into her trap again. 

He sighed heavily. “But I will see what I can do.”

“Thank you—”

“But,” Felix said. “I want something in return.”

“Okay, what can I do?” Lila preened. Her fingers tiptoed to Felix’s knuckles, and she brushed them lightly. “Though I may already have a guess.”

His hand pulled back. “That’s not what I mean,” he said, pink creeping up his neck. Gathering himself, he took off his golden ring, fished out Kagami’s golden ring, and placed both on the table. “If you get the job, I would like you to exchange these for the twin rings.”

“The silver ones that Marinette and Adrien wear?” Lila inquired. 

“Yes, those.”

“Why don’t you ask them yourself?”

Felix sat back, averting his eyes. “I am disowned from the Agreste family, and it's a family heirloom. Adrien would never give them to me if I asked.”

“Why do you need them anyway?” Lila asked. 

His lips thinned. “That is none of your concern.” She doesn’t need to know. 

Lila huffed. “You're too closed off, you know that? But, if that’s what you want, then consider it arranged.”

She got out of her seat. “Thank you for the coffee. I hope to hear from you soon.”

With that, she left the shop. Felix sighed with relief, dread filling his sternum. This was a risky bargain; if he was not careful, Adrien would find out, and it would destroy their relationship permanently. But when there is a will, there is a way, and Felix was determined to get Lila that job. Determined to get those twin rings, to show Kagami he will go to any means to be with her. 

Even if it means teaming up with the woman who ruined his life.

Chapter Text

Zoe Lee woke up at 7 am that morning. 

It was a normal routine. Get up, stretch, and roll the neck three times to get rid of the stiffness. Though exhaustion lined her eyes, she knew today would be like any other day. 

Fantastic!

Zoe walked over to the bedroom next to her. There lay her father, sleeping. His breathing was steady, and his face held composure. She knelt by him and brushed his hair back. 

“Dad,” she called softly to him, hushed. 

He stirred for a minute, opened his eyes, then glanced at Zoe. He smiled wanly. “Good morning, Zoe. Did you get a good night’s sleep?”

“I should be asking you that question,” Zoe chuckled lightly.

“Well, to make you happy, I did get a good night's sleep.” He looked out the window, which was blocked by opaque white curtains. “Zoe, dear, could you open those up?”

Zoe looked back. “Yeah,” she said, getting up, taking the curtains, and yanking them apart. Sunlight spilled into the room, coating the blue blankets with gold and reflecting off the glass doves that rested on his nightstand.

“My, it is a gorgeous day outside,” Andre said quietly. 

Zoe nodded with agreement. “I don’t have to work until noon. Want a cup of tea?”

“How about coffee?”

“No,” Zoe said adamantly. “Remember what the doctor said?”

Andre groaned. “Fine. Do we have time to brew some fine green tea?”

“Yeah, I’ll get some started now.”

Zoe left the room and wound through the hallways to get to the kitchen, which was small and outdated in its appearance. White and black tiles covered the floor, and peeling white paint marked the cabinets. The knobs easily moved as Zoe opened the door to tea supplies. Stacks of cans lined the bottom row, where the teapot and strainer resided above. The pipes that ran through the house also needed some repair; dirt spat out of the faucet when the water turned on.  Zoe grimaced as she waited for the water to turn clean. She knew it had to be fixed. However, money was short, and other things needed to be prioritized. It is okay, for now . Zoe turned the knob off, and set the teapot on the stove. 

Ten minutes later, Zoe was back with two mugs. “Thanks, dear,” Andre said. He grimaced as he rose from bed, receiving his cup. Zoe watched, despair filling her thoughts. “I’m fine,” he said, noticing her reaction. “Just…it just comes with old age, I guess.”

Deep down, Zoe knew that he was lying. But, for his sake, and maybe her own, she smiled. Today was a beautiful day, and everything will be alright. Calm silence filled the room as they sipped their tea, viewing their tiny garden beyond.

“I’m going to work,” she called from the door, fiddling with her keys. “Will you be okay today?”

Andre smiled plainly. “Yeah, I’ll just be taking care of the potager. It needs good pruning.”

“Okay, you go do that.” Zoe patted her dad on the back and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be home around late evening.”

“Raniah will be here at 14:30, right?”

“Yeah,” Zoe said. “Remember to do everything she says, properly,” Zoe said, emphasizing the last word. 

“Yes, sweetie. Now, off to work!”

Zoe regarded him with a wave and shut the door. 

Although it was sweltering outside, Zoe beamed. It was the first day that the sun came out in weeks, and great weather for her bike. The garage door opened, and Rudy, her red beauty, dulled in the sun’s glare. It had been Zoe’s mode of transport since high school, and it was in relatively good shape. Hopefully, it will continue to stay that way. 

She hopped on the bike and rode to work. There was not too much traffic on the way there, which boosted her spirits. Maybe she might make it to work early today. Zoe squealed internally at the thought. 

The job she was going to today was farther away than normal: forty-five minutes from Paris. As she drove by, the buildings began to grow more scarce, and shrubbery began to appear more frequently. Getting closer to her destination, she wound through a quiet street and approached a looming gate. The password was 1456; the door opened. Zoe looked at her watch, and her eyes widened. She groaned. I should have left earlier. 

The parking lot was packed when Zoe pulled in, and it was rather difficult to find a spot. Nevertheless, there was one available, and with a sharp turn, she parked. She looked at the clock. Nine forty-five: she had five minutes. 

The venue, Château de Villette, was grander than she expected. It was a big building, and it looked to have two stories. Ornate carvings decorated the top of the exterior, huge yellow shutters took over the cream stone brick, and she noticed a round, working clock overhead. She found the inside to be even more spectacular. It was like walking into the past; the marble floors were shined and polished, the staircase railing was covered by fine purple velvet, and the main room was low-lit, as gold chandeliers hung. Some may say it is too much, but Zoe thought it was in character to host Adrien Agrestes’ twenty-fifth birthday here. 

He did not need much introduction. As the only child of Gabriel Agreste, an inheritor of a well-renowned fashion company, and the local heartthrob in Paris, Zoe considered him a man who had everything at his disposal. A lucky man, indeed, to also have a rich wife like Marinette Dupain Cheng, an acclaimed fashion designer herself, who can adorn him with a party as luxurious as this. There was a tiny inkling of hope in Zoe’s heart that the two women would bump into each other. However, Marinette was usually floundered by guests, so chances were unlikely. At least Zoe will get a handsome paycheck. 

The party was initially uneventful, to say the least. There was an exception for the raffle around the afternoon, and dinner to follow. However, Zoe kept busy, serving drinks to high-profile celebrities and figures. She almost fainted when she saw Zendaya up close, and resisted the urge to ask for a picture. 

Later in the night, things began to get more interesting. Alcohol was continuously running low, and many rounds had to be made from the catering team. People began to slur their words, slip out mistaken statements, and catch themselves exposing themselves in ways they would not expect. Zoe cringed as a man crawled to his knees, sobbing as he begged his wife to dance with her. How embarrassing, she thought. This is why I do not drink in the first place. 

She walked up the stairs towards the bathroom. It was growing to be a long night, and she had not taken a break since she got to the estate. However, as she was walking towards the door, she heard a loud crash from a room down the hallway. Zoe jumped. People aren’t allowed to be up here. Did someone break in? Fear crept into her head, but she silenced it. Taking in a deep breath, she walked down the hallway and into the room.

Two people were passionately making out on the carpet, and a lamp lay on the floor, the bulb shattered. When they heard the door open, they jumped off each other, faces beet red. “What the hell are you doing here?!” Felix blurted out, startled. Zoe was flabbergasted. Doesn’t he have a wife? she thought. However, her question was quickly answered when she saw his hand. No ring. She looked up; the woman bore daggers into her eyes, looking incredibly displeased. Breaking the spell, Zoe cleared her throat, feeling a sudden wave of awkwardness. “Sorry, sorry, let me just…leave…” she said, backing out and shutting the door. She leaned against it, her cheeks red. That was…rather spicy. Though his reaction— a bubble of laughter escaped her mouth— was something else.

Dazed by what just happened, she almost did not acknowledge Adrien Agreste, who ran into her on the stairs. 

“Zoe! Are you okay?”

Zoe shook her head and looked up. Her eyes widened, cheeks growing hot once again. “Hi, yeah, sorry, I was just…thinking…?”

Adrien looked at her briefly with confusion, but was swiftly masked by a genial smile. “It’s good to see you, I did not know you were catering this event!”

“Yeah,” Zoe said, fidgeting with her hair. “I just happened to be available today.”

“How is your father doing?”

Zoe’s shy smile faltered. “He’s…doing okay.”

Adrien’s eyes furrowed in concern. “Okay…”

They stood in heavy silence for a moment. “Sorry to ruin the mood,” Adrien said, clearing his throat. “I did not know it was a touchy subject. Why don’t you say hi to Marinette?”

Zoe’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I really couldn’t bother her—”

“I insist.”

It was hard to say no to Adrien. After all, it was his birthday. “Okay, where is she?”

They moved through the venue in quick strides. Eventually, they stopped in the kitchen.

“Isn’t she in the main room?” Zoe said. “Why are we stopping?”

“I forgot to tell you,” he started, “but did you know your sister moved back to Paris?”

Zoe stopped. “What?” she said, breathless. “When?”

“About six months back. Has she called you?”

“No, but how do you know?”

Adrien grimaced. “She worked at my company for a couple of months in a supervisor position.”

“What do you mean, ‘worked’?”

“She got fired. Her conduct was not… pleasant, to say the very least.”

Zoe chuckled. “Yeah, she was never good at that kind of stuff.” 

It was weird. Zoe never thought too much about her sister until just a minute ago, but the thoughts about her return were mixed. On one end, she was angry and hurt. Chloe was a bitch to her, and would constantly make her feel miserable for just being herself. On the other end, she wanted to see her again. Hang out with her and make up for lost time. It was all so confusing, yet her train of thought stopped when she saw Marinette.

She looked ethereal. Her skin was smooth and pale, with a subtle pink tint coating her heart-shaped lips. Raven hair was pinned up in an elegant bun, and she donned a long, form-fitting white dress with pigeons etched in gold detailing. Her eyes shimmered like diamonds.

She may have fallen in love all over again if she didn’t glance at Adrien, who cocked an eyebrow her way. Realizing that her mouth was slightly open, she clamped her jaw shut as Marinette walked their way, greeting them with a smile. “Zoe!” Marinette said jovially, hugging her. Zoe stood there, frozen and awkwardly patted her back. “Hey Marinette—” she said, as the woman pulled away, “—How have your kids been?”

“Lovely!” Marinette beamed. “Louis is just entering elementary and my, is he excelling! He is picking up on the violin—” 

“Quite exceptional if I do say so myself,” Zoe cut in . 

Marinette stopped. “Sorry,” Zoe said quickly, “I did not mean to cut in.” Shit, that was rude. 

“No need to worry,” she said, laughing. “I do it a lot, right, Adrien?”

“Yeah,” Adrien said, amused. “You learn a lot when you are married.”

“I can imagine,” Zoe laughed half-heartedly. “How is your fashion line?” she said, turning to Marinette. 

“Great! We are in the making of our new scarf life, Perfectly Winter. I know it is quite early for production, but you must always be ready for next season! Speaking of which…”

Time passed by as they chatted. Honestly, she never thought that Marinette would ever get the courage to confess to Adrien, or even for Adrien to accept her feelings. Marinette was a little…obsessed with him, to say the least, at first. Zoe remembered the story Alya told her about Marinette attempting to memorize his calendar. But, either one or the other confessed, and now they built a happy life with children in the mix. Zoe wondered what it would be like to see Chloe again and learn how her life has been. However, her mood immediately dampened at the thought. Nevertheless, she put on a sweet smile and continued to chat, even as her mind drifted out of her body.

“...so the day care wants Hugh to play and, well, I can’t force him to do stuff he does not want to do. So, I stopped taking him there. Besides, I did not really care for the other mothers; they were very gossipy. Seriously, who wants to spend energy on such an activity? Says a lot about their character and work ethic. Anyway, I should get going,” Marinette concluded, out of breath from chatting. “Violet needs to be fed, and Hugh may throw a tantrum if I don’t play with him. It was nice seeing you, Zoe. Adrien, I’ll see you at home?”

Adrien smiled, kissing her cheek. “Yeah.”

Marinette turned and left the scene. It feels good to catch up with old classmates , Zoe thought. I wish we could all reunite, or continue to talk more…

A new idea popped into her head. 

“Adrien,” Zoe started. Adrien turned to her, intrigued. “Yeah?” 

“I wanted to ask this before Marinette showed up, but…could you give me Chloe’s number?”

His brow quirked. “I thought you already had it?”

“I did, but I think she changed her number. I tried calling it, and it would never go through.”

“Why do you want it?”

Zoe hesitated before answering. She shouldn’t want to see her, and shouldn’t have to. “My gut tells me I need to talk to her again.”

Adrien pulled out a receipt from Burger King. Zoe looked at him, initially confused, but it quickly dawned on her. Written on the piece of reciept paper was her number. “How did you get that?” 

“She gave it to me after the interview, and said she wanted to talk things through.” His eyes glistened with mixed emotions. “But—” he said, handing the receipt to Zoe, “I am not sure if I am ready to talk to her again.”

Zoe took the receipt. Burger King, huh?   She smiled. “I know,” Adrien said, grinning, “I can’t believe it either.”

Adrien’s eyes wandered over to someone else. “Well, I've got to go,” Adrien said casually. “But it was nice seeing you, Zoe.” 

He patted her shoulder and headed into the main room towards his cousin, who looked disheveled and drunk-dazed. Zoe chuckled to herself as she continued working. 

Zoe stared at the phone for fifteen minutes and counting. 

It is currently eleven minutes until zero o’clock, and she was dressed in her sleepwear. Zoe knew she should get some rest and call her tomorrow. But, I really, really want to see how she is doing. And ask her why she left. 

Hesitation seized Zoe initially. What if Chloe did not want to talk to her? What if Chloe did not remember her?

Even worse, what if Adrien gave her the wrong number? 

There was a slight chance he could have given her the wrong number. It would be really embarrassing if she called, expecting it to be Chloe, and a stranger was on the other line. 

But he seemed so sure of himself , Zoe thought. And Adrien is not a liar . She took a deep breath. Then, she dialed the numbers and pressed the call.

The room was silent as the phone rang. The fan overhead creaked softly, and the light from her lamp flickered subtly. White noise buzzed loudly outside, and the sky was barely black. However, all of these sensations were filtered out by the sound of her phone clicking. Chloe did not pick up. 

Zoe took her phone and sent a voice message. “Hi, big sis, this is Zoe,” she said with a hint of enthusiasm, “I heard you are back in town. Hope I can see you soon. Maybe we can grab some coffee, catch up. And…”

The words died from her lips. I love you, she meant to say. 

“...I hope you call me back.” 

She hung up the phone and crawled into bed. She knew Chloe would not pick up, especially at this godforsaken hour. But that’s okay , Zoe thought. Chloe might answer the phone tomorrow, and things can get squared out. Everything will be alright.

Zoe Lee woke up at 7 am that morning. 

It was a normal routine. Get up, stretch, and roll the neck three times to get rid of the stiffness. Though exhaustion lined her eyes, and her head felt fuzzy, she knew today would be like any other day. 

Fantastic!

Zoe walked over to the bedroom next to her. There lay her father, sleeping. This time, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and his breathing was more labored than usual. She could not help but feel a little panicked. She shook his shoulder. “Dad,” she called, voice faltering a bit. He slowly opened his eyes and wanly smiled. “I know that look,” he said. “I’m okay, dear.”

Zoe sighed. “Good. I don’t want you to feel anything other than that.”

“Not even elated?”

Zoe rolled her eyes with amusement. “Silly, I meant as in ‘I don’t want you to feel any more pain’”.

Andre closed his eyes again. “Let us not talk about that.”

“About what?”

“Pain.”

“Why not?”

He groaned. “Because then I’ll start worrying about it, and worrying is no good.”

A silence stretched in the room, and they both looked outside the window. It was a cloudy day today, and based on the wind’s direction, she expected storms to arise. It combed through the trees ferociously and tossed the lawn chairs from one end of the garden to another. What an unpleasant sight.

A camera flashed. 

Zoe turned pointedly over to her father, who took the picture. “Don’t give me that scowl, dear,” Andre said, smiling broadly. “You’ll regret it when you look back on it.”

“Yeah, but it is seven o’clock in the morning,” Zoe said. “I don’t think you understand how terrible my eyebags are.”

“You're young, it will be fine. My skin is saggy, and my hair is withering away, but you don’t hear me complaining now?”

“I guess not,” Zoe said, chuckling. 

“Besides,” Andre started, “I like the nostalgic feeling pictures bring. Whenever I think of my mornings, I’ll always think of you now.”

Zoe gave him a gentle smile. She always knew her father liked film and photography; however, he never got to turn his passion into something more than a hobby. Mainly, it was due to his upbringing and Audrey’s influence throughout their marriage, and the gradual change from aspiring artist to rigid politician became his reality. It was hard to understand why he would choose this path for himself if it was not fulfilling as a child. But as an adult, it was easy to understand. Sometimes, life throws a curveball, and people must change paths merely to survive. 

However, her father is now retired and is currently working on a photo collection to advertise his new photography business. So, throughout the past year, he has been using the DSLR camera Zoe got for him last year, and snapping pictures left and right. 

Such as the one he captured a mere minute ago. 

The alarm on Andre’s phone went off at eight o’clock. Andre shut it off and grunted softly. “How does your stomach feel?” Zoe said, with a look of concern. 

“Fine, fine…give me a minute to breathe…” He took two deep breaths in and sighed heavily. 

“Do you want something to eat?”

“No, that’s alright, dear.”

This response concerned Zoe further. He had not eaten anything since breakfast yesterday. 

“Do we need to go to the doctor—”

“No, no sweetie, it is okay. I just…don’t have the appetite right now.”

“Okay,” Zoe said, “But promise me you will tell me if you are not feeling good.”

Andre shook his head. “Good.”

He chuckled with amusement. “You are something, you know that?”

“I guess my caring nature comes from you, Dad.”

He smiled proudly and looked away. Awe, he’s embarrassed , Zoe thought. 

“Off topic, mind if I ask about your shoe customization business? You haven’t told me much about it…”

They talked until Zoe had to get ready for work. She slid on a light coat as she headed towards the door. “I’m heading off to work. My next event starts at nine thirty, and it is thirty-five minutes away. I will be back around 14:00. Call Raniah if you are having trouble with anything.”

“Oh, I would not want to bother her, it’s her day off—”

“Dad, she’s your caretaker for a reason. Call Raniah if anything is amiss,” she said firmly. “If she is unavailable, call me. Okay?”

Andre sighed. “Alright,” he said. “But be careful on the roads.”

“I always am.” She walked over to her dad and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you, Dad.”

He nodded. “I love you, too, dear. Now, don’t be late this time!”

Zoe laughed at the last remark and headed out. This was like every other day. Everything will be alright.

It was six forty-two when she got back to the house. 

Zoe did not expect to get home this late. However, she had to make a couple of unexpected errands for the catering team, plus it was grocery week. Dread always filled her with the thought of stockpiling food. It was all so particular, especially with her dad living with her. Every time she would go, he would request something either abnormal, like eggplant, or expensive, like organic spinach. Always organic. She constantly chastises him for being the reason they are always broke (though always in good fun; in reality, her job is not very stable). 

Grocery week also meant that she had to get creative with where to put stuff. Since Rudy only has one tiny compartment in the back and a basket, Zoe has to organize everything in a certain manner for things to be transported safely. Which is a pain to do every single time, and even worse, her methodology was not working today. So, she ended up having to carry one bag around her handlebars and the other around her arm. Inconvenient, to say the least.

She opened the door. “I’m home!” she called, expecting her father to acknowledge her presence. Instead, she heard the rasp of labored breathing from the room and the crash of different objects. Zoe dropped everything she was doing and rushed over to her dad’s bedroom. 

Her dad was sprawled on the floor, writhing in pain. “Shit, this hurts,” he grumbled. His skin looked yellow, and bruises covered his forearm. “Dad!” she called, kneeling over to help him up. 

“Honey, I’m okay, I’m okay.”

“Dad, no, you're not!” Zoe yelled in a panic. “Your veins are popping everywhere! That’s not normal!”

Her phone was nearby. Zoe snatched it, and dialed 911. The phone rang, and a woman answered. “Hello, this is a first responder answering. Please state your reason.”

“Hi, my dad has just collapsed, and I need an ambulance to drive him to the hospital.”

“State your name, address, and status.”

After five minutes, Zoe gave the lady the right information and hung up. 

“Honey, it’s fine, all fine now—” 

“Stop saying everything is fine!”

The room went silent. Then, Zoe crossed over and held her dad upright. “Zoe dear, can you come closer? My voice is not too good, and I must tell you this if I—”

“Dad, stop!” 

“Listen, please!” Andre shouted. “I am begging you!”

Zoe came closer. The words slipped from his lips, and Zoe looked at him with shock. “If you ever find your sister, I want you to relay this information,” he whispered, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

In that moment, he slipped out of consciousness. 

“Dad!” she shrieked as she caught him. 

Though she was undoubtedly worried, Zoe knew it was a matter of time before the ambulance would come and treat her dad. She wanted to believe that everything would be alright.

The ambulance came. 

It was a ten-minute drive to the hospital. 

Doctors swarmed the patient. He was then put on life support.

Beep…beep…beep…beep—

This steady noise told the news already. 

Her father had just died. 

After hearing the news, she called Chloe eleven times. Multiple long voice messages were left, and Zoe tried every angle to relay the message her dad wanted Chloe to hear. But not once did Chloe pick up. The twelfth try tested Zoe’s limit. At this point, she threw her phone on the ground and screamed inconsiderate curses over the phone. It was like shouting in a blackhole, where no matter how loud something is, it will never reach the other side. It will inevitably be destroyed. 

Zoe lay awake at night, sobbing herself to sleep. Loneliness triumphed over the calm stillness of the dark, and it clawed at her with hopes of exploiting every vulnerability she kept secret. However, she continued to hope, wonder, and wait for her sister to call. To wrap her spiritual arms around Zoe and lull her to sleep. To tell her everything would be alright. 

 One month passed, and Zoe Lee still continued to wake up at 7 am. 

It was a normal routine. Get up, stretch, and roll the neck three times to get rid of the stiffness. 

She knew today would be like any other day. 

…

Zoe walked over to the bedroom next to her. There, her father used to sleep. Tears threatened to fall at the sight of the room. It took her back to when they would sit together, basking in the sunlight. Their mornings were full of laughter, meaningful conversations, and peaceful silence. Now, the room was cleaned and organized. It felt like an abandoned room, for no soul was to be found. She turned away. 

Zoe could have worked on the commissioned shoes for Nadia Chamack. It would pass the time before the funeral, and it needed to get done. She picked up her acrylic brush and dipped it in blue paint. Her brain was stumped, and her hand shook. Why can’t I paint? People always told her that her artistic talent came from her father. Instinctively, she knocked the paint over, leaving a trail of blue on the carpet. Zoe sighed: it would need to be cleaned out. 

The funeral had a good turnout. Many of her co-workers showed up, and high-profile persons, including Mrs. Tsurugi, Jagged Stone, and Max Kante, were present. All expressed their sorrow towards the former mayor. He may have had mixed reviews in the community, but his death was never celebrated. 

Zoe watched as the gravediggers buried his ashes. Everyone else was already inside mingling, but she needed some quiet time to herself. She felt a mix of emotions: numb to the shock of what was occurring, and angry at her older sister, Chloe Bourgeois. 

She didn’t even show up to the funeral. Her own father’s fucking funeral. Zoe bristled. How could she? After everything that he has done for her and the things he would say about her, why? WHY?

She almost reached out to grab her phone and send her another hateful voice message.

But the spell was broken when Zoe heard footsteps. She turned around; Adrien and his family had arrived. 

“Hey,” Marinette said, embracing Zoe. Zoe felt a wet patch as Marinette cried, mourning this great loss. Zoe squeezed her tightly. 

Adrien looked at her, sorrow filling his eyes. “Your father was a good man,” he stated, “It is sad to see him go.”

“I am so sorry,” Marinette cried, wiping her tears away. 

Zoe held it in. “Thank you for the words. I know he would have appreciated that.”

Silence filled the air. Zoe awkwardly shuffled her feet, and the two looked at her with concern. “Are you okay—” 

“There’s food in the reception area,” she blurted, cutting them off. “Make sure you guys eat.”

They walked away, but not without side glances of worry. Zoe walked back towards his grave and leaned on his headstone. Her breath shook as she sighed.

“You were almost there,” she started. “We were so close to getting you treated properly. So close to being done with the nightmare that is cirrhosis, close to being healthy and happy. Close to finishing that photo collection and that film project I know you worked tirelessly on,” she chuckled sadly. “And now—you're gone.” Her vision got blurry as she paused. “I know you worry a lot about me, though. I’m here to tell you that I am holding up. Things are pretty bad; I still haven’t fixed my pipes, and my job is unstable. But, I know that everything will be fine soon—” Tears fell down her face, and she curled into a ball. 

“Everything will be fine,” she heaved. “Everything will be fine, everything will be fine, everything will be fine, everything will be fine, everything will be fine, everything will be fine, everything will be fine—”

As she repeated each statement, she began to cry harder.

The leafless tree cracked as the wind howled. Grass turned a muted green, dry of life, and squirrels hid in hibernation. The clouds thundered, and a drop fell on her head. She looked up. Rain would begin its fall, giving sustainable growth to the depreciation of greenery.  

Feelings of futility are only deserved by the people who lose everything. 

Streaked with tears, she curled up by his cold, lifeless headstone, holding on to the only warmth that today brought her. 

The rain began to pour.

Chapter Text

It had been six weeks since Chloe was fired. 

The green couch sagged as she lay, chin tilted towards the sky. Her eyes followed the old ceiling fan, for its movement was hypnotic, and kept her eyes awake. The room was hotter than usual; the sun pierced her sheer curtains, catalyzing the formation of sweat, which trickled down her temples and back. Exhausted by nothing, she sighed heavily with each breath. 

Minutes moved by, with the overhead clock ticking with sudden precision. Suddenly, her phone rang loudly in the kitchen. 

Ugh, she thought, getting up slowly. I bet it's my landlord. Again.

Chloe made her way to the kitchen, which was currently a sight for sore eyes. Dishes piled higher in the sink, and the start of a musty smell emanated from the bottom. Chloe scrunched her nose for a quick moment, then turned to the phone. An unknown number, she thought, scoffing, I don’t need to answer that. She turned away, and the phone clicked shortly after. Now, I should really get this kitchen cleaned—

“Hi, this is Zoe.” 

Chloe’s heart stopped. 

 “I heard you are back in town. Hope I can see you soon. Maybe we can grab some coffee, catch up. And I hope—”

In one swift moment, Chloe snatched the phone, pressed the END button, and threw her phone towards the couch like it was the plague. Her hands pressed into the counter, eyes wide with fear. 

This can’t be happening, she thought, face blanched. This can’t be happening. How did she get my number? What do I do? How do I respond?

She paced around the room, considering the next move. 

God, where did she get the gall to call me? We haven’t spoken in years, this is going to be awkward as hell! How should I start? Oh, I know. ‘Hi little sis, sorry for ignoring you and dad for the past SIX YEARS.’ Hahaha…shit what was the number that called me again—

Chloe’s breathing hitched. Wait. How did she get my number? 

There was no way Zoe could have gotten her number. Chloe remembered changing her number the day before she left for New York. No one, not even Zoe, knows her new number now. A tired hand slapped her forehead, and she closed her eyes with relief. This could have been a fluke. 

She began to chuckle. The heat was most definitely messing with her head. Chloe looked up at the ceiling, blinking slowly at the imminent fear she almost faced. “I need to take a shower,” she mumbled.

The fan continued to spin, creaking more harshly as time passed. 

The shower was cold as ice. Chloe usually didn’t like cold showers, as they always felt too harsh and invasive. However, today was an exception, because it was hot as fuck: nothing was worse than sitting in your sweat. It also gave her a little clarity to think about what happened yesterday at the Pick-and-Find.

Initially, she wanted to turn down the offer Anarka made her. The pay would not be great, and would put her college degree to waste. However, it was difficult to find a good job, especially if companies were turning her down left and right. The fact that she was fired in the first place was not a good look for her image. She sighed; was it wrong to wish Alya would break a heel and fall into the river? Chloe chuckled at the thought.

But no amount of manifesting could get her a decent job, and this may be the only offer she would encounter. Chloe stepped out of the shower and, with pinched brows, wrapped a towel around her chest. Then, she called the number Anarka gave her. 

A whirring fuzz sounded over the phone. “Hello?” a voice erupted, crackling. 

“Hi, this is Chloe Bourgeois. I ran into you at the Pick-And-Find a week ago?”

“Oh, were you the one with the blonde hair carrying leopard print leggings?”

Chloe paused for a minute, shocked. “Yeah, I was,” she said, laughing uncomfortably. 

“Oh, I remember you now! You have impeccable taste!”

“Thank you…However, I called you because I was wondering if you are still looking to hire anyone?”

“Yes, I am!” Anarka said. “Are you interested?”

“I am…do you know where I can drop off an application?”

“Don’t worry about it! You're hired!”

Chloe’s jaw dropped, floored. “You don’t need a resume or anything?”

“Nope, what day do you want to work?”

“I…uh…hold on, give me one second—” Chloe fumbled around, pulling up her schedule on her phone. The next day was free; Chloe grinned. “Tomorrow will work!” Chloe exclaimed. 

“Very well. Do you need the address?”

“I have an idea of where your store is, but send me the address anyway. That would be great.”

After sending out the address and conversing about the job details, it was time to hang up. 

“It was great talking to you, dear,” Anarka said. “I will see you tomorrow.”

The phone clicked, and Chloe let out a sigh of relief. What a whirlwind of a phone call that was, she thought. 

The next day was the start of her new job at Anarka’s Antiques and Clothing, which was in the heart of downtown . At the doorstep, Chloe felt a wave of nerves. What if I bomb this entire gig? What if I’m not good enough?  She shook her head, attempting to ward off these thoughts. With a gentle exhale of breath, she opened the door. 

The low volume of rock music sounded throughout the entire store, followed by racks upon racks of resale band t-shirts. The store encapsulated a punk aesthetic: displays of piercings of all shapes, types, materials, and sizes were placed around the store, worn-out tattoo ads were plastered on the wooden wall, and varieties of belts were hung on a long hanger that jutted out quite far.  

Definitely not her style, but it was interesting to note.

She walked over to the glass counter, which was vacant. She rang the bell one, two, three times before she was met with a stretch of silence. 

Weird, she thought with a slight frown. No answer.  

Chloe headed into the back room, expecting at least a co-worker to be present. 

She was met with silence again. No one was here. 

So why is the store still open? 

Just then, she heard a vehicle pull up. Luka entered through the doorway, disheveled. “Mom, hold on, let me get—Chloe? What are you doing back here?”

Chloe's breath hitched, startled. “Is Anarka here? She told me I start work today.”

Luka looked back. “Yeah, but she’s…well…”

“Well, what?” Chloe questioned as she pushed past him and walked through the door. 

Chloe’s eyebrows furrowed in concern as she witnessed Anarka Couffaine rummaging through a dumpster. 

A tinge of red crept to Luka’s cheeks as he pinched his nose. “She’s in the dumpster, isn’t she?”

Chloe slowly nodded her head. 

Anarka poked her head out of the green roll-off container, wearing a crinkly smile. “I found something salvageable! Luka, dear, can you help me lift this thing out?”

Luka walked over silently, climbed into the dumpster, and lifted the bottom of a pink chair. It looked severely worn down, and many inconspicuous holes formed in the fabric. After a minute, the chair was out of the dumpster, Anarka looking at it with pure wonder. 

Chloe only had one thought: This is so fucking disgusting. 

Though it was not what Anarka Couffaine thought, as she exclaimed, “This is amazing!”

Luka sighed heavily. “Mom, what are you going to use that for?”

Anarka huffed. “For resale, of course.”

“You cannot be serious, we can’t sell this to customers!” 

“Well, it just needs to be resewn in these areas—” she said, pointing towards the holes, “Cleaned, stained at the bottom, and it would look good as new!”

“This goes against the Paris county health code, Mom!”

“Excuse me for trying to help Mother Earth—”

Chloe cleared her throat. “Hi, Mrs. Couffaine…”

Anarka looked back and extended a hand. “Chloe dear, so happy you can make it!” she said, shaking Chloe’s hand vigorously. 

“Anytime…” 

“I take it that you haven’t properly met my son, Luka,” Anarka continued, nodding to the tall man. “He also works here.”

Chloe stifled a smile, looking over at him. “So I’ve gathered.”

“Alright, let's start training! This job isn’t that hard; it's just a matter of taking inventory, ensuring everything is in order, and running the counter. Think of it as managing your own closet! Oh, but first, let’s get you your time card in the back. Follow me, dear…”

Anarka headed to the door, and as Chloe proceeded behind her, she felt a buzz vibrate from her purse. She took out her phone and frowned slightly. It was the same number that called her yesterday. This is strange, Chloe thought to herself. Should I answer this—

“Chloe dear, are you coming in?”

Chloe jolted. “Coming!” she yelled, dazed by both the strange calls and Anarka’s odd behavior. 

An interesting way to start her new job, indeed. 

“You actually listen to XY?” Luka questioned with a tinge of concern. 

It had been a few hours since Chloe arrived. Anarka had left for the day, and left Luka in charge of closing up shop. Though Chloe was permitted to leave early today, she couldn’t help but stay with him, just to get more familiar with the everyday routines. Currently, they were going through a dead period and had a handful of time on their hands. Why not try to get to know her co-worker?

“What about it?” Chloe retorted playfully. “His music is not that bad.”

“I am usually not one to judge music taste, but listening to music by XY? Really ?”

“Oh, do you have any better recommendations?”

“Plenty,” Luka said, smiling. “Green Day, Adele, Frank Sinatra, Dreamcatcher—”

“Wait, Dreamcatcher? Who are they?”

“Rock-infused Korean pop band.”

“Oh. I’ll have to take note of that.” Chloe said. “What about Jagged Stone? You and your mom seem like fans of him.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You guys have a lot of his merchandise.”

Luka paused for a minute. “I guess you're right. But I wouldn’t consider myself an avid Jagged Stone listener.”

“But your musical style seems so similar to his,” Chloe said pensively. 

“Well, he is…” Luka stopped abruptly. The silence filled the room as he fiddled with his thumbs. 

“He’s what?” Chloe pressed. 

“He’s…um…just an influence. Yeah.” Luka pushed his palms away from the glass counter and straightened himself. “I’m going to get some lunch. I’ll be back in a few.” 

He walked out of the room, leaving Chloe in awkward silence. Weird , she thought. But there was little time to think about what happened when her phone began to ring again. 

She glanced over. It was the same number from two hours ago, and a mixture of curiosity and fear emerged as she picked up her phone. She could answer it and tell the person over the phone that this was the wrong number. They could laugh it off, hang up, and go about their day. However, she could not shake the feeling that the person calling her for the third time in a row was doing this by accident. Someone she knew was trying to contact her.

So she let the phone ring.

And ring. And ring. And ring. Finally, the phone call ended with a click. 

Chloe let out a sigh of relief. Well, I don’t have to deal with that today— 

“Hey Chloe, this is your sister, Zoe Bourgeios,” the voice said. “I hope I have the right number. Please contact me when you can. I would love to see you again. Bye.”

The voicemail ended, leaving Chloe’s face white with terror. 

Objectively speaking, it was a nice voicemail. She found out her sister wanted to see her again, and she didn’t seem to hold any animosity. This was supposed to be good news. However, Chloe could not help but feel dread as she sank into the grey-cushioned rolling chair, thinking, "Why is this happening to me?" 

Chloe remembered her treatment of Zoe: the condescending looks, the cold shoulder. The unneeded backhanded compliments on her dress, the way she would humiliate her at every chance. All these subtle, yet powerful actions made their relationship incredibly distant and cold. However, there was one event in particular that catalyzed their distance, and soiled the half-sister connection. It soured Chloe’s mood to think about it, however. 

She got up and turned off her phone. No need to answer, she thought. 

Chloe walked around the empty store, the little speaker in the corner emitting heavy metal. This is a heavy grunge aesthetic indeed, she thought once more, as she sifted through the t-shirts. One caught her eye: it was navy blue, with a lime green shout callout behind outlined pink lettering that said: JAGGED STONE WORLD TOUR in janky, uneven handwriting. She turned it around; all of the cities Jagged Stone went to were plastered on the back. The shirt has potential, but it needs some tweaking.

Chloe laid the shirt down on the counter. I’m going to need some pins, she thought. “Luka!” she called to the back, “Do we have any sewing pins anywhere back there?”

Luka looked back, swallowing a bite of his sandwich. “Not that I’m aware of,” he said, as he got up. “Why?”

“I’m trying to redesign a t-shirt.”

“In what way?”

“Well,” Chloe began, stepping to the side once he emerged, “I’m thinking about cutting a certain portion of the t-shirt, hemming different quarters of the shirt to make the product finished but fitting it’s proper aesthetic, and maybe doing something with the collar, but I’m not quite sure…”

“You seem like you know your stuff,” Luka said, with an intrigued look in his eyes. “What got you into it?”

“I did it when I was younger, stopped, then picked it up when money started to get tight,” she said. 

“Have you ever thought of repurposing clothes on commission?”

“Yeah, but it’s not super stable in terms of income. I would need to have my own line if I wanted to do that kind of—”

Chloe paused. Wait. 

Wait, wait, wait, what did I just think about right now, hold on—

An idea came into fruition. “That’s it!” Chloe said, pounding her fist on the counter. 

Luka jolted, taken aback by the sudden noise. “What are you talking about?”

“I have an idea, a concept I just thought just now,” Chloe stated. “What if I created my own clothing line?”

It was early evening when Luka and her closed the shop. 

“Sorry, I talked your ear off about the whole clothing shop idea,” Chloe said sheepishly. 

“No worries,” Luka said. “I don’t mind listening.”

Not many people say that, Chloe thought, waving him goodbye. She spun on her heel and strolled towards the nearest thrift shop, which was called Kit’s. The smell of musty wood and dust filled the room, and Chloe could not help but feel a slight calm. 

As she sifted, a memory resurfaced, bringing her back to her early teens. It was a cloudy and dark afternoon, with signs of thunderstorms looming over the Eiffel Tower. Chloe Bourgeois was thirteen years old, her mother left again for New York, and she was going through the beginning stages of a rebellious phase. During this period, the butler would always be put through hell, and her father consistently tried to appease her by spoiling her rotten. But the hole in her heart began to grow larger, deeper. Nothing brought her joy; even the fleeting attention of her father and butler was always a short-lived victory in a losing war. 

That day turned into one of those lazy, lonely days. As she gazed out the huge windows in the hotel, she thought of her mother. Successful, beautiful, daring, fashionable: these were all the traits this woman had, and what Chloe aspired to have when she grew up. She knew and understood why her mom left to pursue her passion, and thought she had grown accepting of her frequent departures. She should have been fine with it at this point.

But…

There was a feeling she could not put into proper words at the time, that took a piece from her soul every time she was not around. 

She glanced at her messy closet. It had a wide variety of clothing from different brands, textures, styles, and purposes. A purple scarf caught her eye instantly; it lay on the ground, its silk material meshing with each other. Chloe picked it up and, at random, wrapped it around her chest. This could be a cute strapped top if I altered it a little—

She paused and quickly grabbed a pair of hair clips from her drawer. In the corner of her eye, she saw scissors, beads, and tacks. The ideas came to her like a paintbrush violently smacking a canvas, painting unmade lines in her brain. Alterations could be made, things could be repurposed, and the possibilities seemed endless to a young girl with nothing else to do. 

This small moment, Chloe reflected, began the start of a lifelong pastime. She smiled wistfully and began to sift through the small pants section when a phone buzzed in her pocket. The spell was broken. Chloe grabbed her phone to look at the caller ID; she groaned in exasperation. Zoe’s number appeared on the screen. The woman quickly declined her incoming call and left the store. 

The calls kept coming. And every single time, Chloe refused to pick up. 

By the time Thursday hit, she had received twelve calls from Zoe’s number in total. Voice messages were initially used, but later on in the week, the number would just call. As she wiped the glass shelves at the front desk, she felt a buzz in her pocket. It was the second call of that day, but this became a normal aspect of her day. She let it ring.

And ring. 

And ring. 

And—

Chloe declined the call. She was getting tired of this and just wanted one wish to be granted: to have Zoe stop spam calling her. Get the message, she thought. I don’t need you in my life. 

“Why don’t you answer?” Luka asked. “They may stop spam calling you—”

“This is none of your business,” Chloe said, quickly cutting him off. “Can we just get back to work?”

“You’ve been in a sour mood all day, and it’s so bad that the customers are sensing the negative energy. Did you see the look on that poor lady’s face when she was checking out?”

Chloe rolled her eyes, head propped on her hand. “It was not that bad, don’t be so dramatic.”

“I just think you should talk to someone about your issues.”

“Why are you lecturing me? I don’t even know you!” Chloe snapped. “Could we just drop this? I don’t need a shoulder to cry on.”

Luka looked at her pitifully. “You're a very guarded person, you know that?”

That struck a chord. Her eyes averted as she said, “What do you mean?”

“Do you have any friends? Be honest.”

Chloe stood upright. “Of course I do! I—” 

She stopped short. Luka still held that pitiful look in his eyes, as if he were looking at a wounded animal. She looked down, biting her lip in embarrassment. 

“What am I even saying?” Chloe chuckled dryly. She collapsed in her seat and buried her face in her hands. Luka walked over, knelt by her side, and placed a hand on her back. 

“Pretend you have one, and tell me what’s wrong.”

“That’s silly.”

“Just try to.”

This is so stupid , she thought. Then, she took a deep breath and exhaled through her nostrils, frustrated. “It’s my sister, Zoe.”

“She’s the one who’s been calling you non-stop? Why won’t you answer her?”

“...we aren’t very close.”

“Did she do anything to hurt you?”

“Why are you asking me so many questions?”

“Sorry, you give me minimal responses. Elaborate.”

“You're not my therapist.”

He sighed. “Sorry. I’ll stop asking.”

“Thank you.” She unwound her hands and set them on the counter. “But to answer you, no. She did nothing at all. But it’s because she did nothing that makes me not want to talk to her.”

Chloe glanced at Luka, who nodded at her to continue. Her lips thinned slightly. 

“Zoe and I are half-sisters, born from the same mom, that is. And we never met until she moved to Paris in my sophomore year of high school. She was quite the opposite of me; optimistic, bubbly, and colorful. Zoe had spirit and passion for almost everything, whether that was for her education, friends, or art. You know, maybe if I addressed my superiority complex early on, we could have been good sisters. But I never did, and I was always insanely jealous of her. It started with the snarky comments about her appearance. Then, it progressed in school when I would make backhanded insults at her artwork. These acts were subtle, but I wanted every word to kill her heart. But…I went too far one day.” She gulped. “Let's say, what I did…I…it was the reason she didn’t get into art school.” She took a pen and started to click it repeatedly. “It was her dream school, too,” she said, voice breaking slightly. “And I fucked up everything for her.”

A beat of silence filled the empty store. Eyes downcast, Chloe turned to Luka. “I must sound like a monster to you, don’t I?”

Luka said nothing. Instead, his hand slid away from her back and gripped her shoulder firmly. “I think you should go talk to her.”

Chloe shook her head. “Didn’t I tell you? I can’t see her, I don’t deserve to be involved in her life anymore—”

“Who are you to decide?” Luka said sharply. “She’s calling you multiple times a day.”

“How would I respond? ‘Sorry for all of the terrible shit I’ve done to you in the past, AND for ignoring you’?” she said shortly. “Also, what if I don’t want to see her? Did you ever consider that?”

She got up and was about to leave when the bell rang above the door. Adrien Agreste strided in with the confidence of a peacock. Chloe almost fought the urge to roll her eyes as he approached the desk. He glanced at Chloe for a second before shifting his gaze to Luka.  

“Hey man!” Adrien said, combing through his blonde hair and smiling broadly. “How have you been?”

“Never been better,” Luka said sarcastically, “Still busking.”

“That’s unfortunate, man.”

Luka shrugged. “It’s fine with me. I still have income from this job, so it evens out a little.”

Adrien eyes him intently. “You know, I can open up a position for you at the company if you are interested—”

“I’m not.”

Adrien held his hands up defensively. “Alright, alright. Now, what did I need…oh! I have a pickup order for an 11x13 quartz rock. For Marinette’s birthday, she loves sparkly stuff. But, just curious if you got anything from shipping?”

Luka looked through a series of papers before answering, “Yeah. It’s in the back. Chloe, can you go get it?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said as she went through the curtain, into the back.

The package was hard to find, especially since it was crowded among the other disorganized boxes. As expected, Anarka isn’t the most organized person, she thought. But when she crossed towards the kitchen, she stopped short. 

“...so that’s what happened, huh?” Luka said softly. 

“Yeah,” Adrien said. “We are heading to his funeral at 16:00. I can’t say I’m excited.”

“No kidding,” Luka said thoughtfully. “I would never be excited to go to a funeral.”

Adrien chuckled painfully. “It stings, though. Setting aside his political affiliation and actions as mayor, I will still miss Andre Bourgeios. I can’t imagine what his daughter is feeling, seeing that she’s been taking care of him—”

Chloe ripped open the curtains, a blanched look on her face. “What do you mean, you will miss Andre Bourgeois? Did something happen to him?”

Adrien looked at her coldly. “Zoe’s been calling you constantly this week. Have you not sensed that something was wrong?”

“No dipshit. She called me so many times, and I didn’t want to answer.”

“You don’t know what happened?” Adrien said, teeth gritting. 

“No! That’s what I would like to know!”

“Fine! Your fucking father just passed away from cirrhosis! Happy?”

The news hit Chloe like a freight train, her eyes widening. That’s impossible, she thought. Yeah, he had medical problems, but he was in his mid-fifties at least. It’s quite young to die so soon—

Chloe began to gasp shallow gulps of air. “No, you're lying…” she trailed. This had to be fake. There was so much she should’ve done, could have done for one chance at—

“Can I have my package?” Adrien inquired, arrogance creeping into his voice.

Chloe snapped back into focus. “Yeah.”

After the transaction, Adrien left the store. Chloe was relieved to see him gone, but it was quickly replaced with the overwhelming feeling of grief. Her father had just died, and she never visited him once. 

She thought time would always be on her side. 

But it wasn’t. And all of those empty minutes staring into space could have been spent with her dad, who was lying on his deathbed. This was something that she couldn’t take back. 

“Luka,” she said, pleading. “Can you take me to the funeral?”

He whirled around. “Right now?”

“Yes.”

Luka picked up the keys, locked the door, and shut off the lights. “Let's go,” he said with quiet determination.

“Wait, what about the till—” 

“I’ll come back for it,” he said, cutting her off as they headed outside. The sky looked dreary and dark, though it was only mid-afternoon. “My car is this way,” he nodded to the right. 

While they walked to the car, Chloe thought of changing her mind. To not go to this gathering, to something that she was not personally invited to. 

But…this may be the only chance to run into Zoe. To rip off the eight-year-old bandage that had grown only more dirty and infected as time passed.

The funeral was held at a cheap venue about fifteen minutes away. Chloe and Luka pulled up, an apprehensive mood stifling the air. Chloe quietly unbuckled and almost left before looking over at Luka. He smiled encouragingly. “Just call me when you are ready.” Then, he pulled out of the area and left. 

Chloe turned around and exhaled shakily. I can’t believe I’m doing this, she thought as she pushed open the door. 

It was a nicely decorated funeral. The lights looked newly replaced, as the warm glow reflected off the cream-colored walls. The tables were all round, and seated about eight people. Although a little crowded in some areas, there were fewer people than she expected. A hole of guilt formed in her stomach. Chloe then began to wander around the area in search of her sister when someone called out her name. 

“Chloe!” Mrs. Bustier called enthusiastically, approaching her. “What a pleasant surprise. I didn’t expect you would turn up.”

Those words stung. Chloe shrugged awkwardly and averted her gaze as the teacher began to apologize. 

“I’m so sorry! I know he was your father, of course, you would come! Why wouldn’t you—”

“No, I think you're spot on,” Chloe said with a hint of disdain. “We were never on the same page most of the time anyway.” With that last word, Chloe left her side and walked outside.

The wind howled and weaved through the empty branches as they rattled. The clouds retreated towards the west, dark grey and ominous. I missed the storm, Chloe thought as she paced around the venue. 

A shadow next to the lone tree uphill caught her eye. Chloe’s head snapped up, looking in that direction. It was a slumping shape, curled next to an average-sized tombstone. Wait. I recognize that blonde hair anywhere…

With that thought, Chloe ran up the hill, towards the cemetery, and approached the woman next to the tombstone. 

It was Zoe. Sleeping on the outer edge of her dad’s tombstone.

She looked like a wreck. Her hair looked frizzy and matted down from the rain, giving the illusion of a wet cat. A furrow lined her brows, and a slight frown donned her face. Her position also looked uncomfortable too, with her head cocked at an angle that would make Chloe’s neck stiff. But when she approached Zoe, ready to wake her up, her eyes flew open. 

Chloe stumbled, taken aback. Shit, why did I even come over here—

“Chloe?” Zoe asked, voice groggy but holding volumes of shock. “You actually came?”

Chloe averted her eyes. “Yeah, I did. I left work when I heard the news from Adrien.”

Zoe’s head shot up instantly. “What do you mean? You didn’t get my voice messages?”

“Sorry, I was a little busy,” Chloe said, which was a lie. She just didn’t want the situation to escalate. 

“Oh, I see.” The awkward silence stretched for a couple of minutes, with both women fiddling with their hands. Chloe tried to open her mouth to say something, but the words fell short. It was incredibly uncomfortable, and Chloe immediately wished she were anywhere but here. 

“So…” Chloe started, “What does the will look like?”

It was the wrong thing to say.

Zoe stood up sharply, eyes boring into her skin like daggers. “Our father just passed away, and all you do is ask about the damn will ?”

Shit, Chloe thought. “No, that’s not what I meant to say—”

“Do you think I’m stupid enough to believe that you were too busy to pick up?”

“Okay, Zoe, some people have work!”

“I called you twelve times,” she said, voice hard. “Twelve times, and you didn’t think to pick up? That’s so insensitive!”

“Why are you giving me so much flak about this?” Chloe yelled. “Have you called Audrey twelve times to tell her her husband just died?”

Zoe bit her lip. “We both know what Audrey is like.”

“So? What gives you the excuse to call me twelve times? ”

“You're my sister, for Christ’s sake, and I know that you loved Dad! I know you cared about him!”

Chloe furrowed her eyebrows incredulously. “You don’t know jack shit about our relationship! What gives you the right to try and drag me to this funeral? I should be allowed a choice!”

Zoe opened her mouth to speak, but Chloe prodded on. “Maybe Dad treated you right, as he should, but he never treated me the way I wanted him to. Andre coddled me, spoiled me, but he never gave me any of his time or love. Why? His favorite excuse: He was too busy working ! Bullshit.”

“He loved you, Chloe, and you know it!”

“Tell that to my butler, and he would give you a different answer,” Chloe sneered. 

“Why are you adamant about leaving us behind like we are nothing to you?” Zoe shouted, her face shrouded with anger. 

“BECAUSE I FEEL GUILTY!” Chloe screamed. 

Both women huffed, forcing the emotion out of their diaphragms. 

“I…I just want to move on.” Chloe rasped. “Walk away. Forget everything that happened, and pretend like we are all strangers. Is that too much to ask?”

A tense silence stretched between the two women, with only the crunch of leaves and the howl of the wind sounding. Zoe looked down at her feet, fists white, tears blurring her vision. “I’m sorry, Chloe,” she said, breath quickening. “I’ve been trying to reach out to you, ask you how you are. I was hoping, wondering, waiting for you to pick up, and tell me that—” 

She dropped to the ground and curled into a ball. Chloe noticed her whole body shaking. “I missed you,” she admitted through sobs. “I missed you so much, Chloe, and that’s what I should have said sooner.”

Chloe’s throat was thick with emotion. Don’t cry, Chloe thought. She’s nothing to you now. We need to walk away, so we can get closure—

But she didn’t walk away. Instead, she crouched by Zoe, putting a hand to her shoulder. “I’m sorry!” Zoe choked. “I’m sorry I annoyed you, I’m sorry I dragged you here! I didn’t know you didn’t like Dad much—”

“Stop talking,” Chloe said, voice shaky. “Did you mean what you said? About missing me?”

“Of course!” Zoe cried. “Ever since you left, I felt a hole in my heart that never went away. It hasn’t been the same since you left.”

“Why would you miss me?” Chloe said, throat bobbling. “I’ve been a monster to you. I bullied you at school. I made fun of your appearance. I made homophobic jokes and played awful, demeaning pranks.” 

Zoe looked at her curiously. Chloe continued, a tear streaming down her cheek. “I ruined your chances at art school, Zoe,” she said with emphasis. “Remember those trashed paintings? That was all me.”

“Of course,” Zoe said. “Even now, I still can’t believe you did that to me. You knew I wanted to go.”

Chloe said nothing. “But,” Zoe continued, “Maybe it was just meant to be. And what’s done is done.”

“But you were an amazing artist, Zoe. And an even better person. I just…ruin things, and you don’t deserve to have me involved in your life—”

“Stop,” Zoe said firmly. “First, you're not a monster. You think you're the only one who has done terrible things? There are other people out there who commit actual crimes and kill people.”

Chloe chuckled sadly. “I could be put in jail for some of the things I have done.”

“That’s not the point. Second, who are you to decide who I keep in my life? That’s not something you can control.”

Chloe deadpanned. “What do you mean? I can ignore you if I want to—”

“Do you want to?”

A pause. 

“I love you, Chloe. You're my sister. However, I will respect your decision if you want me to never contact you again.”

Chloe thought about it. She knew she didn’t deserve anything nice, and told herself constantly to guard her heart. Love was a futile emotion that took up too much room for success, drive, and determination. 

But, she thought, tears welling up once more, It feels nice to have someone. Someone to talk to, someone to take me to my house, and comb my hair back as I throw up. Someone to wave to. Someone to tell me that I matter.

Someone. 

Chloe shook her head, dazed. It hit her that she had been lying to herself this entire time, and it only took eight years to realize it.

“No,” she said, voice broken. “No, I don’t want to ignore you. Because I missed you, too.”

Zoe’s eyes prickled with more tears. “Good.” Then, she hugged Chloe tightly. Chloe returned the embrace, clinging to her like she was stranded at sea, with only her sister to hold on to. It was a silent moment: wet patches formed on both their shoulders, and their eyes became red and puffy from their salt tears. Chloe caught a whiff of Zoe’s scent as she buried her face into the crook of her neck. Mint, she thought. It felt weird to get so close to someone where you could smell remnants, but it felt like a calm after the storm of bearing your heart. 

And she was about to do it again. “Zoe?” Chloe said, voice wavering as she unbound herself from the embrace. Zoe pulled away, looking at her with brief questioning. “I’m sorry about everything I have done to hurt you. I can’t demand that you forgive me, and I still have a long way to go. But I’m willing to make an effort and show that I can be the older sister you want me to be. That is,” Chloe continued, “If you still want me in your life.”

Zoe thought about it. Then, she said, “I don’t need you to become my dream version of an older sister. But, I do appreciate the sentiment.”

Chloe’s face fell. “Then, what do you want?”

Zoe smiled. “For you to be there with me. Through the good and the bad. Does that seem like enough?”

Chloe’s face softened. “Yeah.”

Zoe pulled her back into another embrace. Chloe sat in shock, taken aback by the sudden action, but wrapped her arms around Zoe. “I love you,” she whispered to the wind. She then closed her eyes and took in the unknown feeling that was called love. 

Their father’s tombstone watched the scene unfold, finally at peace.

Chapter Text

Chloe woke up feeling like shit the next day. 

The bed felt lumpy as she turned, and a sweat broke out all over her body. Her eyes were puffy, and her mouth tasted dry. 

But her usual mornings always carried a weight that seemed to disappear today. Her brows were relaxed, and her stomach was de-clamped, washing away all worry. What a surprise, she thought, getting up. Probably a fluke. She looked at the clock and heaved herself off the bed. Time to go to work—

“Wait, I’m not coming in today?” Chloe exclaimed in surprise.

“No, dear. I thought I told you that we were closed for today?”

“Oh, I didn’t know.”

A rustle could be heard from the back. Then, with a chipper voice, she said, “Sorry, hun! I thought I had notified you. This normally doesn’t happen…huh. I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen.”

Chloe forced a laugh. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

The phone clicked. Well, now I have nothing to do today , she thought.

It was not a pleasant feeling. Working was a distraction from her personal life, a motive to interact with others and socialize. Without it…

Maybe that could change, Chloe thought, and pondered giving Zoe a call. They could walk around the park in Paris, or grab some dinner at one of those fine Italian restaurants Chloe had never gotten to try (mainly because she hated getting a table for one). Maybe she’ll say yes. However, as she was about to press CALL, Chloe felt creeping doubt. What if she is busy? What if she isn’t ready for this sort of thing? I mean, it's been less than 24 hours since we made up, which doesn’t erase six years of problems—

She set the phone down and sighed heavily. Her head pounded even more, and her eyes felt heavy. No…it wouldn’t do to get worried about this. Let’s just take this day by day. Besides, I don’t feel up to it right now. 

With that thought in mind, Chloe sat on her couch and closed her eyes in the lonely apartment. 

The morning rain from earlier had subsided. It was early afternoon at this point, and Chloe felt hot, disgusting, and overall very horrible when she woke up. Body aches possessed her body, her throat became sore, and her hands became clammy. Was she catching a cold? Chloe got up and went to the bathroom to get a swab thermometer, located in the small mirror cabinet to her right. Then, swiping the device across her beady forehead, she looked at the temperature; her eyes widened slightly. 102 degrees?! This is more than a fever.

She scoured the compartments, quickly realizing that the only thing she had handy was a pack of ibuprofen. Groaning, she grabbed her coat, slid on her slippers, and reluctantly headed to the pharmacy. 

The pharmacy was a little over three blocks away, but it felt like 4 miles to her. Chloe knew that her fever was getting worse; many people looked over their shoulders with concern. I must look like a hunchback zombie , she thought, huffing as she walked. Despite how crazy she must have looked, it did not stop her from checking out some powerful cough medicine and allergy suppressants. She was sure it was allergies. Right? , she thought with worry. It was hard for her to think clearly. 

The cold wind blew softly against her face when she walked out of the pharmacy.  I should walk around the city, Chloe thought, looking briefly at the bright blue sky. It might help with my fever. 

Summertime was approaching quickly at this point in time. Although Paris is constantly active year-round, it’s only amplified during the summer months. Chloe remembered the lines that would stretch out the door at Montagu’s Munches , the jam-packed roads, and the smell of gasoline. Like, being in a sea of people…

And yet, I have no friends here. 

She turned into a nearby alleyway, trying to escape the crowded streets. It smelled like cigarette buds and booze, but it was okay. At least it's safe during the day. She approached a homeless man’s camp. Bags were piled in a cart, and everything looked dirty. Dressed in a grey sweatshirt and dirty black joggers, the man looked at her expectantly, holding a sign that said, PLEASE HELP ME, I LOST MY HOME. Something tugged at her heart, but she knew the only help she could give was a polite smile and a curt nod. 

The shortcut was almost complete, and she was almost out of the corridor when a hand caked in filth grabbed her wrist firmly.  

Her feverish state subsided, and a blossom of panic now arose. Chloe whirled around to face the same homeless man. A crazed look filled his eyes, and his teeth were few as he spoke. “Ma’am, please,” he wheezed, the smell of nicotine permeating the air. “Can you spare a few dollars?” 

Chloe struggled against his grip. “Please,” he said, voice breaking. “I have nothing.”

“Sir, please let go of my arm,” she breathed.

“Please help me!”

“Will you let go of me—”

A loud whine filled the alleyway, and the homeless man looked back. “What was that?” Chloe said to herself.

The homeless man’s eyes flickered back, frown deepening. He let go of her arm and motioned for her to follow him. They walked back over to his spot, and he crouched slowly, knees cracking. Then, he pulled a thin blue blanket back; an old, wire-haired dachshund was curled into a little ball. The dog was incredibly skinny, with bones exposed, its left ear was crooked, and its brown eyes were hollow. 

“This is Prince,” the homeless man said. “He’s about ten, and I adopted him a couple of years back at the shelter,” he said, petting the inside of Prince’s ear. “They found him on the streets one night, you know? According to the shelter, the previous owner was very neglectful of him and sold him after the shelter brought him back home. You should have seen Prince when I first brought him home. It took some time for him to get used to me, a lot of bitin’. He’s a good dog, though.” Tears pricked in his eyes. “But I don’t know how I am going to take care of him now.”

The man smoothed the crown of Prince’s head and looked at her with pleading in his eyes. “Would you like to buy him from me?” 

Chloe’s lips thinned. Chloe stared at the little dog. She was tight on money, and this dog looked old, scruffy, and a little mean. However, her mother’s voice echoed in her head. Nothing more than a broken toy , she said. 

She locked eyes with the man, fierce with determination. “How much are you asking?”

“I’ll sell him for fifty.”

Chloe pulled out her wallet and handed him a hundred. “Keep it,” she said before he could object, taking the sticky leather leash as the homeless man coaxed Prince out of his blanket. The little dog teetered with every step he took, clearly on the brink of starvation. They got to her apartment, with the little dog inevitably curled in her embrace, peacefully sleeping. 

“What happened to your arms?” 

Chloe, who was organizing clothing, paused and looked at her arms. “Oh, that was Prince,” she said casually, “I tried to wash him today, and it was an ordeal. ”

And there was evidence to show. Bite marks were scattered all over her arm, and there were scratches so deep that it burned to pour rubbing alcohol over. At least I got my tetanus shot , she thought, resuming her daily routine of reorganizing the clothing. 

Luka scratched his head. “Geez, he’s a little ferocious.”

“Tell me about it. Little guy can’t sit still for more than five seconds.”

“Reminds me of someone I know,” Luka said, laughing. Chloe narrowed her eyes and turned away from him. “You can always call me, you know? These types of activities may require a two-man team.” 

“I can handle myself.”

“Really?”

She paused for a minute. He raised a brow, coaxing her to agree with him. “Alright, fine,” she said, chuckling. “If you insist. You may need armguards, though.”

“Noted.”

The silence settled for a few minutes. “So,” Luka started, “How’s the clothing business idea coming along?”

Chloe sighed heavily. “Not good.”

“Why is that?”

“There’s so much that is incorporated in starting a business,” Chloe started. “Branding, marketing, inventory, understanding the actual market , trends, investing…it just seems that every avenue I take requires a bucketful of money that I do not quite have yet. It also does not help that Paris is the fashion capital of the world, and that I’ll be competing against big household names, along with thousands of other shops, physical and online.” 

Chloe licked her lips, dry. “I can barely afford to get by. It just seems quite lofty and silly to think about starting my own independent business, with no degree or experience in that area—”

“It’s not silly, dear.”

The voice came from the back room. Anarka Couffaine, with her hands on her hips, pouted with determination. “You are being ridiculous,” she started, “For giving up before the idea becomes reality.”

Chloe was about to speak; however, Anarka cut in. “I get it. You're afraid of risk. Why spend hard-earned money on a dream that may bear little success, potentially out-competed by big corporations? Why pursue something that seems impossible?”

“Exactly—”

“But passion is a gift that isn’t given to anyone,” she continued. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. “After my divorce, I never believed I could recover. There were nights I would turn to the side, only to see a ghost of where my husband used to be. I felt that I amounted to nothing, that I wasted my life latching onto fleeting love that wore away over time.” 

Luka’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Anarka’s eyes glistened. “I was not happy,” she stated. “I felt a pit in my stomach that I thought would never mend. But…it was antiques that saved me from spiraling any further. They were like windows into the past; with the right polish, cleaning, and mending, the preserved history can shine through. I was immediately interested and began to collect them.”

“I cannot begin to describe the feeling of fulfillment it gives me when someone loves and appreciates antiques the way I do; it’s why I started this shop in the first place. 

"Let me tell you a story. There was a young woman who worked a regular nine-to-five office job. Very nice girl; was put together, had a stable income. She walked into my store that day, and she scoured around. Almost an hour she was in there, I am sure! But, eventually, she settled on a rock. I asked her if she found what she was looking for.”

Anarka paused, reminiscing. “She said she didn’t. That she got the rock because it looked ‘pretty cool’. Only then did I realize the lackluster look in her eyes. That’s when I realized that having a passion for anything, whether it is one thing or all things, is such a gift that people rarely like to indulge in. That girl looked so unhappy, even when she could afford pretty things. So why give up on an idea that seems to light up that spark in your eye every time I hear you talk about it?”

Chloe looked at her shoes. “What if I don’t have the time?”

“You make the time.”

Her eyes still pointed to the floor. “I don’t have money for a marketing representative. How will I effectively advertise my product?”

“There’s always another way,” Anarka said. “It just requires thinking outside of the box.”

She closed her eyes. “I don’t have a good reputation. I have no connections. Or a degree in—”

“Bullshit. You're making up excuses.”

“Why are you so persistent with me?”

“Because I see myself in you.”

Anarka put a hand on Chloe’s shoulder. “You may think you amount to nothing. You may have a bad reputation at the moment. But tomorrow is always an opportunity to clean that slate and forge yourself into something new.”

The store smelled like sweet dust. “Look at me,” she commanded. 

Finally, Chloe looked up. 

“What are you going to do now?” 

Chloe was raised to play it safe. Her father reigned as champion in politics and provided her with stability and luxury goods.  All while he abandoned film-making, something he loved and was...quite frankly good at. She remembered looking through her father's film box, watching the only movie he ever produced. Watching a dream that would only come true in another universe. 

She vowed never to end up like him. She would become someone new, someone better.

So there was no room for question; it was obvious what Chloe had to do. “I need to go," she said, as she quickly crossed the room, a determined look pinned on her face. Then, she took her purse, marked off her hours, and left the store. 

Luka quietly swore. “Why did you egg her on like that? She was supposed to close tonight,” he said. 

Anarka just smiled and said nothing.

The sunlight hit Chloe as she knocked the door down, quickly carving through the crowds. From a rational point of view, she just left work, and it was stupid to be doing this now. I could do this later, she thought. I should go back , her brain told her. Her feet would not listen, though, as they hit the pavement with kinetic effect. Something in her gut told her that if she did not do this now, who knows when she’ll do it later. 

That rush of energy immediately left her system when she arrived at Zoe Lee’s doorstep. Chloe caught her breath; thank goodness she had her address. She knocked on the door twice before someone answered it. 

“Chloe?” Zoe said, taken aback slightly.

“Are you free?”

“Um, yeah, I don’t have to work today. What’s up?”

“I need some advice on something. Can I come in?”

“Sure…” She left the door open, and Chloe stepped inside. 

The hallways were narrow and tall as Zoe led her to the living room, which was a spacious area with a synthetic hardwood floor and a fifties-style decor. Quite different from Zoe’s wild early 2000s makeup, long, layered shag cut with pink tips, and grunge-like attire. 

Chloe also noticed the four different piercings on both ears. “When did you get those done?” she asked. 

Zoe looked back at her. “My ears? Oh, I did them myself a couple of years back.”

“Was it painful?”

“No. A needle and a cork are all you need.”

Chloe squirmed. I could barely handle getting one piercing done. How the hell do people like Zoe and Luka handle that?

Both women sat on the taupe couch. “So,” Zoe whistled, “What did you want to talk about?”

Chloe paused, rubbing her fingers together. Then, “Well, over the past week, I’ve been thinking about running a clothing line, shop, whatever. But I just don’t know where to start. I was wondering if you could direct me on the right path?”

Zoe looked away, lips pursed. “Why did you ask me about this?” 

“Well,” Chloe continued, “I’ve seen your custom shoe shop on Instagram, and I figured you would be the right person to talk to.”

Zoe looked at her with shock. Chloe laughed awkwardly. “I didn’t know that you could design shoes. They look incredible, I hope you know that.”

Zoe’s eyes shone, nodding thank you , before her face turned serious. “To answer your question, I suggest you take it one step at a time. In your statement earlier, I noticed you were quite indecisive on the topic of branding.”

“Branding?”

“Yeah, it is an identity that you stick with, and is the core of what your business stands for. Every business has one.”

Zoe continued. “For example, my branding is focused on the vibrant colors and the abstract notion of my designs, as well as using grunge-related branded shoes. That way, I can appeal to the target audience of people who prefer skater, grunge, or even goth aesthetics.”

“I see,” Chloe thought, taking notes mentally. 

“When I first started, I wrote down a mission statement that encompassed what I stood for, who I am, and what I do. That way, I had a blueprint for any other future business decisions.

I also noticed that when you asked your question, you seemed indecisive about how you want to sell your product and whether you want it commercialized. Think about that too. Also, are you okay?”

Chloe’s eyebrows were furrowed tightly, and her jaw was clenched. “What?” she asked.

“You just look constipated. If you need to go to the bathroom, I can show you where it is.”

“Oh, sorry,” Chloe said, relaxing her face, “I was just focused, that’s all.”

Zoe looked at her, dumbfounded, then laughed heartily. “Oh my gosh!” she said, “You looked so scary!”

“Sorry,” Chloe grumbled, and crossed her arms. 

“It’s okay,” Zoe said, getting up. “We can continue this conversation later. You want something to eat?”

Chloe sighed, a small smile playing on her lips. “Sure.”

After a nice dinner and a lengthy conversation, Chloe headed home to her apartment. The sound of quickened, scattered feet sounded from inside as she entered. Prince, her dog, slid across the floor with little traction, with a lopsided smile on his face. Someone’s excited that I am here , she thought, as she crouched down low and welcomed Prince, scratching his crooked ear. He huffed a little from exhaustion, emitting death breath that permeated the air. 

Her nose scrunched. “Your breath smells,” she lightly scolded, and she walked towards the cupboard with all of his pet stuff. Her hand wandered to the bag that had green, stretchy-like bones that were made to clean his teeth. She took a bone and gave it to Prince. He snatched it eagerly and quickly ran away towards her room to munch. A chuckle escaped from her mouth before she grabbed some notebook paper and a pen. Zoe told her to write out a mission statement, no matter how long it is. So, she twirled her pen, stared at the page in sheer focus, and began to reflect. 

She thought about her childhood first, and those lazy rainy days. Her mind drifted over to her college years, when she would alter dresses for young women and re-purpose her own clothes. Then, her thoughts walked towards the memory of her mother’s words over the phone. “I usually don’t even invest in people who are broken toys like yourself,” she whispered to herself, enunciating every word slowly. 

Those words stung bitterly that day, and they still do now. She wished to tell her mother that it wasn’t true, that she was more than the analogy that Audrey boxed her in. But she didn’t, and might never, have the courage or the heart to. It was quite true, after all.

She glanced at the new project sprawled on her living room floor, fabricated by scraps she found in one of the fabric stores. It wasn’t looking too great; some ends needed to be cut, and a few more stitches to hold it together. However, there was a vision, an idea that the material, once rejected, could be repurposed to become something…better. New.  

Suddenly, a fire ignited in her core, hot and strong. 

And so, she began to write.  

Interlude

It was late in the night when Lila awoke from her light nap.

The entangled limbs of her and Felix lay together in bed, skin to skin. She groaned with exhaustion, for today was quite busy. First, she worked at the club for nine hours, and then had to entertain Felix for about three hours. Despite the chaos that ensued, Lila did not even realize it was dark until she looked out the full-length black-framed windows, moonlight spilling into the room. 

She did not know sex could be this time-consuming. She should have been home hours ago. 

The moon, somehow, made things that were once sharp soft and pleasing to the eye. Nuzzled to his chest, Lila looked up at Felix, who was asleep. His face always had a hard, set look, like he wanted to conquer something. However, seeing him this close, the furrow lines dissipated, and his jaw seemed softened. She could feel the steady rhythm of his chest rising and falling, and wondered if she could lie here for a moment longer.

But she must not delay her request. That's why she was here, after all.

“Felix,” she whispered, tracing little circles on his chest. He woke up, his green eyes slightly fuzzy from sleep. 

Her heart almost fluttered. It was like sleeping with Adrien Agreste himself. 

“What time is it?”

“Almost one.”

Felix sighed heavily. “Is it something of urgency?”

Lila averted her gaze, downcast. “No,” she said, “Sorry I said anything.”

She shifted her body away from Felix and lay on her side. Come on, she thought, take the bait already. 

In an instant, she heard a frustrated grunt. Then, arms wrapped around her torso. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I just…get snappy when I am tired.”

She looked back. “It’s okay.”

“What was that favor you wanted?”

Lila hummed, peeling off his hands and exiting the large bed. “Well, I’m thinking about quitting my job, and I was wondering…” She halted at the window, the moonlight engulfing her naked body. “Maybe you had some openings?” 

Felix looked at her with a pensive expression. “What do you mean?”

“I’m thinking about looking for a job at Gabriel. Are there any openings for a secretary?”

“I don’t think so…”

“Then make one for me,” she started. 

“I can’t.”

Lila pouted innocently. “Don’t you co-own Gabriel ?”

Felix swung his legs over the ledge. “Yes. However, Adrien is the one who oversees HR. He would not be happy if I meddled in his business.”

Lila sighed lightly. “I see.” She then turned to him, arms crossed, head cocked to the side. “I guess we’ll have to find another way to get the inheritance money.”

Felix gritted his teeth. “I—”

Suddenly, Lila sauntered over to him and pushed him back on the bed. 

“Whoa, what’s—”

She then crawled on top of him and laid on her stomach. “I just don’t know how else we are going to do this,” she said, pinning his arms above his head. Felix’s face heated; Lila’s was cold and calculating. Come on now, she thought. Please let this work. But Felix needed one more push. So, with one arm gripping his wrists, her other hand cupped his neck seductively. Then, she brought his face to her lips and traced his jawline with her tongue. He sighed from pleasure. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, breath hitching.

Lila's heart swelled with joy. “Good. Let me know when it’s opened up.”

Then, she leaned in and kissed his wet mouth. 

They tussled around the sheets for half an hour before subsiding to rest, curling up in opposite corners of the bed. 

“Lila,” he whispered to the dark, eyes flickering to her back.

“Yeah?”

“Is there another reason why you want the job?”

Lila paused. 

“Based on what you told me before, wasn’t your job a good gig?”

“Hell no,” she laughed bitterly. “Selling my body to patrons who give me nothing but dimes? Please.” 

“Oh,” he breathed, surprised by the sharpness of her tone. “I didn’t know.”

“Was that all you wanted to ask me?”

“I guess.”

Felix debated crossing the bed and kissing the crook of her neck. Telling her it would be alright. 

But he didn’t. Instead, he said, “If it helps, I…I always thought you could do better than that job.”

Lila smiled softly. “Thank you. Goodnight, Felix.”

“Night.”

Silence filled the room as she pulled the covers closer. Usually, their nights together were dangerous, steamy, and sexy to the core. Usually, they would be too exhausted to talk, and Lila would head home after midnight. Tonight was different from the others, and she couldn’t tell whether or not she liked it. 

Sleeping in the same bed, intimate embraces, and talking to someone who was a little like her. It doesn’t matter, she thought. This will all be over once I get access to that money. 

Lila looked over at Felix, her eyes meeting his well-defined back. “It really does suck though,” she said, so quiet she couldn’t even hear it. 

It was the only truth she would ever say out loud. 

Chapter Text

Olivia Allard did not usually venture out this late at night, especially in the unspoken underbelly of Paris. 

She was heading back home from a night out with some co-workers who worked for Gabriel . They went to a local pub across the street, a quaint location, tucked into the crook of a large restaurant with a breathtaking skyline view and overgrown shrubbery. She did not drink as the night went on and felt quite uncomfortable in the setting she was in. Olivia cursed herself for even going with the group in the first place, for she did not know her peers very well, a cost to the job title she held in the company. 

Olivia worked a regular nine-to-five as Adrien’s secretary, coordinating his schedule, handling almost all of his communication with business partners, and running his errands. Everyone called her his lapdog, a sharp, meticulous woman who was shrewd in her ways. She didn’t care much, though, because she lived comfortably on her salary. Though becoming his unofficial PR manager recently was an unexpected occurrence. And a cheaper one, at that , she thought, scoffing lightly. She should be getting a raise soon, as her limits were being tested by the day with his new shenanigans. 

Despite working with a high-profile client like him, Olivia lived an ordinary life. She was thirty-three, happily single, lived in a cozy flat, owned three dogs and a cat; these animals both tried her patience and stole all of her affection every day. She never cared for social relationships, nor did she have any qualms with anyone. She wakes up, goes to work, hangs out with her pets afterwards, sleeps, and repeats the cycle. It was a quiet life, sure, but she never wanted anything more or less.

But something tipped her suspicions tonight. Perhaps it was because the lights were dim, or perhaps it was because she was walking alone in the dark streets of Paris; however, she had a feeling that something was amiss. 

Stop these thoughts, Olivia thought, shaking her head. I’ve just never liked the dark, that's all. 

She turned to the well-lit flat complex and sighed. See? Nothing bad happened—

 A rustle emerged from the bushes. 

She turned around, facing the shrubbery. What was—

The sound of a gun erupted, and a flash of silver caught her eye before it hit her in the chest. 

It was 3:15 in the morning.

BANG! BANG!

Chloe jolted from her sleep, heart hammering in her chest. What the fuck was that? 

With the ringing in her ears refusing to subside, it was hard to think straight. Was there a gunfight in the middle of the street?  The fleeting thought made her hands tremble, and she pulled the covers over her head. 

Something was most definitely wrong. 

Despite the overwhelming confusion and potentially frightening situation, curiosity got the better of her. She wanted to investigate. Cautiously, she got out of her bed and crossed the room. She pushed a curtain back with one hand, careful not to make any rash movements, and peered out. 

It was very dark outside; almost no lights were on. This was normal because most people are not out during this time, and the city needed to shut off electricity for an hour. However, what was not normal was what looked to be a crumpled-up body by a set of stairs. 

Her breath hitched, and she shut the curtains violently. Quickly, she hid under the covers and went to sleep.

The flash of police lights arrived while she was sound asleep. 

“...Moving on to today’s breaking news, Olivia Allard, a thirty-three-year-old white woman and secretary of the CEO of Gabriel Agreste, was reported dead at 3:13 in the morning last night. She was found in the 2nd arrondissement, crumpled on the stairs of her home. She was shot twice in the chest, severing an artery in the process. Doctors noted that this specific artery pumped blood to her heart, causing an immediate loss of function in the body. Investigators are still trying to find the suspect…”

The buzz of the TV played in the background as Chloe rushed towards the venue's kitchen, a pile of deep dishes in her hands. 

Today marked the second day of the Paris Expo at the Porte de Versailles exhibition center in Paris. The Paris Expo, a four-day event, was a massive convention where numerous designers, caterers, conference organizers, and other trade show exhibitors showcased their products in person. There were guest speakers, live art shows, and musicians who drew in large crowds. Overall, it was a popular attraction to tourists and a great way to promote smaller businesses to a larger audience. 

The catering business Zoe worked for was one of the many food service businesses that registered for this event and were desperately looking for extra workers to set up, take down, and buss tables. It was a perfect opportunity for Chloe; she was low on money and was tired of penny-pinching every day. Plus, it also allowed her to observe how people marketed their products. 

Although she has never had a chance to do so today. 

Sweat broke out across her forehead as she set the dishes down on the counter next to the sink. Ugh, she thought. I’ve never had to move this much in my life. Gosh, is this what normal people do?

Chloe sank her hands in the water before quickly pulling them out. It was scalding hot. 

She curled her hands together, trying to numb the pain. “Shit—”

“Chloe, someone’s here for you!” Zoe called. A quizzical expression crossed her face when she saw Chloe’s reaction. “Are you okay?”

Chloe hid her hands behind her back. “Yeah…wait, who's here?”

“Um…he’s tall, lean, cute face, aesthetically emo?”

Oh, he’s here, she thought. “Okay, I’ll be there. Let me just wash my hands, and—” Chloe briefly paused, untying her apron and draping it over Zoe’s shoulder, “—be back in fifteen minutes.”

“You're using your lunch break now? It’s only been two hours since you started your shift.”

Chloe shrugged. “It’s basically lunchtime. And I’m starving. Later.”

With that, she left, joining Luka by the entrance of the venue. Zoe huffed, a playful smile on her lips. “Sure,” she breathed, as she headed back to work.

Chloe and Luka stopped at a food truck vendor first before checking out the booths. It was by no means a gourmet meal; both got hot dogs, and though overpriced, they were fat and delicious. 

Chloe wiped off the ketchup on the corner of her mouth delicately. “Wow,” she muttered. 

Luka looked at her, a smug smile on his lips. “I thought you didn’t like hot dogs.”

“I don’t like boiled hot dogs,” she said pointedly. “There’s a difference.”

“That was a boiled hot dog.”

Chloe opened her mouth, then closed it. 

“Pbt–”

“Don’t laugh,” Chloe said, heat creeping up her face. “Not my fault I don’t know my hot dogs.”

“At least tell me you know what a brat is?”

“Yes, I’m not stupid.”

“Prove it.”

Chloe paused for a minute. “Doesn’t it have cheese inside?” she said out of the corner of her mouth. 

Luka’s mouth clamped shut, holding back his laughter. 

She looked at his slipping composure and sighed. “I’m wrong, aren’t I?”

“You obviously grew up on filet mignon.”

Chloe scoffed, smiling lightly. “You're right about that. I had it at least three times a week when I was younger.”

They walked down the corridors of the massive building, unaware of where exactly they were going. 

Chloe chewed on the hot dog. “I meant to ask, but what brought you here anyway?”

“I’m here for support. You know the band KittySection?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got a couple of good friends who are in the group. Ivan and Mylene are their names. And, my younger sister’s girlfriend is their lead singer.”

“Juleka is your sister, right?”

Luka paused. “Yeah, how did you know?”

“I saw her.”

He quirked a brow. “Oh, right!” he exclaimed. “I forgot you got lost on Christmas Eve.”

“That was embarrassing.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is! I used to live here for Christ’s sake!”

“Wait, really?” Luka questioned. “How come I never saw you around?”

“I moved after my sophomore year.”

“Where did you go to school?”

“Françoise Dupont High School.”

“That’s how you know my sister!” He looked at her with sudden clarity. “So, you must know Mylene and Ivan!”

“Yeah…”

Tension coursed through her veins, stopping her movement. Luka looked at her, questioning. "Why did you stop?"

Chloe heaved a sad sigh. It was hard to bring up old wounds; despite her previous convictions to rebuild herself, it felt so easy to tear herself apart. “There's something you should know-"

The faint sound of an electric keyboard echoed through the room; both heads turned. “Looks like the live music is starting,” Chloe spluttered. “Want to check it out?”

“Sure,” Luka said, walking towards the sound.

They passed the other booths that lined the sides. One of these stalls included a glassblower who wasn’t selling too much merchandise. Of course, Chloe didn’t particularly care. 

But maybe she should have.

For his frustration, so pernicious and resolute, attracted the sense of an akumatized butterfly.

They made their way to the large, open space where the live music was held. 

It was a whispering gallery-structured room, with the chairs cleared from the floor. Ornate carvings lined the walls, pillars jutted out of the wall, two entrances guarded by velvet curtains were placed in opposite corners, and a large stained glass window covered the majority of the roof. 

The stage was solid black, with wheels bolted to the hard floor. A series of wires lined the floor, varying in size, and seven loudspeakers were positioned throughout the room. 

And you can’t forget the number of people in that room. 

It was a crowded space, with little wiggle room to do any actual dancing. Some sang the lyrics, but most pumped their arms in the air and shouted incoherent thoughts. Despite the animality of it all, Chloe thought it looked fun. 

She tiptoed, leering over a man’s shoulder to see who was performing. XY, she thought, as she caught a glimpse of his bright blonde hair. He wasn’t a terrible choice. 

Chloe looked at Luka, who scrutinized the musician with his eyes. “You okay?” she asked, eyebrows pinched. 

That look disappeared. “Yeah,” he said, jaw set. 

I shouldn’t pry, she thought, but asked anyway. “Is there another reason you don’t like XY?”

Luka’s mouth thinned subtly. “It’s nothing. I just don’t like his music, that’s all.”

Chloe eyed him suspiciously. Okay, now I shouldn’t pry. 

 Then, she looked back at the singer. Currently, he was saying sweet nothings to a pair of teenage girls in the front row. His eyes had a performative spark, his clothes didn’t fit his character, and his lips spoke false realities, lyrics that sounded good on paper, but sounded forced. The girls swooned, indulging in his meticulously crafted persona. 

It felt soulless. 

A frown crossed her face. Chloe decided she didn’t XY anymore in that moment. 

She turned away. “What a fool,” she whispered, walking past Luka. He followed suit, matching her pace. 

They walked in silence before they stumbled across another interesting event. It was a raffle, where the winner would get an all-paid trip to London, and get to attend London Fashion Week on the weekend. The second part, in Chloe’s opinion, was the better part. Despite being in a reputable family, she never attended any events at fashion week. It was always a dream of hers when she was younger to go to one of those events. She loved seeing how creative and out-of-the-box people could get. 

Nowadays, Chloe could only hope she could go, for she would never have the funds anyway. 

As they approached the booth, she knew her chances of winning were slim to none. First, her luck was horrible; second, the bin was filled to the brim with entries. It was pointless to spend twenty euros on ten raffle tickets. Chloe would call that overpriced even.

Nevertheless, she forked over her money for a shot anyway. It was for a good cause, for 40 percent of the money went to the Paris Animal Shelter. 

“So,” Luka started, “What time do you have to get back again?”

Chloe glanced at her phone. “In two minutes.”

They were still at the opposite end of where the catering venue was supposed to be. Shit, she thought. I need to be back at work. 

“Let’s hurry back,” she said firmly, and began to walk quickly. 

Many would say she was jogging, but Chloe found this to be hardly the case. She was merely quick-stepping it, a term she coined to replace ‘speedwalking.’

She was happy that the walking class in college came in handy. 

Her body whipped around like a willow, narrowly avoiding head-on collisions with any bodies. Luka followed behind, struggling to keep up as his shoulder bumped into someone.

 “Why are you walking so fast?” he said, panting a little. 

“I’m not walking fast.”

“Yes, you are.”

“What are you talking about?” she said, turning back. “This is how I—”  

Chloe ran face-first into another person. 

She backed away, pinching her nose. “Sorry,” she grunted, before looking up. 

“It’s okay.”

“I should have been looking—”

Her words died on her lips.

It was Nathanial Kurtzburg. He looked almost the same as he did in high school: lanky frame, short, long, dyed red hair that was currently pulled back into a manbun, and stark blue eyes. However, the guy also looked paler, had grown some light facial hair, sported a nose ring, and wore a smoky eyeshadow look that emphasized his eyes. She also caught a glimpse of a tattoo on his chest, visible by the way his shirt hung loose. He wore the look well. 

“Nathaniel,” she breathed. 

He studied her for a quick minute before letting out a shocked breath. “Chloe Bourgeois?” She didn’t have time to respond before his gaze swept over and landed on Luka. A smile plastered his face. “Luka! Nice to see you, how’ve you been?”

Luka shook his hand, grinning. “Doing good, man.”

“You still working at your mum’s shop?”

“Yep.”

“Seems like things haven’t changed too much.”

“How’s the comic business treating you?”

Nathaniel shrugged his shoulders lightly. “Eh. The usual. Long hours at the studio and a bunch of emails. Though—” his eyes met Chloe’s, “—I’m more curious about how you guys got acquainted?”

“She works at my mother’s shop,” Luka said. 

“Really? How’d she get there—”

“That’s none of your business,” Chloe cut in, with an edge to her tone.

Awkward silence filled the room. Then, Nathaniel let out a ghost of a laugh. “You haven’t changed much, Chloe,” he said, a wistful smile on his face. 

She bristled. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, I just meant that—wait, do you want to go see my booth?”

Both Luka and Chloe looked at him, stumped by the sudden turn of conversation. “Yeah, it’s just over there. Marc’s at the register, so I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

“Um, that’s okay—”

“Sure, we’ll check it out,” Luka said, glancing at her. 

“Awesome! I’ll take you there.”

Nathaniel spun on his heel, leading the way while Chloe and Luka strayed behind. 

“You seem kind of tense around him,” Luka whispered from the corner of his mouth. “Was he also in your class?”

“Yes.”

“What did he do?”

“It was more like what I did.”

“What did you do?” he whispered. 

Chloe shifted uncomfortably. “Um…I kinda subjected him to public humiliation at school multiple times.”

Luka’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought I told you already that I was a horrible person,” she shot back defensively. 

“Wow, this is going to be awkward.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

They got to the booth, which was smaller than some of the other ones she passed; however, a crowd of people swarmed the little area. 

She lost her breath when she saw his drawings. 

They all had the same signature, the same style of stroke. Yet, his creations all looked so, so vastly different. In one section, all of his comics lay piled on top of each other; in the section to the right, all his oil paintings were propped on display. The prices all ranged, but there was one constant: all of these pieces were beautiful. 

She stumbled upon a framed comic panel: it was an action scene of two heroes fighting a half-dragon, half eel. It was a messy action shot, with both heroes using their collective fists to take down the foe. But what she found fascinating were the varying pen widths and the different splashes of monochromatic color that portrayed blood.

“I see you stumbled upon one of the comic’s action shots,” Nathaniel said, leering behind her. 

Chloe jolted slightly, trying not to show the heart-stopping fear. 

“Yeah. What motivated you to draw this?”

“Work, mainly,” Nathaniel said, laughing. Then, it grew stoic. “But in all honesty, I stayed motivated because I knew I would get a cathartic feeling when I thought about bringing this to life. You see, it's such a pivotal moment in the story, the climax, and the one scene I knew for sure I was going to draw. I suppose you could say that this one panel inspired me to keep going, no matter how hard it is.”

“This is impressive, Nathanial,” she said, breath shaky with awe. 

“You think so?” Nathaniel said sheepishly, rubbing his arms awkwardly. “I mean, it’s nothing crazy, and definitely not everyone’s cup of tea when it comes to art, but—”

“I hope you know that you shouldn’t undersell your work,” she said, with a serious tone.”

“What do you mean? I don’t undersell it, I just, merely, degrade myself—”

“You know you're good, right? Own it.”

Silence filled the room. “Why do you say that now?” he said, voice even and unreadable. A tightness in his eyebrows formed.

He remembers, she thought. I should have known he wouldn't forget. 

"I-"

"Please, enlighten me."

Chloe chewed on her lip, recalling one memory out of multiple that she vowed to forget. 

Chloe was in her Françoise Dupont physics class. She was in a sour mood that day, for her father did not attend breakfast that day. He was busy running the hotel and political work, getting entangled in the constraints of a stable job. She hated it when he didn’t eat with her. 

Her ear caught the scratch of a pencil—the crunch of paper, the squeak of an eraser. Chloe’s eyes narrowed with agitation. So irritating, she thought. It was Nathanial, the doodler in class, currently working on a drawing that no one would ever see. 

The teacher’s lecture became a blur, and the noise became louder, more grating to her ears, until a hot flash of anger surged through her. She swiftly turned around and snatched his sketchbook, coursing through the pages. 

“Chloe, give it back!” he shouted. 

Everyone turned their eyes towards the pair. 

“I’m just curious…” she said, pouting. She scoffed at a page. “You seriously draw this shit?”

“Chloe, give it back to Nathaniel,” Alya said, jaw set. 

“Why should I? He’s been bothering me all day with his scribbling, might as well see the final product—”

Her eyes landed on a page where Nathaniel was saving Marinette. She was scooped up in his arms and looked at him like he hung the stars. Weirdo, she thought. “Nathaniel, you never told me you were a romantic,” she said, clicking her tongue mockingly. 

His face turned beet red. “Give it back,” he said, lunging. 

“Nathaniel and Marinette, sitting in a tree—”

“I said—”

Chloe laughed condescendingly, holding the sketchbook up in the air. “KISSING! First comes love—”

“Give it back—”

“Chloe, stop!”

Chloe turned to face Marinette. Her cheeks were pink from embarrassment. “Hand it back to Nathaniel, now.”

Chloe gritted her teeth. “Or what?”

Marinette sighed. “I’m trying to get something out of this lesson, and I’m tired of your antics.”

“Why don’t you just move to a different class? Better yet, move to a different school.”

“You're being childish. Just give it back to him!”

Chloe narrowed her eyes and, with a huff, threw the sketchbook on the floor. “Fine,” she said, gritting her teeth, “It’s not like they’re good anyway.”

She went towards the door. “Chloe!” Ms. Bustier said, pleading. “Please don’t leave—”

The door slammed shut, and she left class that day. 

She heard the next day that Nathaniel threw out his sketchbook after that class. After that, she never saw or heard him draw in class again. 

Chloe turned to look at him, eyes filled with emotion. “I was wrong,” she said, voice slightly wavering.

Nathaniel's eyes remained fixed on her. “Your drawings,” she continued, gesturing towards his work, “They’re amazing.”

A slight silence filled before his tight expression softened a little, and he sighed, smiling slightly. “I’m glad you like them, Chloe.”

“Is Marc here?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you guys still together?”

Quickly, Nathaniel tensed up once again. Oh shit, she thought. “I know—”

“Yeah, we are,” he said quickly, hands fiddling together. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence settled. “That came out wrong,” Chloe spluttered, “Shit, sorry. I meant, I was just curious, and…well, you guys are cute together, so…yeah…”

Another awkward silence crossed before Nathaniel laughed. “Oh my gosh, are you the Chloe I know?”

Chloe’s cheeks turned pink. “Yeah, I think so.”

“She would never foot-mouth so badly as you just did!”

“I did not!” she said, a cross look appearing on her face. 

“But, I know what you mean.”

“...Yeah…”

“Well,” he said, smiling widely, “I must say, you changed a lot!”

Chloe was breathless. “What do you mean by that?”

“Hmm, how do I word this…” He scratched his head and replied, “You seem softer.”

Chloe looked at him, certain this man was delusional. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“Okay, maybe that’s not the right word. I guess…” he paused, thinking his words over. “In high school, you had this look in your eye—” He pursed his lips and squinted, trying to imitate her. 

“That’s my resting bitch face,” she said with a monotone voice. 

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is,” she snapped. 

“No, it’s different, I swear!” he said, hands up. 

“I’ve seen myself in a mirror, Nathaniel. I know my resting face.”

“Now hold on there. I draw,” he said, nodding over to the artwork. “A lot, as you know. Now, hear me out.”

She crossed her arms, waiting for his explanation. “Whenever we crossed paths, I noticed consistency in one thing about your body language: power. You had a powerful stride, a forceful voice, and an authoritarian look in your eye. You seemed to have the conviction that you were above all of us.”

Her face softened, shame filling her system. “But,” he continued, “Today, it was different. You didn’t look at me from the top; instead, you looked at me like we were on the same level. That’s how I knew you changed.

“It’s all pointless anyway. What happened in high school happened. All I know is that I’m successful and happy now, and,” he paused, smiling at Marc, “…I think it's important to give people second chances, especially when they grow up. Don’t you think so?” 

Tears began to form at the rims of her eyes. “Nathaniel, you're delusional.”

He sighed tiredly. “Just know that I forgive you, despite what happened in the past.”

“What the hell are you saying—”

“Just take it,” he said firmly. 

She scoffed, smiling weakly. “Okay, fine.”

“Anyways,” Nathanial began, “Are you and Luka an item?”

Chloe’s face dropped. “No, we’re just good friends!”

Nathanial laughed. “Sure. I see the way he looks at you—”

“Stop—”

“I’m just saying—”

BANG! 

An explosive sound rang out throughout the venue. “What was that?” Chloe said, fear creeping into her voice. 

Nathanial’s face grew serious. “I don’t know, but it looks serious. Let’s get out of here—”

A fragment of melting glass was fired their way, barely missing the setup. It destroyed some infrastructure, with broken steel groaning against each other. The situation became dangerous; people began to scream and frantically ran around the building like ants. 

A booming sound erupted. “Fear the wrath of GlassShatter!” it said, as it rides a wave of melded glass. 

Chloe and Nathanial took cover under the booth. 

“A supervillain?” Nathanial said, shocked. “I thought Hawkmoth was defeated. Who could possess that miraculous?”

“Are you even sure it's a villain?” Chloe hissed. 

“You're kidding, right?” Nathanial gestured. “That’s not normal criminal behavior!”

GlassShatter bulldozed through the crowd, destroying every competing venue. Statues of people encapsulated in glass scattered the venue, with shock frozen on their faces. Little children wept in fear, and the event was thrown into chaos. He laughed evilly, relishing in his revenge.

“Why are you running?” he cooed. “Stay! I’ll make you all something nice—”

A yo-yo shot from the air, knocking him on the head. “Ow! Who did that—”

His sentence was cut off once more by a swift kick in the ribs by a lady in spots. 

Chloe peeked from the corner of the table, and a shocked oval formed on her lips. 

The people stopped frantically running and looked up in adoration.

Ladybug and Chat Noir were here. 

After Hawkmoth was defeated five years ago, the famous duo disappeared from the world. Oddly enough, the Ladyblog, the main source of news regarding Paris’ heroes, never reported anything official about their disappearance, which led to people spreading different rumors. Some people said they traveled abroad to fight crime in a different city. Others said they retired. There were even rumors that stated that they were off training at a temple in Shanghai. 

Chloe didn’t believe that rumor; it was a ridiculous notion that someone would work full-time to save cities, and for free on that part. She was a miraculous holder for a short time and never got financial compensation for her work. 

The glassblower threw the first punch. Ladybug dodged to the left, narrowly missing his fist. Then, she moved to the side, and in one swift motion, took his arm and twisted it. 

“YEOW!” the villain shouted in pain. 

Ladybug then slammed him on the glass platform, a loud groan escaping from GlassShatter. She said something to Chat Noir, with the latter nodding. He then fled the scene, using his stick as a pogo stick. 

Ladybug retrieved a mysterious object and crushed it under her feet. A dark item, which Chloe assumed was an akuma, fluttered out of the broken thing and spent three seconds in the air before it was captured. 

She threw her lucky charm in the air, shouted her iconic phrase, and unleashed her power of creation. The magic swirled around the damaged infrastructure and transformed the destroyed stands to replicate what it was before. It was like nothing happened, and all was well. 

But Chloe could have sworn she saw a flash of brief look of unsettlement on Ladybug’s face. Odd , she thought, before crawling out of the hiding place. 

They observed as the people cheered the heroic act. Ladybug waved confidently, smiling. Chat Noir joined her, along with the police, ready to take him to the police.

It had been a while since an akumatization had last happened, but the rule didn’t change. The police needed a written statement on the process of their coercion; since most victims are innocent people, they would be released on two conditions: that they wouldn’t do this again, and wear an akuma tether for two months every day. 

Sometimes, they would be sentenced if someone pressed charges and made a strong case, and while rare, it has happened. Mr. Pigeon, who had been akumatized 72 times, had to be sent to jail on account of assault for five years. 

The glassblower, who had a scattered, confused face, was taken away from the scene. 

“Rest assured, citizens,” Ladybug said, voice booming. “The man has been safely handed over to the authorities. Please resume your usual activities. Bug out!” 

With a swing, Ladybug fled from the scene. Chat Noir looked at her, infatuated, then left the scene. 

Chloe rolled her eyes internally, smiling. He still likes her, she thought. But, also, who wouldn’t?

She’s pretty. Smart. Strong. Confident. Determined. A resolute leader, yet would still listen to the other miraculous holders and their concerns. 

As a teen, and to this day, Chloe wanted to be someone like her, for a woman like her comes rarely. She seemed like an unshakable force of nature. 

It was hard to dismiss the look that crossed Ladybug’s face, however.

“Chloe?”

Her eyes followed the voice. It was Luka, and his hands were on his knees. Blood trickled down his hand, penetrating through his jeans. 

“What the hell happened to you?” she said, a twinge of concern laced in her tone. 

He sat up straight, looking at his hand. “Oh, this happened during the akumatization. I tripped, and my hand landed on some loose glass. But—” he winced, pressing on the wound, “It kind of hurts.”

“Wait, what?”

“I tripped—”

“No, not that. I meant, your cut still exists.”

“Why would I be in complete agony if I didn’t slice my hand on glass? ” he hissed.

“Okay, okay,” Nathaniel said, breaking the conversation. “I think I get it.”

Both paused to listen to him. “Ladybug’s power is creation, right? Not only does she have the power to summon an object to aid her in a fight, but she also has the power of restoration. Basically, anything that was affected by the akumatized villain would revert to how it originally was. This includes buildings that were destroyed, items that were maimed, and injuries sustained from said akuma attack. Your hand was an injury that should have healed during restoration, but for some reason, it didn’t. Which is very, very odd.”

“Isn’t it odd as well that an akuma was even present in the first place?” Chloe stated. “Wasn’t Hawkmoth defeated? Didn’t the police confiscate the miraculous?”

“Actually, according to some news outlets, the butterfly miraculous was not taken to the police directly. Gabriel Agreste was taken to the police station a day later.”

“So someone else has it,” Luka said aloud. “Who could it be?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe said hesitantly, “But let's not look further into it. This kind of stuff always leads to trouble.”

Chloe left the venue shortly after that incident. She didn’t care if the manager of Zoe’s catering company hated her guts for walking out; the akuma attack left a damper on her time there. Nevertheless, she was glad she went; she learned a lot about media advertising from other designers, and got a caricature drawn by Nathaniel. 

She unfolded the piece of paper, his pencil smearing a little on the paper. However, she didn’t care one bit. It was something she was going to treasure. 

A slight breeze ruffled her hair as she stepped out of the venue and walked in the well-lit streets of Paris. 

When she got near some apartment buildings, a fuzzy shadow caught her eye. Then, a murmur: “Spots off.”

Chloe tried to avoid looking in that direction because she knew that was Ladybug. But, innate curiosity seized her in the last minute, and she looked anyway. 

It was only briefly, merely three seconds. 

Three seconds was all she needed to inhale sharply and quickly walk away. 

Three seconds was all it took to figure out Ladybug’s identity. 

Three seconds was all it took to realize that the hero she idolized the most was a girl she used to hate the most. And still does to this day. 

Interlude

Marinette ended up de-transforming in an alleyway, engulfed by building shadows cast by the high sun. There was a small chance that someone could see her, like every single time she’s de-transformed. But it’s never happened , she thought. And the chances will be especially low today, with all the tourists at the Paris Expo.

But that was the least of her worries. Her main source of panic arose from what happened today; her magic did not quite work on everyone. Marinette noticed this when she waved to the crowd, analyzing the bruises and cuts that appeared on people’s bodies. Fear and worry crept into her unshakable heart. Was she getting weaker? Was it because it had been a while? After all, it had been years since she used her miraculous. 

Right now, she needed to figure out how to fix this issue because this could not happen again. 

She got lucky this time. But, how much longer will it be until her luck runs out, and blood gets spilled on her hands?

She’ll ask Adrien about it later when they're both home.  

Marinette pulled out the note tucked into her hair. She read it again, eyebrows knit, scrutinizing every word. 

Tikki, her kwami, settled on her shoulder. “This doesn’t sound good, Marinette,” she said, her high voice wavering. “I think we need to find this person sooner rather than later.”

Chapter Text

Chloe approached her door, shoes filled with lead and eyes ready to fall out of her sockets. 

This can’t be real, she thought, hand resting on the doorknob, and opening the door. Prince scurried towards her, his hind legs gliding over the floor slightly, and pounced on her legs. Chloe knelt, scratching him under his ear; Chloe could only give a ghost of a smile. At least this doesn't change. 

She set her bags down by the kitchen counter and sank into the couch face-first, inhaling the scent of dog fur.  It was still mid-afternoon, and—

Chloe swore, remembering that she had just walked out of her job today. Zoe’s not going to be too happy about that. Whatever, she thought, slowly getting up and moving blankets, I need to take a break anyway. 

 A break to unwind her whole day, and the truth bomb she just uncovered. 

Marinette was Ladybug. The Ladybug that saved civilians, defeated Hawkmoth, and was a symbol of hope and peace for all.

Chloe had so many questions: When did she become Ladybug? Why did she get the role? Moreover, how has no one discovered her true identity sooner? 

She began to fold the many blankets that covered the floor, as her mind rewound to when she first met Ladybug. It was on the upper deck of her father’s hotel, and there was a villain on the loose…

A sixteen-year-old Chloe Bourgeois sat on a chaise, flipping through the hottest Gossip Girl magazine. The ice in her lemonade subtly clinked, melting under the sun; the plants were withering slightly, a long pool the color of teal. It was almost tempting to dip her toes in; however, she just put on a spray tanner. Her father never liked it when she did it and said it was horrible for her skin. What would he know?

 A loud blast erupted from inside. 

Chloe perked up, a permafrown on her face. Why are people so obnoxiously loud? She thought, rolling her eyes. She continued reading, obtaining information about “How to Tell if A Guy is Interested in You”, and pondering every moment when Adrien looked at her directly in the eyes. Too many times, she swooned, her feet kicking with delight. He’s bound to ask me out sometime—

The doors broke open, wood splintering. An akumatized villain flew out, hitting the pool with high impact. Water splashed onto Chloe’s clothes and ruined her makeup.

Chloe stood up straight, anger spiking. “How dare you! This is a custom-made outfit made by—”

The villain spat out water and glared at Chloe. “You!” she screeched. “You're the one who wants to take my Prince!!”

Chloe’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “What are you talking about—” 

Princess Fragrance heaved her over her back. Then, with the spray of perfume, they ejected themselves into the air.

Chloe always found heights unnerving. “Let me go!” Chloe screamed. “My daddy’s the mayor of Paris, and could have you arrested! Unhand me!”

“I will,” she said with a sadistic smile, “But only if you give up the pursuit of my prince.” 

Chloe paused, initially confused, before realizing who she meant. “You mean Prince Ali? Please, he was never yours to begin with.” 

“I’m Princess Fragrance!” she said with a high voice. “IT IS ONLY NATURAL THAT HE BELONGS WITH ME! ME!”

“He obviously doesn't want some ugly bitch,” she scoffed. “You could only wish to be half as pretty as me!”

“You—”

A yo-yo shot into the air, knocking Princess Fragrance’s head. Suddenly, her grip slackened, and Chloe fell from her arms. 

Chloe’s heart spiked rapidly; although she was out of her captor’s hands, she was plummeting approximately 500 meters towards the ground. She screeched terribly, losing air. This is it, she thought, I’m going to die, and it won’t even be my fault—

A yo-yo wrapped around her person, and she was yanked towards Ladybug. She crashed into her forcibly, bruising her arm. “Ow!” she yelped. 

“You're going to be okay,” Ladybug said, tightening her grip around her. She had silky raven hair, a fair complexion, and looked to be Asian. However, one thing stood out: her blue eyes. What Asian kid has blue eyes? Chloe thought, as she furrowed her eyebrows, scrutinizing her…she thought of one girl in her class who did. 

But Chloe eliminated that possibility quickly. There's a sizable demographic of Asian people in Paris; they even have their own ethnic communities, for goodness' sake, so it could be any Asian person. A lot of people in this group were also mixed, as well, and Chloe could even be wrong about her assertion of Ladybug being Asian in the first place. If the Ladyblog hadn’t confirmed it, she shouldn’t assume so either. Besides, she thought, why would someone give a sixteen-year-old girl such a tremendous responsibility?

Whatever. Ladybug was still cool, anyway. 

“What are you looking at?”

Chloe’s mind turned back to reality, and she looked away. “Nothing,” she muttered, “Just take me back home.”

Although she didn’t look, she could feel Ladybug’s eyes roll. 

She draped the neatly folded blanket over the couch. 

Ladybug was her role model. The person she aspired to be someday, and behind that mask…she was the girl that Chloe never truly liked in high school, and in the present day.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng. There were a lot of things she could say about her, and most of them were bad. Prissy as hell, and a fucking creep when it came to Adrien, always following him and drooling over him like some love-struck idiot. It did not help that her friend was enabling her too, and that practically everyone in school knew she liked him. Marinette couldn’t keep her damn mouth shut for one second. She also spoke a lot about righteousness, and acted like the solution to all problems lies in the ability to be selfless and kind. Like it works that way, ever. 

The worst part is that, despite how much Chloe dislikes Marinette, Marinette has achieved more success in her life than Chloe has. She’s married to a handsome, rich man, runs a successful side business in fashion, is a mom of two kids, and gets good press everywhere she goes. 

Her nails dug into the couch, her emotions hot and sharp with envy. I need a drink. 

“Get me another bottle, please,” Chloe said bitterly, “Same brand.”

As the bartender left, she buried her head in her face, tired and a little tipsy at the closest bar to her complex. It was a tacky dive bar; the red carpet crinkled under her feet as she shifted, and the bright blue walls were an eyesore. She could taste the smell of musk, and the cloudy haze of smoke made her eyes watery.

The bar was more crammed than usual, and there were a couple of close calls where a man almost knocked over her drink. “Tourists,” she sneered under her breath, popping her bottle. Honestly, she did not want to be at this place. She should be at her apartment, working on her new project. 

Yet, where would she drink her woes away?

“Mind if I sit here?” a woman said. 

Chloe turned around. It was the same person she ran into last time she was at the bar.  “Sure,” she said, slurring just subtly.

The woman took her seat. Her sharp eyes looked duller than last time, and Chloe could see signs of fatigue in her face. 

“You looked tired,” Chloe said, a dry chuckle escaping her lips. 

The woman smiled. “Had a long night, that’s all. You know…thinking.”

“Yeah, I get it. Many nights I go sleepless.”

A beat of silence stirred between them, Lila puckering her lips. Hesitant, she leaned back. “Do you ever wonder if you're too far gone?”

All the time, Chloe thought to herself. She took a swig of the bitter beer and leaned into the counter, arms propped.

“Could you lend me your ear, if that’s possible?”

Chloe shrugged and took another sip.

“I’m not a good person—”

“No one’s an inherently good person…” Chloe said, cutting her off. 

“No, you don’t understand!” she whined. “I’ve lied, cheated, and wedged myself into every position at the expense of others.” The woman took a break, downing her drink, burping. “I’ve even committed crimes for god’s sake!”

Chloe tipped her bottle back, savoring the last drops. Who hasn’t? 

“I know I should feel guilty about it, too,” she continued. “But, I don’t. Why is that?”

Chloe thinned her lips slightly. “It takes time. Someday, you’ll feel guilt. Trust me, I know.”

“Whatever you say,” she said with a lilting voice; a predator’s smile painted her face. Chloe moved her stool away ever so slightly, uneasy. I got sober way too quickly, she thought. 

The woman’s eyes flitted back to her drink. “What brings you here in the day, anyhow?”

“I just got back from the Paris Expo…”

The woman perked up. “Really?”

“Yeah. Were you there?”

“No, but I heard there was an akuma attack. That’s very strange.”

Chloe’s face tightened as her fingers squeezed the bottle in her hand. “Yeah. I never thought Ladybug and Cat Noir would return.”

The woman gasped. “Really?! Is she still as awesome as everyone makes her out to be?”

“No, not really. In fact—”

“Can I get a drink?” a hard voice said to Chloe’s left. 

Chloe turned back, startled, to face yet another familiar face. 

Kagami Tsurgi had her hands pressed on the counter, her sharp eyes narrowing with impatience. “Make it a Grey Goose straight.”

“Ma’am, please calm down—”

“Now.”

“Y-yes, m’lady!” the bartender said, spooked. He gestured to the collection. “Um…is the regular fine?”

“Sure.”

“O-okay!”

“Make it a double too.”

“O-of course!”

The bartender scurried off. Kagami surveyed the crowd, and was ready to sit down before noticing the woman next to Chloe. She shot up instantly, eyes lit with anger. In a flash, she moved away from her seat, and stood looming over the woman. The woman turned around, and scoffed, a smile tugging her face. “Long time no see.”

“What are you doing here?” Kagami spat. 

The woman looked at her coldly. “Can’t a woman get a drink?”

“Scram. I don’t want to be in the presence of a whore.”

The woman laughed mockingly. “You're so cold.”

“I said beat it, Lila.”

That was her name. I knew it was familiar, Chloe thought. No wonder I felt so uneasy around her. 

Lila stared at her for a split second, eyes lit, and sighed heavily. “Fine,” Lila said, after a long pause, “I was done with my drink anyway.”

With that, Lila picked up her purse, and left the room, the bell jingling as she shut the door. 

“She’s a crazy bitch,” Kagami said frostily, as she sat back down. “Don’t even try being friends with her.”

“Was not planning on it. I felt uneasy around her anyway.”

Kagami looked at her knowingly, her eyes still creased. “Chloe Bourgeois, right?”

Chloe froze. “Yeah,” she started, an edge to her voice, “What about it?”

“Nothing. Just an observation. Also, Adrien told me you were back in Paris.”

“Of course he told you.”

“I didn’t think you were so close to the Agreste family.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Chloe’s brows furrowed tightly. “They’re all assholes, that’s what.”

Kagami smiled humorlessly. “Guess we are both on the same page.”

“What do you mean?” Chloe asked, her tone betraying intrigue.

“I don’t know if you knew this, but Adrien’s cousin, Felix, and I started dating officially when you left. He was the only one I ever had eyes on.” A smile broke her hard countenance. “We had a lot of fond memories together. I remember the first time I found out he was allergic to fish. His face puffed up so much, it was almost comical. This may sound cruel, but I did take pictures. He was so embarrassed, and I couldn’t stop laughing.” 

“I didn’t know he was allergic to fish,” Chloe muttered. Frankly, I don’t know much about him at all. 

“A year ago, we got married. It was a beautiful altar, and all of my favorite people at the time were there. He stood up there, and I swear, he was literally glowing. I didn’t cry, but at that moment, I wanted to. I felt so special.”

Kagami took a deliberately long sip of her drink.  

“I knew that he went out a lot with the guys to the bars and strip clubs. I honestly did not think too much about it: it’s just entertainment, anyway. But...maybe I should have told him to stop going after it went too far. Those lipstick stains on his collared shirts felt deliberate, a little more than flirty, and not my own. I told myself I was going crazy until it was too late.

“It was about six months into our marriage when I found out. I will spare you the details... It's not something I want to talk about. Anyway, I officially signed my divorce papers a couple of months ago, and I cut off all contact with the Agreste family; it would be way too awkward to be around them at future family events. Plus, I was mad at Adrien for not abiding by some aspects of my side of a business deal,” Kagami looked away, staring into the counter with anger in her eyes. “Is it bad that I hope Felix rots in hell?”

“No. I hope he does too.”

“Don’t enable me,” Kagami said with a monotone voice. 

“I’m serious. He’s a bitch. You guys were dating for how long??”

“About five years.”

“Exactly!” Chloe huffed, drawing out her words. “I hope his life slowly starts to fall apart.”

Kagami chuckled dryly, a small smile appearing on her face. She lifted her drink. “Cheers?”

“Cheers.”

 “Okay, where do you live again?” Chloe asked as she stumbled on the streets. Kagami was wrapped around her shoulder, slumped against her person, eyes slowly blinking. She held a weak finger ahead. “That way,” she grogged. 

It was evening already. They were at the bar for a couple of hours longer, ordering lots of drinks and laughing at nothing. The night only ended when Kagami’s head slammed against the table, totally shit-faced. 

Droplets of rain fell from the sky. “Ooooohh, water droplets!” Kagami said, extending her tongue to catch one. 

Chloe’s brows knitted together, confused. This is Kagami Tsurgi, she thought. The anti-social ice queen. How odd…

“Are we almost there?” Kagami asked. 

“I think so,” Chloe said, with a weary look. They turned a corner and entered a nice neighborhood with trimmed shrubbery and really green grass. 

“Remember, it's the tall black house.”

“There are so many black houses, what are you talking about…holy shit…”

The house was super nice; clean, elegant black panels lined the house, as the thin white frames illustrated tall, skinny windows. It looked to be a skinny three-story home, and the front garden looked neatly tended to. As they walked to the small front porch of the house, Chloe could not keep track of the variety of flowers: violets, roses, daffodils, orchids, hibiscuses, she could go on. 

“You have a nice house,” Chloe said in a small voice. 

“I know,” Kagami slurred, fiddling with my keys. “It cost a fortune to have it remodeled.”

“Indeed.”

They stepped into the house. “Do you want me to come in—”

“I don’t care.”

Chloe snapped her mouth shut and followed in. 

It was even more beautiful inside. There was a modern elegance to every room’s design; sleek indigo couches, white paneled wood nailed to the wall, fake plants with gold shimmer that could shine when the light hit just right. The narrow staircase, made of polished wood, looked well taken care of, and almost every room felt spacious. This was the kind of house Chloe imagined she would have when she was a child. 

“Could you hand me the bottle opener? It’s in the first left drawer.”

Chloe snapped out of it, returning back to earth. “Sure. Why?”

Kagami nodded at the bottle of expensive wine in her hand. “What do you think?”

“I think you had enough for the night?”

“But this brand is so good. I even got this specific type handmade in Greece. I can’t drink it alone either, that would be so lonely…”

Chloe sighed, handing her the bottle opener. I am a sucker for expensive wine, she thought, as they clinked their glasses together. 

Ten minutes later, they were lying on the couch, laughing at nothing. 

“I hope you know I think you're soooooo prreetttyyyy…” Kagami said, giggling. 

Chloe looked at her, tears in her eyes. “Thank youuuu soooo muchhhh. I can’t believe…that fucker would DO that to you!”

“Ugh, I hateeeeeeee him alreadyyyyyyyy. FUCKING ASSHOLE!!” 

“We should go to his house…and…tell him…he’s actually crazy…and that you don’t deserve him…”

“Nooooooo, he doesn't even deserve a second glance.”

“I’ll call Luka. He’ll take us there…” Chloe reached for her phone, which was on the floor, and dialed his number. The phone began to ring. 

“Girl…he’s probably taking that bitch to poundtown right now…”

“Don’t worryyyy, Luka will take us thereeee…that fucker is so dead…”

“Who’s Luka?”

“My…best friend…”

“Chloe?” a voice said over the phone. 

“Hiiiii Luka! Are you working?”

“No, why?”

“Could you drive me to Felix’s house? That…fucker and I…have some problems we need to sort out…he hurt my friend…”

“What?” the voice rang, worried. “Should we take her to the hospital?”

“No, no, no! Her heart just hurts.”

“I see.”

“And…it’s his fault!”

“I’m picking you up. Where are you?”

“At Kagami’s house. The black house.”

“That does not help. Can you send me a pin?”

“Sureeee.”

“On my way.” The phone then clicked, ending the call. 

Kagami sighed. “I told you alreadyyyyy. I’ll be okayyyyyyyyyyy. Okayy?”

“Okayyyyyyyy…”

Both lonely women stared into space, the world fading between black and color. 

“Chloe, you told me you wanted to start a clothing line, right?”

Chloe’s eyes snapped open, more alert. “What about it?”

“I could make it happen.”

Chloe laughed mirthlessly. “You're funny.”

“I can make anyone’s dreams come true.” She traced the sky with her finger. “I’m like a genie.”

Chloe looked at her, awestruck. “Reallyyyyy??? No you're not.”

“Bet. Come see me tomorrow at work, and I’ll show you.”

“Alright,” Chloe joked, smiling. “I’ll be there, boss.”

Kagami smiled. “Good.” Then, she closed her eyes.

“Kagami?”

The sound of steady breathing followed soon after. She was definitely asleep. 

Chloe stood up, teetering towards the doorknob. Time to go back home. 

She collapsed on the ground not a moment later. 

“I got your call. Geez, you are more shit-faced than I thought,” Luka said, fastening her seatbelt. 

In the end, Luka did pick her up, and drove her back to the apartment. It was silent for the whole ride, for Chloe was utterly exhausted and could not keep her eyes open for another two seconds. “I’m so sorry…” she gurgled, feeling a tad guilty. 

Luka could only give a weary sigh as he turned his blinker on. 

When they got to her apartment, he had to help her open the door and make sure she did not trip over Prince, who circled her anxiously. 

“This has definitely happened before…” she stated, guiding herself to bed. 

“That’s because it has. Do you normally get hammered like this?”

“Not normally. I only do this when I’m extremely stressed about something…”

“Like what?”

Chloe grinned. “I know a secret.”

“I can keep your secret.”

“But it would endanger the world if you knew…”

Luka chuckled. “I don’t think it would.”

Chloe leaned her head on Luka’s shoulder, and sighed dramatically. “I know Ladybug’s secret identity.”

“You're funny,” he said casually, though she could feel him stiffen quite a bit.

“I’m serious,” she pouted. “It’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m surprised she kept it a secret for this long—”

“Chloe,” he said sharply, cutting her off. Chloe jolted; she had never heard him talk like that, much less to her. She did not like it one bit. “What?” she said sharply, “I’m just telling the truth.”

“Do you know how dangerous this knowledge is?”

“Yeah, it’s not like I wanted to find out! I just happened to walk by.”

Luka sighed heavily, the tire showing in his eyes. “I should go home,” he said, “I’m glad you're doing okay.”

“Hey, hold on, you seem tense. Did I say something wrong?”

Luka looked back, face tight with stress. “You did nothing, Chloe. Just…don’t tell anyone about this. For your safety.”

Chloe nodded. “Bye,” she whispered. The door clicked shut. 

Luka left his hand on the doorknob longer than he should have. 

She knows too, he thought to himself, pinching his nose. Shit. 

This isn't good. He knew all too well the dangers of knowing a miraculous holder; it’s why he had to live in Brazil for a couple of years. God, couldn’t Marinette have found a better place to de-transform? he thought. Now, Chloe’s safety was compromised, and he did not want anything bad to happen to her.

He thumbed his bracelet, contemplating. No, he told himself, I shouldn’t do that.

The situation is not completely dire. Chloe hasn't told anyone else, as far as he was concerned; anyone dealing with Ladybug knows that confidence is important if they want to be safe. But just in case things go south... 

He left the apartment, took out his phone, and dialed a number. Muscle memory made his fingers fly through the keys, remembering every number in a particular sequence he hadn't used in so long.

The phone rang twice before it was picked up. “Luka?” the voice said, muffled. "Why did you call me?"

“Hey, Marinette. You might have a problem.”

The morning after, Chloe woke up to the worst headache she’s had in a while. 

Her face felt hollow, her lips were chapped, and spit dried around her mouth and chin. God, I didn’t even brush my teeth. What the hell happened? She combed her hair with her fingers, ratty and tangled, and glanced at the clock. Her eyes bulged. 12:40?! Shit. I have to be at work in fifteen minutes! 

Chloe flew out of bed, for she had many things to do: find an outfit to wear, feed Prince, brush her hair, water her plants, do her makeup, and brush out the aftertaste of the expensive wine she had with Kagami. Kagami, she thought. I have never taken her to be the type to drink a lot, but I guess a lot can change in six years. She could not believe she saw her that night, much less that she would actually go to her really nice house. 

Chloe picked up her phone. Eleven missed messages, and two of them were from unknown numbers. Out of the two, one message read:

Heyyyyyy, do I have the right number? Is this Chloe?

She rolled her eyes; it looked familiar, but she deleted the number. The other message read, This is Kagami. Are you still stopping by my workplace today?

Chloe’s brain stopped. How did Kagami get my number? Maybe I gave it to her last night. But also, Chloe thought she was joking about meeting up with her tomorrow. Drunk people say the craziest things, but never usually mean it. It never crossed her mind to think that Kagami was actually serious. 

But…

If Chloe was right about a couple of things, then maybe this meeting would be worth something to her own starting business. Kagami was from a very affluent family, owns her mother’s company completely, and has a lot of connections. 

Of course, she could not just ditch work. Let’s hope she’s available after 19:00, she thought, texting Kagami for the address. With a stressed huff, she grabbed her purse and locked the door. 

Chloe took a deep breath, taking in the massive building. So this is where Kagami works, she thought to herself. I wonder what she does for a living. 

She walked into the building, turning to the nearest desk. 

“Hi, I’m here to see Kagami,” she told the lady at the desk, who was fixated on her work. 

“You would need to make an appointment ahead of time,” she said, not looking at Chloe. 

“She just texted me today.”

“It would be blocked off already—”

Chloe slammed her hand on the table. “I have an appointment for 19:00,” she hissed. “Put me down. Now.”

The lady shrank back and quickly made a block. “She’s in room 705 on the fourth floor.”

Chloe nodded curtly before leaving. 

The building was not very hard to navigate. Just four floors up, two lefts, and a right before she approached the door. What could be beyond? she wondered, lifting her hand to knock on the door.

Chloe didn’t feel anything except a pit of uneasiness. What could Kagami offer me? She could think of a lot of things, and it wasn’t the part that worried her a lot. But more importantly, what would she want from me?

This was a question Chloe did not have the answer to, and it made her nervous. That, and the fact that this could be a super awkward meeting.

“Come in,” she heard from the other side.

Chloe opened the door. The office looked exceptionally clean, as expected for someone like Kagami. Brilliant white covered the room from the ceiling to the bottom of the walls. The floors contrasted heavily with the airy atmosphere, dark paneled, polished wood stretching from the entrance to the other side of the room. A white, fuzzy rug sat in the center, suspiciously unmarked by any footprints.

Chloe stepped on the rug with her heels, sucking in a shallow breath. God, I’ve never felt so stiff, she thought, looking at anything and everything but at Kagami. “What did you want to see me for, exactly?” she said, trying not to let nerves slip through her voice.

Kagami stood up out of her chair, closing the laptop before her. “I have a proposal.”

“Okay, I’m all ears.”

“I would like to offer you an opportunity to be one of my designers for my annual Christmas show in December.”

Chloe’s mouth hung agape. What?

“I know you just started your business a couple of months ago, and it has yet to have a substantial following. But, after looking through your designs, I see you have potential.”

Chloe’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “Do you run a fashion company?”

“Good heavens, no. I run an artificial intelligence software company. However, my family is part of an elite network where every year, we collect designers and present their work in an annual Christmas show. I’m asking if you would like to represent the Tsurgi family in the fashion show.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious, actually.”

“You would be making an enemy out of my family, plus the Agrestes. You know how much they hate me.”

Kagami sighed heavily. “I honestly don’t care.”

Chloe looked at her skeptically.

“Here's the deal. I’m short on designers; some of them backed out at the last minute. Just do it, please? Think about the benefits of this arrangement.”

“What about…Marinette?”

“Don’t worry about her.”

“I thought you guys were friends.”

Kagami tensed. “Things got weird after Felix and I got married.” Her weight shifted. “It's a very long sob story that I don’t care to share with you.”

“Sure,” Chloe shrugged, not really caring. Though, she couldn’t help but think about the loose-lipped woman who stretched over the bar that night. She smiled a little at the striking contrast.

“Anyways,” Kagami continued, shaking her head, “You would be doing me a huge favor. What do you say?”

Chloe didn’t need to give this a second thought. “I’m in,” she said, offering her hand.

Kagami looked at it for a moment and cocked her head. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t just stand there, weirdo. Shake my hand.”

Kagami sighed heavily and shook her hand. “I also forgot to mention one condition.”

“What is that?”

“For this to work out, I need to be certain that you can work under pressure.”

“Okay?”

“So, I am going to need you to come in two weeks from now, and show me an outfit modeled by someone other than yourself.”

The request hit Chloe like a freight train. What? 

She looked up, eyes wide. “Huh?” she croaked.

“You heard me, didn’t you?”

What??

“I’ll send you meeting details later. Don’t be late," Kagami said, waving her hand. “You may go now. I've got some work to finish up."

Without saying another word, Chloe strode off back to her apartment, faced with the daunting task given to her. 

What???

“Chloe, what’s up with you today?”  

It was the next morning, and she was currently working with Luka at the shop. She insisted he didn’t need to be here today, but he still thinks she needs help closing the shop. As if.

“Is something wrong?” Chloe asked, a frown forming on her face.

“You seemed spaced out, that’s all.”

Chloe inhaled a deep breath. “Yeah. I met up with Kagami yesterday.”

“Kagami?” he exclaimed, a worried look passed his face. 

“Yeah, do you know her?”

“...I used to date her.”

Chloe’s eyebrows shot up. “Dang, dude. You fumbled so badly.”

“It was a mutual breakup. Besides, I think she started to fall in love with Felix as we were dating, so I saw it coming.”

Chloe blinked. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she coughed. “Anyways, she offered me an opportunity to design some pieces for her elite-only fashion show.”

“That’s great!”

“Only problem…” she chewed on her nail. “I have to prove myself first, and to satisfy her requirements, I have to design a dress in two weeks, and have a model to wear it.” 

“Do you have a model?”

“No! That’s the main issue! Ugh, it would have been so much easier to take my own measurements!” She buried her hands in her face. “What am I going to do?”, she whispered.

Luka paused for a moment to think. He opened his mouth before clamping it shut, returning to his pensive state.

“What?”

“I just thought of an idea, but I don’t know if she would do it.”

“What are you talking about?” Chloe asked impatiently. 

Luka hesitated before responding. “I was thinking of asking my younger sister to model for you, that’s all.”

It only took a few seconds for Chloe’s insides to twist with dread. “Are you sure you don’t know anyone else?”

“I mean, I know people, but I don’t know many models. Besides, Juleka’s used to this kind of stuff, it wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?”

Chloe squirmed in her seat. “I guess so.”

Suddenly, Luka’s phone rang. He picked it up, looking at the caller ID briefly before picking up. 

“Hello?”

A muffled noise sounded over the phone; Luka’s eyes widened. “What?”

The heart monitor beeped periodically. It was the only sound that the young woman ever heard in the hospital, which overlooked the glittering city of Paris. 

Paris. What a wonderful city, full of wonderful people that she may never get to meet. 

Someone in their mid-twenties would be out this late at night. Going to a nice restaurant, adorning the flickering lights and bouquets of summer flowers, walking by the river Seine. She and her fiancé used to do that. 

Those days, she thought wistfully. 

She remembered those nights. It would be a nice, humid summer day, and they would watch the milky moon, piercing through the heavenly clouds. Her fiancé would strum a tune; she would sing. They would create beautiful music together, interconnecting vocal sound with the strain and softness of the guitar. 

She remembered when they created the band, Kittysection. All of her favorite people are coming together and creating music with dedication, care, and love. 

She remembered the proposal. Her fiancé, on one knee, shaking with nerves. 

She remembered when she got introduced to the family. Oh, how she will miss them so.

She remembered the letters they would send to each other when they were apart. Her handwriting was quite nice back then.

Oh, she remembered a lot. Reminiscing was the only thing she could do now, while she was too ill to do anything but stare at the ceiling, a void of pitch black. 

It hurts what she has. She would get fevers very often, and chills would run up her spine. Sometimes, it was hard to walk, and she would have to puke all day. But she didn’t think it would get this bad.

A looming figure stretched the shadows. They’re here for me, she thought. She raised a withering hand towards the beautiful city.

Paris. There’s so much to see. 

She wanted to be strong. To live her remaining seconds with the sense of gratitude that she got to live a life she loved. 

But instead, tears spilled down her cheeks. Why do I have to leave so soon? she thought to herself. I want more time.

A cold, invisible hand pressed on her shoulder; she hitched in fear. The heart rate monitor spiked, its line moving erratically on the screen.

Beep. Beep. 

Beep. Beep. 

Beep. Beep. Bee—

She felt her heart lurch, seize, and finally, her eyes closed.

One last tear fell down her cheek. 

Rose Lavillant will miss those days.

Chapter Text

A guitar strummed by the Seine river, melancholy filling each charged string that was plucked with its worn-out pick.  

This used to be her favorite place to sit, a grassy patch so close to the body of water that her toes could touch it, as the stars reflected from above. It was a night so clear that, at a glance, you could even see the faint whisper of a comet shooting in the sky. 

But Juleka’s hollow eyes were fixated on the water, gently crashing onto the surface, contemplating what life could be now.

Hours ago, her fiancé just died from a terminal illness. 

She plucked one string harshly, gripping the guitar hard. Just thinking about her, alone in that cold room, as she slowly died, made her even more guilty that she wasn’t there during her last moments. 

That the last words she would tell her would be “I’ll be back.”

In fact, she wouldn’t be back, though she should have gone back. That song could have waited a little longer; the writing could have been revised a little later.

It’s too late now, she thought, plucking another string. 

Rose. She remembered the day they first met. It wasn’t love at first sight, but Juleka knew that there was something different about her. Rose was kind to everyone she talked to, including the animals. Juleka remembered one time she and Rose were hanging out, and Rose stopped by the sidewalk to feed a stray cat. 

“There, there,” Rose said tenderly, scratching behind the cat’s ear. 

That may have been the moment Juleka fell in love with her. It was also the first time she thought of the future and sharing it with someone. Even when Rose told her about her terminal illness, Juleka didn't care. As long as they had 50 years together, she would be content.

Rose died at twenty-three and won't be coming back.

She tossed the guitar to the side violently, scuffing it up a bit. “Fuck,” she croaked, her lips trembling at the words. 

The moon watched Juleka as she crawled into herself, sobbing and heaving until she could no longer do so. 

Those nights would contain her grief.

Chapter Text

Tomorrow, at Dawn

Tomorrow, at dawn, at the hour when the countryside whitens,

I will set out.  You see, I know that you wait for me.

I will go by the forest, I will go by the mountain.

I can no longer remain far from you.

I will walk with my eyes fixed on my thoughts,

Seeing nothing of outdoors, hearing no noise

Alone, unknown, my back curved, my hands crossed,

Sorrowed, and the day for me will be as the night.

I will not look at the gold of evening which falls,

Nor the distant sails going down towards Harfleur,

And when I arrive, I will place on your tomb

A bouquet of green holly and of flowering heather. 

-Hugo, Victor. Les Contemplations. n.p, 1856.

“Juleka,” Anarka called, knocking on the wooden door with frustration, “Can you please come out of your room?”

“I’m working on something,” Juleka said from the other side of the door.

“Like what?”

Juleka said nothing as she organized her song sheets. Kittysection had a concert today, and she barely spent any time practicing her electric guitar; it was really biting her in the butt. 

“I’m worried about you, sweetie. You haven’t left the house in three days.”

“I’m leaving today to go play,” Juleka said. 

“Juleka—”

“I need to focus,” she said, her voice snappy. “Could you just leave, please?”

Anarka sighed tiredly. “I just got a call from Rose’s parents. They asked if we could help with planning out a funeral.”

Juleka stiffened. “I thought we weren’t doing one.”

“We can’t just do a celebration of life—”

“Why not?” Juleka hissed, as she restrung her guitar. “It’s what Rose would have wanted.” 

“Sweetie, we also have to consider her loved ones as well though, especially the ones that are going to be traveling so far. A celebration of life party at our houseboat might seem just a little informal, that’s all.”

“Funerals are expensive. There’s no way your paycheck can contribute to half of the expenses.”

“You don’t need to worry about that.” Anarka said with a frustrated huff. “But, her parents and I would like it if you helped us plan the funeral—”

“I’m not interested.”

“Juleka, this is your fiancé. I think she would want you to plan her—”

“Stop.”

“Will you please stop cutting me off?”

“Only if you stop pestering me about this!” Juleka snarled, throwing her pencil across the floor. 

“Sweetie, you're going to regret this in the future—”

“Please leave,” Juleka said with a cold voice. “Now.”

“Fine!” Anarka said, finally at her wits end. “I’ll leave! But you will be coming to the funeral, you hear me?”

When Anarka finally turned away from the room, Juleka put on her headphones, tuning out the stomps that followed up the stairs. 

She strummed the new string on the electric guitar. When finished, she noticed it was a little too loose for her liking, but she didn’t care too much to tighten it further. It’s always better to be a little loose than tight, anyway, she thought, adjusting the knobs. Then, she connected the detachable cord to the speaker, and let out a rift. 

No thoughts filled her mind when she made music. All that mattered was the notes to play, and when to adjust the strings, and she would be able to not just hear the music, but see what she is playing. B string, she thought, striking the string with snappy force; the crackling sound of music boomed through the speakers, shaking the floor a little.

A muffle could be heard from the door. “Juleka!” the voice called, “Turn it down!”

But why should I? she thought, finding the green A chord, the sound a little higher pitched than it should have been. And why do you care now?

It was hard to put on a brave face for the world to see. All of her emotions just continued to spill over, a cup already filled to the brim. 

She couldn’t take it anymore. 

Juleka got to the venue at 19:00, twenty minutes before the show started. 

“Where were you?” Mylene said tensely, her eyes frantically re-reading the lyrics of track 2 in their new album, TraumaBond. This would be the first album without Rose in it.

“Out,” she lied.

“Juleka, we were all supposed to be here an hour ago, you knew that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she said, slumping down on a chair. But, Mylene was right: if she knew that hauling all of her equipment would take a couple of trips, she would have gotten here earlier. The hallways were narrow as fuck. 

Juleka inhaled in the dusty air, attempting to inhale the scent of vanilla. Rose, where are you? You're supposed to be here too. 

“—I know you asked for some help with that, since you're new to the electric guitar, so I was just wondering…hey, Juleka are you listening?”

Juleka blinked. Ivan was right next to her, looking her directly in the eyes. “What did you say?”

“Did you re-string your instrument?”

“Yeah?”

There was a pause. “Okay then,” Ivan gruffed, heading back over to his station. Mylene looked over his shoulder with worry. 

The entrance opened, and Luka emerged, his gaze slipping over towards her. “Hey little sis. Did you check the updated score from yesterday?”

“No, I did not. Why?”

“We changed a couple minor things.” He crouched by her side, and silently shifted through the sheets of paper clipped by a binder.

“Here,” he said, stopping at one page, pointing to a key. “Mylene’s voice is a little deeper, so we changed it to an C note at the bridge.”

“Okay.”

“Sorry if I didn’t tell you about it yesterday…you did not seem like you were in the mood to talk. I hope you don’t mind?”

“No, I don’t…it’s an easy fix.”

“Okay, good.” His phone then vibrated, and he looked at the notification, a small smile appearing on his face.

Juleka, with an eyebrow raised, peered over his shoulder. “Who’s Chloe?” she said suspiciously. 

“A co-worker and friend,” Luka said hesitantly. 

“Sure.”

Luka looked at her with horror. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You never talk to women.”

“Do you know how many women I’ve dated?”

Juleka looked at him with a deadpan expression. “Your last relationship was four years ago.”

He turned away, the tips of his ears noticeably red. God, she loved teasing him.

“She’s just a friend, that’s all.”

“Adrien Agreste is that you—”

“Guys! We are on at ten!” Mylene said, voice hitching. “We need to get on stage!”

Juleka clamped her mouth shut as she gathered her guitar. She could tell that Mylene was nervous, especially since this is her first time singing the new song live. Ever since the loss of Rose, the band had to shift over some responsibilities to other members in the group. Ivan did most of the songwriting now, and Mylene had to take over vocals. All of them were relatively good singers, but Ivan and Juleka didn't like to be in the limelight, and Luka was not a consistent member of the band. So, Mylene had to step up and take on that role. 

The members entered the stage, the black curtain concealing the other side. Luka played a couple notes on the keyboard for warmup, Ivan pressed on the petals, and as Mylene adjusted her microphone, Juleka felt the noticeable absence of Rose. She was the cheerful one, the person that would lead everyone in meditative practices to calm down their nerves. She was the glue that held everything together. 

Now, everything seems like it's falling apart. 

She heard the cheers from the other side of the curtain while she connected her electric guitar, adjusted her strap, and took in a deep breath.

Let the show begin, she thought, as the curtain rose. In 3, 2, 1…

 The show went on without a hitch. It was a more lively crowd than most tonight; Juleka could feel the room vibrate as the crowd shouted their lyrics, and banged their heads to the sound of heavy metal. Overall it was a good show, and they were planning on celebrating by going to the Queen, a punk-inspired bar that blared old 70s rock, and played live wrestling matches on widescreen TVs. 

Usually, the bar was not too busy when the band came at this time; most people went over to the rival bar, Hagsberth Brewery, because it was more spacious. But, tonight was different, for the clamor of people seemed louder, and the bar was more crowded than usual. It unnerved Juleka, to say the least. 

They settled down in a six-seater, an isolated table far away from the chaos of the bar seats, and made themselves comfortable, receiving cups of water from the waitress as they browsed the menu.  

“Hm, I might get the Negroni,” Juleka said, sipping on some water. “Ivan, what about you?”

“I’m going to have a Pale Ale tonight.”

Juleka’s nose scrunched slightly. “Ew, seriously Ivan?”

“What’s wrong with Pale Ale?”

“Beer in general is just gross.”

Ivan shrugged, smiling with amusement. “What can I say? I don’t like sugary things, that’s all.”

“Whatever,” Juleka said, eyeing Mylene. “What are you getting?”

Mylene looked up from the menu. “I’m not getting anything.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, maybe just an appetizer.” She paused for a minute. “Juleka, you know I’m pregnant, right?”

Juleka’s eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

Mylene smiled softly, gazing lovingly at her husband. “Yep. We don’t know the sex yet, but I’ve thought of a couple of names.”

“She wants to name it George if it's a boy,” Ivan muttered. “I don’t know how to feel about that name.”

“Oh Ivan, it's not like I’m naming him shitpants.”

“Sounds like it.”

The Couffaine siblings laughed to themselves as Mylene playfully hit Ivan on the arm.

“How long have you been pregnant for?” Juleka inquired. 

“About four months. I thought I already told you this a month ago?”

“Oh, um…sorry. I guess I forgot.”

“That’s alright,” Mylene stated, “I know you’ve been going through a lot, especially with—” she hesitated a little, “—you know, what happened to Rose.”

Juleka chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah. It kind of puts a damper on everything now.”

Mylene’s doe eyes softened. “If you need to talk to someone—”

“So Luka,” Juleka started, “Tell me about the girl you’ve been seeing.”

Luka almost choked on his water. 

“Girl?” Ivan questioned, a wicked grin on his face, “I haven’t heard about any girl.”

“She’s just a friend guys,” Luka clarified, quickly garnering his composure. 

“How come you're always gone so late at night?” Juleka stated. 

“I busk the streets at night, and I work closing shifts.”

“You're always smiling at your phone.”

“That doesn't mean anything.”

“What do you mean, of course it does—”

“Oh Juleka, stop hounding him,” Mylene reprimanded, while chuckling with amusement. “What does this girl look like?”

“I don’t have a picture.”

“Ah, I see. Well, I wish you lots of luck.”

Luka sighed with exasperation. “It’s not like I’m planning on going any dates soon anyway.”

“Why’s that?”

“I work alot. I don’t have time for it.”

“On that note,” Ivan started, “You said something about quitting the band after next month?”

Luka took a sip of water before answering. “Yeah.”

Juleka whipped her head around to face Luka. Quitting the band?

“I never heard about this,” Mylene said, confusion knitted between her eyebrows. 

“Yeah, um…” Luka paused for a minute before taking a deep breath in. “I meant to tell you and Juleka beforehand, but I got another job.”

“What does the job entail?” Mylene questioned. 

“It’s an office job. Full-time with health insurance.”

“But that means…”

“Yeah, I’m going to have to quit music, and my part-time job at mom’s shop.”

They all sat in silence. “Luka,” Juleka piped up, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Luka chuckled humorlessly. “What choice do I have? My savings are running out by the week, and mom’s shop is not getting enough sales. By next year, we might have to shut it down.”

“So your just going to give up?” Juleka said angrily, “We’ve worked so hard to get to this point in our lives. Think about the countless hours we’ve spent practicing together, the weeks it took to produce our music. At this point, we might even get recognized by some labels—”

“Might get recognized by labels. That doesn't mean we ever will.” He leaned into the table counter, fingers pinching between his brows. “I want to believe that if we work harder, refine our talents, that we’ll make it big. But, I have to face reality: music doesn't pay bills, and music can’t afford mom a cushiony retirement.”

Juleka knew that there was more to his decision than what he stated. After moving back into her mother’s houseboat, she’s picked up on what her older brother’s life is like. Everyday, he’s always getting up early to play music on the streets for money, or checking on the maintenance of the houseboat. In the daytime, she rarely ever sees him, for he is either working at mom’s shop, or bussing tables at the fancy Italian restaurant down the street from where they live. On top of rehearsing with Kittysection, he gets back every night with a subtle tiredness around his eyes, and a ruffled look that was brought by yet another manic day. 

He was tired. Tired of living off nothing, and living with his mom on a houseboat. Tired enough that he is willing to give up a talent, so injected into his veins, for the sake of living a comfortable life.

It was an idea she refused to comprehend. 

The waitress came by and handed them their drinks. Luka took a sip out of his drink and made a face. “She mixed up our drinks. I think this one’s yours,” he said, passing it to Juleka. 

“Oh, thanks,” she said, receiving the drink and taking a sip. The drink was a little bitter and ice cold, she evaluated. She hummed with delight. Just the way she liked it. 

Luka and Juleka walked back home in silence after leaving the bar. 

The Couffaine siblings never interacted much throughout their childhood, much less when they became adults. It was not because they weren’t on good terms, but rather both siblings had a lot going on in their lives; Juleka was always with Rose, and Luka was working two to three jobs at a time while taking care of their mother at home. The only time they really interacted was when Luka would make minor appearances at Kittysection practices, and even that was few and far in between. 

Though a lot had changed since the loss of her fiancé, and she’s been seeing him around a lot more. Juleka did not know how to feel about that. 

“So,” Luka whistled, breaking the silence. “I noticed you didn’t touch your food. Not hungry tonight?”

Yes, she was hungry. She hadn’t eaten in almost a day, and her stomach was audibly gurgling for something caloric. The mouth-watering burger and fries she always ordered at the Queen looked and smelled amazing. But, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t eat it. Biting into a fry felt like an explosion of flavor that she wanted to spit back out, just like everything else she’s had for the past couple of weeks. Everything she loved to eat now tasted vile. 

“Yeah,” Juleka muttered, looking down at the ground as she walked. 

“I noticed that you stopped going to your therapy sessions recently.”

Juleka swept her gaze away from his; he’s incredibly perceptive. “I haven’t needed to since May.”

“Oh.”

“I’m fine,” she snapped. “I don’t need to go to a therapist anymore.”

“Right.”

Juleka looked off into the night, trying to find some essence of Rose. She always believed that when a person died, their soul would stay around until it completed unfinished business. Knowing Rose, she would be worried sick about Juleka, and Juleka wanted Rose to know that she was doing okay. But...

Why can't I see you?, she thought desperately. The full green trees rustled slightly, the leaves bending to the will of the sharp breeze crossing from the Seine. She shuddered a little, shoving her hands in her low-rise, black jean pockets. Maybe she will find her later.

“By the way,” Luka blurted, “Um, I have to ask you a favor.”

“Shoot.”

“Wait, let me ask you a question. Do you still do modeling?”

Juleka’s breath slightly hitched, and her shoulders grew tight. “I haven’t done it in a while.”

“Okay,” Luka paused for a moment before continuing. “My friend, a fashion designer, got offered an opportunity to be a part of a roster of designers for the Tsurgi Christmas Show. But, she needs to showcase some pieces of her work to Ms. Tsurgi for evaluation. And,” he hesitates a little before saying, “She needs a model. No pressure if you don’t want to do it, though.”

Juleka’s lips thinned. This sounded like a horrible idea, at least for her own well-being. Her mental state was a wreck, and she had not eaten well in weeks. Last time she looked in the mirror, her ribs had shown through a little more than normal, her face jutted out and became more gaunt than usual, her skin became sickly pale. Combined with her previous experiences modeling, Juleka looked and felt far from model material. 

But, she also needed a distraction. Juleka needed to show Luka that she was okay, that she doesn't wallow in her room all the time. So, with a small smile, she said, “I’ll do it.”

The Couffaine siblings were watching a movie when the doorbell buzzed the next afternoon. 

“Coming!” Luka called as he made his way to the door. Juleka paused the movie, and turned around to face the door. She was more put together today than usual; her short black hair was brushed and straighted, and her blemishes were covered by a pale concealer. 

Maybe I can do this, Juleka thought to herself, I just need to be approachable and smile a lot.  

Luka opened the door, revealing a young woman that looked a lot like—

Juleka’s breath hitched in shock. In that moment, she realized she made a huge mistake by taking up his favor. 

Chloe Bourgeois stood at the doorway, hand on her hip. She only grew more beautiful with age: her face became more defined, she had little to no pores, and her honey hair glowed around her head like a halo. She also looked a little more innocent, like a playful touch to your shoulder wouldn’t send you searing with pain.

But Juleka was not fooled. Chloe might look innocent on the outside, but she was poisonous on the inside. Seeing her made food taste like ecstasy. 

“You said you had a model for me?” Chloe said, talking to Luka at the door. 

“Yeah,” Luka breathed, and Juleka looked at him in alarm. This could not be happening. 

She quickly got off the couch and rushed over to Luka’s side, tugging at his jean jacket. “Luka,” she started, “Can we talk?”

“Um…” he looked at Chloe, who smiled apprehensively. “I’ll be outside,” she said tensely, closing the door with her.

With the pair being alone, Juleka put her hands on Luka’s shoulders, looked at him dead in the eyes, and inhaled sharply. “What is Chloe Bourgeois doing here?”

“She’s the designer friend I was talking about.”

“This is your friend?” she hissed. 

“Yeah, why?”

“Do you have any idea what she did to me?”

Luka pondered, confused. “No, I don’t. You never talked about it with me.” 

Juleka buried her hands in her face. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Hey wait, she just got here—”

“I just need to recoup, so…give me a minute?”

“Okay.”

She turned around, heading to the bathroom, when she could feel a hand on her shoulder. Juleka exhaled heavily. 

“Can you tell me what she did to you?” Luka asked, concern etched into his voice. 

Juleka gulped. Oh, there was so much Chloe Bourgeois did to her. 

Throughout her schooling days, she always knew she wasn’t going to fit in with the other kids at school. Juleka paid no mind to the prolonged stares of her goth-inspired attire; it was her style, and she wouldn’t change it because some people teased her in class. Or in the halls. Or at lunch. Nevertheless, she wasn’t overtly targeted, and kept to herself the majority of time. 

But one day changed everything. 

She was going to the cafeteria with Rose on one normal day, and she noticed that Chloe Bourgeois was in line for lunch. It was odd, because she usually had her chauffeur drive her out to fine dining. Chloe scrutinized the slop on her plate, a placid look on his face. Snob, Juleka thought as she rolled her eyes.

Her eyes flickered down to her white pants, where she saw a little stain on her butt. Juleka stared at the spot, and was debating on telling her, when Chloe turned around, and looked at Juleka with utter disgust. 

“Why the fuck are you staring at my butt you gay-ass bitch!”

The cafeteria line went silent. “W-what?” Juleka croaked, uncomfortable with all of the eyes on her. 

Chloe scrunched up her nose. “Ugh, I knew you were one of them, I just didn’t want to come to that conclusion.”

“I…I…”

“Stop that!” Rose said, putting a hand out defensively in front of Juleka. “It’s not nice to say those things.”

“Awe, look! She’s defending her fag friend, isn’t that so sweet? Yet I’m the one personally victimized.”

“She wasn’t staring at your butt!” Rose retorted.

“I literally caught her! That’s gay as hell!”

“I…um…I…” Juleka muttered, her eyes trained down towards the floor.

People began to whisper, and the giggles began to erupt. Oh god, now everyone was making fun of her. Her cheeks flushed a beet red, and tears pricked in her eyes. 

“Well…um—”

“Can you stop mumbling? I’m honestly getting more annoyed by the minute!”

Juleka looked up, trying to summon confidence. “Um…wait…er…there’s an explanation—”

“Be careful ladies,” she said, scanning the room full of young girls who clutched their bags and buttoned up their collared shirts. With that last biting comment, she walked away. 

Thus the rumor was born that Juleka was a woman-lover who preyed on girls in school. Since then most girls steered clear from her. Some would directly state their homophobia, saying, “Careful, she might end up having a crush on you!”, but the majority showed their discomfort through little actions, like tugging down their skirts around her, and indirectly causing Juleka to relocate to the women’s bathrooms when she had to change into gym clothes. One time, Chloe Bourgeois gave her a dildo as a Christmas present. She wanted to cry out of embarrassment when Rose found out about it. 

Part of the rumor was true: Juleka did like girls. However, she only told Rose and a couple close friends. That day, it felt like Chloe ripped off her clothes, and left her naked for the whole world to see. Chloe not only took away people’s respect for her, but she also took away the right to choose. Juleka wouldn’t wish that upon anybody. 

Her school life had quickly become hell, and that was only the start. A month later, her mother was laid off, and they relied solely on Luka for financial support, which was very little. At one point, their electricity was shut off for a couple of weeks; Juleka barely had time to do homework because they had to do extra around the house. 

It all seemed like too much for Juleka. So, she almost resorted to the most drastic solution one person could take. 

Her mother asked her where she was going one night, and Juleka told her she was going on a run. Rose always went on runs, and she noticed that Juleka had terrible endurance; it was a good excuse to get out of the house. But that night, she had other plans. One time, Chloe had once told her to jump off Pont du Garigliano. It was a fleeting comment, but it gave Juleka an idea. So, instead of taking the normal loop she usually did, she went to that bridge. 

Her body screamed at her, telling her to go back home. But her mind said something else: Everything’s going to shit, and there’s nothing that she can do about it. 

She felt powerless in every aspect of her life, and, as she looped her leg over the railing, standing inches before the drop, felt like this was the only choice she could make.

Juleka remembered that memory very clearly. It was a cold night, the lights were harsh, and the water looked distant and black. She closed her eyes at one point, with little effort, and tried to move her foot over the ledge. To drop, fall, and…

Her mind trailed back to Rose. A bright halo surrounded her, and she imagined hearing her laughter for a supposed one last time. Tears slide down her cheeks; she’ll never hear the echo of her voice after today. She tried to move her foot once more, which felt stuck to the ledge. Her heart began to race, and her hands got clammy. She was up here for longer than she expected.

And then she looked down. Her breath hitched with fear, and cold sweat broke out all over her body.

What am I doing?

Before she could even think about it, she hopped back over the railing, almost slipping, and ran back home. 

No one would ever know that she was at the bridge that night. 

Luka should know why Juleka feels the way she does about Chloe. But, Juleka didn’t have the heart to tell him. 

“I…I don’t want to talk about it,” she says, shrugging off his hand. 

She could picture the tense expression on his face. “Okay. Let me know when you are going to be out.”

“Okay,” she said, closing the door, and locking it from the outside. Juleka slumped down to the ground, crawling into a ball. 

Things were good before. She finally got her life together after high school: the band was rising in popularity, she had an amazing partner, was financially stable, and had her own place. It seemed like things could finally go up from where she started. 

What a foolish dream, she thought, as she closed her eyes for a bit, tired and emotionally drained from everything that has happened to her.

 “Juleka?”

She rubbed her eyes. Mom? 

“It’s your mother. You haven’t been out of the bathroom in more than 30 minutes, and we have a visitor here for you. Are you doing alright?”

Shit. I’m not ready. 

“Yeah,” she said, throat tight. 

“Honey, I know you're lying. Please open the door.”

“Mom, please leave me alone. I told you—”

She heard a key turn, and a click. The door swung open before Juleka could get up and close it once more. 

Anarka dropped to her knees. “Juleka, please tell me what’s going on.”

“I already told you I’m fine!” Juleka said, her voice growing louder. “God, why does everyone keep asking that!”

“Honey, you’ve just been acting funny for the past month. Me, your older brother…we are all concerned.”

“I’m not ‘acting funny’, it’s just…I’m grieving!”

Anarka’s face softened. “Sorry, that’s what I meant to say. Now, someone’s here to see you for…modeling? Is that what it is?”

Juleka scampered back from the door. “No, no, no! I’m not ready!”

“Ready for what?”

“To see her!”

“Juleka, I don’t understand. What’s going on?” 

“I don’t want to see her! Get her away from me—”

“Juleka,” Anarka snapped. “Can you please tell me why—”

“NO, BECAUSE IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!” Juleka yelled, her voice bouncing through the walls of the house. 

Anarka stopped, and wilted. Tears formed in the crevices of her eyes. “What did I do to push you away from me?”

Juleka’s throat bobbled. 

“Why don’t you want to tell me anything?”

Juleka initially didn’t know the answer to that question. But, maybe it stemmed from the moment her parents got divorced. It took a toll on her mother for the worse: she remembered the choked sobs that ripped from her mother’s throat while she slept, and the lack of food she ate. When she took a two-week leave from her job, Juleka could remember the repeated motion of everyday chores, clearing the same dishes, sweeping the same spot, and watching the same show. So, she helped her mother with the chores, took her out for walks, and watched the same show over and over with her. Although she hurt a lot when dad left, she was left with a hope that she’ll have her mom back. 

The light from her eyes never rekindled. So, after a couple of years, Juleka gave up. Her mom was gone, and nothing could be done to bring her back. 

It made her so angry for so many years. 

She felt all the emotion bubbling up, stinging her throat like hot acid. “You want to know why? It’s because you never cared about me in the first place! You were so stuck in time when dad left us, and I did everything you wanted. I cleaned the house, I went on those silent walks with you, I kept you together, yet…yet you never acknowledged me! Never hugged me, never asked how I was doing when dad decided to leave us! When I was getting bullied! When I almost jumped off a bridge to end my life because of that girl who is currently standing outside of our house!”

This caught Anarka’s attention, and she audibly gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth. 

Juleka continued, eyes averted from Anarka. “You were selfish, and you never paid any attention to me.”

By this point, Juleka was a hot mess; tears streamed down her cheeks, and mascara dripped down her face. “I lost dad. I felt like I lost you. Now, I lost Rose,” she added, her voice smaller this time.  “Why do I always end up alone?”

The silence was deafening, which was only broken by the sound of a hiccup; she looked up to face her mother. Anarka had started to cry. 

“Juleka…I…I didn’t realize, I…” 

She paused for a moment, lowering her gaze, and took her daughter’s hands. “You must have been holding in a lot, haven’t you? And to think that I was the cause of your problems…” Another beat of silence passed, as Anarka caressed her hands, visibly shaking from emotion. “God,” she choked, “I am such a horrible mother.”

Then, Anarka pulled her in an embrace, sobs escaping from her throat. Juleka, initially stunned, wrapped her arms around her mother. 

“I’m so sorry!” Anarka cried, her voice hoarse from the salt of her tears. “I can’t believe I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me. I’ve only ever wanted to talk to you all these years. But I constantly felt shut out…honey, I didn’t know you were going through all of this!”

Juleka closed her eyes shut, holding back more tears. 

“I love you,” Anarka said fervently, squeezing her daughter. “Forever and ever. No matter what you tell me, I will always be by your side.”

For a minute, Juleka was unsure about the truthfulness of that statement. 

All the memories flooded through her brain. The way she clung to her mothers hand, providing her strength and comfort. The time when her mother kissed her bruised knee after she scraped it on the sidewalk. The loving gaze her mother held when she would look at the framed picture of Juleka when she was a baby. The picnic days, the times when they created music. Her mother’s tearful eyes when she graduated high school. The goodbye wave from her houseboat when Juleka moved on to college, her face lit up with the secret wish that her kids find success in life. 

Juleka's eyes watered once more, and she buried her face in her hands, shaking with emotion.

The truth seemed to unravel itself, the webbed darkness finally dissolving; she could see what she had refused to believe she had for the first time since she was six years old. 

Her mother may have been a broken person, but Juleka was never alone. Her mother had been there for her in ways that she had long forgotten and merely erased.

Suddenly, she pulled her mother back in another embrace, and she buried her face in the crook of her neck. “Mom,” she wailed, clutching her shirt like she did when she was a child. “I miss her mom, I miss Rose so much.”

Anarka kissed the top of her head gently, stroking her hair. “My daughter,” she whispered, as more tears streamed down her face. “I miss her too.”

They stayed like that for a long time.

Eventually, Juleka told Anarka about her history with Chloe Bourgeois. She wasn’t sure how she would react; Chloe, after all, was working for her, and Anarka did imply that she held high regard for her. So she was surprised to find that her mother was infuriated with Chloe on her behalf. 

“I can’t believe she did that to you! What an awful rumor to spread around…oh, honey, I am so sorry,” she coaxed, rubbing the sides of Juleka’s arm. “I can tell her to leave if that makes you feel comfortable.”

And Juleka wanted her to leave, very badly. The thought of being in the same room triggered moments in her life that she did not want to repeat. 

However, she thought about what Rose would do, and she didn't think she would walk this off. So, she got up, left the bathroom, and went to meet up with Chloe Bourgeois. She opened the door, finding the pair sitting on one of their wooden benches. 

"Oh, hey Juleka, you're back!" Luka called.

"Hi," she mumbled coldly.

"Hi Juleka," Chloe said, before taking in a deep breath and asking, "Could we talk in private before we do anything?"

Juleka's eyebrows shot up. Great, another emotionally draining conversation except it's with someone I hate, she thought.

Despite that, however, she sat on the bed, patiently waiting for Chloe Bourgeois. Juleka did not know if it was because she was fatigued by emotional drainage or if Rose gave her some peace of mind. But, she felt a little ready to take another big, emotional step. 

The sun was high in the sky, making the shadows in her room stretch longer than usual. As she stared at the star squishy in her hands, a strange sense of calm washed over her. She repeated herself a little mantra: You can do this, you can do this, you can do this-

The door creaked open. Chloe Bourgeois slid into the room, and for a minute, dread coiled in her stomach. Her body told her to run away, but her mind knew that wouldn’t solve anything. Instead, she gave a controlled breath in and exhaled loudly. 

“Mind if I sit here?” Chloe asked. 

Juleka closed her eyes and patted the bed, indicating to sit. Rose, lend me your strength.

Chloe sat on the bed, her posture as straight as an arrow. 

“You said you wanted to talk, right?” Juleka mumbled. 

“Yeah, is this a bad time though? You don’t look too well.”

Juleka sighed wearily. “I’d rather get this over and done with so that we can work together professionally.”

Chloe gulped. “Right.”

An awkward silence filled the room. She could practically feel Chloe squirm with discomfort as she fiddled with her hands, opening her mouth and snapping it back shut. Good, Juleka thought. Let her feel uncomfortable. 

However, even though she was trying to force Chloe to make the first move, she was having a hard time settling in the tension. Her eyes grazed around the room, trying to find anything to look at other than the woman next to her. She finally ended up fixated on the guitar leaning against her speaker, which was still plugged into her dust-ridden speaker, and the nacho plate on the side. She would need to take that upstairs. 

“I shouldn’t have said that to you,” Chloe blurted out awkwardly, stumbling on her words and breaking Juleka out of her trance. “You know, the bridge comment. That was…out of line.”

Juleka shifted. “Yeah, it was.”

“I just—” 

“Actually, you did a lot of things that were out of line when we were in classes together. First, you made up that horrible rumor about me, and then you actively tried to make my school life hell.” 

“I misunderstood the situation—”

“That still didn’t give you the right to call me those homophobic insults,” Juleka shot back, getting a little irritated. “What did I ever do to you to warrant that kind of harassment?”

Chloe took a deep breath in, pondering her next words carefully. Then, she began.

“During that period in my life, I was going through a lot. My mother was absent, and my father never paid any attention to me. I was…angry.” She turned towards Juleka, a look of immense guilt spread across her face. “No matter what I did, I could never seem to turn their gaze away from their careers, from success. So, I did the next best thing, which was to bully other people. In some twisted way, it satisfied me to see people having a worse time than I did. But, now I know that was wrong of me.”

“I’m sorry,” she continued, her throat bobbing. “I can’t change the vile things I did to you, and I don’t expect any forgiveness on your part. But, I’m grateful that you're willing to hear me out.” She then got up from the bed, and wiped her balmy hands on her pants. “I’ll try to find another model to wear my pieces.”

“Wait a minute, I never said I wasn’t going to model for you.”

“Juleka. I can tell you're uncomfortable around me.”

“No I’m not—”

“You have a waver in your voice, and your shoulders are incredibly tight.”

Juleka’s breath caught. “How could you tell?”

Chloe shrugged. “Lots of practice. There’s a lot of people that don’t like me that much.”

“My brother does.”

Chloe gave her a ghost of a smile. “Well, he didn’t know me in high school, so I guess it's easier. Plus,” she paused, letting out a small smile, “He’s kind.”

“You're right about that.” They both laughed softly, breaking up the tense air. 

“Well, I should get going; my hunt for a model isn’t quite done yet. But,” she started, “I wish you the best Juleka. I’ll try to stay out of your way.”

With that, Chloe headed for Juleka’s door, and quietly exited the room. 

Is this how it’s going to end? 

The boat rocked subtly as she sat in numb silence, her sprawled notebooks shifting across the floor. 

Why don’t I feel satisfied?

Juleka replayed the conversation she and Chloe shared over and over again, trying to pick apart any malice in her tone, any conspicuous motives that could be wedged under those words. Despite being evil to her, she was always quite persuasive. But her eyes didn’t seem calculated or cold like they were in high school. Also, based on her body expression, her guilt seemed…genuine? 

Juleka felt incredibly perplexed, as she gazed at the picture of Rose at her bedside. She was brought back to the memory of her smile, and her gentle heart. Rose would forgive her easily, for she was always impressionable.

The question was, however, this: could Juleka find room in her heart to forgive her?

Chloe was walking alongside the old sidewalks of Paris when a buzz erupted from her back pocket. 

She arched a brow, curious to see who texted her. When she looked down, her eyes widened. 

Juleka?

She stopped, staring at the notification. Should she open it now? With a hesitant tap, she opened the message, apprehensive about what she had to say. 

It was a simple message, nothing too special. However, it didn’t stop the tears that dripped down her face. “Fuck,” she said, desperately trying to wipe them away with the sleeve of her shirt.  

She knew she still had a long way to go, and that the road to redemption was never going to be easy. Yet she couldn’t help but break out in a smile and relish the light feeling of being forgiven. 

A guitar strummed by the Seine river, tranquility filling each charged string that was plucked with its worn-out pick.  

Juleka sat out by a well-lit bench on this clear night, hearing the faint rustle of trees dancing to the melody of the wind, a contemplative look on her face. It wasn’t easy to forgive Chloe, and just because she chose to, didn’t make them friends anytime soon. Nevertheless, she held a secret hope that someday, maybe they could get to that point. 

Time would need to be on her side for that, however. 

Juleka looked up at the sky, finding one glistening star that joined the chorus. Rose, she thought, I can finally see you. 

The breeze hummed under her strings and came alive. For a mere moment, she met Rose that night, who took on the form of a ghost in the wind. Some may call her crazy for thinking that, but she swore she could feel the warm graze of her hand on her cheek, the smell of her lavender shampoo, and hear her whisper softly…

Goodbye. For now.

Chapter Text

A knock sounded from the entrance. 

Shit. I thought I would have more time, she thought to herself, bumbling over to the door. Clothes were strewn all over the floor, and shoes were knocked over everywhere. “Give me a minute!” she called, tripping over her messy apartment. When she met the doorknob, she caught her breath before swiftly swinging the door open, the hinges creaking at the sudden movement. 

Luka stood at the doorway, a small black suitcase in hand. “Ready?” he said, a smile playing on his lips. 

“No,” she breathed, gesturing to him to come inside, “I still need to pack my makeup!” Also—” she nodded over towards the kitchen “—Could you turn off the stove over there for me?”

“Sure.” Luka walked over to the kitchen, peering over the crockpot, with a confused look on his face. “What’s the chicken noodle soup for? You know we are going to be gone for about five days, right?”

“It’s for Zoe,” she huffed in the other room, squeezing all of her clothes into the large yellow suitcase lying wide open. 

“Oh, right, she’s sick.”

“Yeah, I was planning on dropping the crockpot off before we left.”

Luka checked the time. “Well, we might have to leave now. It’s 10:40.”

Shit. The plane boards at 12. “Alright,” she said, snapping her suitcase shut, and heading out of her room, “I’m ready. Wait, did I write a note—”

“Already did,” he said, setting the pen down. 

Chloe sighed. “Good. Thank you for asking your sister to dog sit.”

“Of course. Ready?”

Chloe popped the handle of her suitcase up and picked up the large crockpot. “Ready.”

Two weeks before, Chloe received something very unexpected in her mailbox.

It was a manila envelope, sealed with her address listed in the center. She didn’t expect anything important, just bill notices and tabloids advertising junk she didn’t need. Her fingers popped open the seal, and her eyes glanced inside the package.

Her jaw dropped. 

It was two invites to the major Gabriel Agreste showing in London during fashion week, plus an all-paid weekend at a luxury hotel in London.

She started to squeal and hop in place. I thought I would never get to see another showing, she thought to herself. And a Gabriel Agreste showing at that! Those shows are only reserved for VIPS and rich people who can afford such tickets— 

Chloe suddenly stopped her train of thought and slumped on the couch, for the gloom of reality weighed in. For a minute, she forgot that she got invited to a Gabriel Agreste showing and that the entire Agreste family was going to be there. Which included Marinette Dupain-Cheng and her mom. The chances of running into them would be likely if she showed. 

Her fingers pinched the top of her nose as she groaned in frustration. God, this is going to be a wreck. Initially, she thought about giving the tickets to someone else. The chances of running into these people were high enough in Paris. So, knowing that she would run into them at a small, elitist party like this fashion show would turn the event into a very awkward evening. 

However...

Chloe couldn’t disregard the benefits of attending this event. It sounded like a great opportunity to garner some advice from possibly well-known heads of fashion tycoons and network with other designers. There’s bound to be a lot of big names at the Gabriel Agreste showing; he was the world’s biggest fashion designer after all. Additionally, there would be fine catering at the afterparty, and there would be a good chance that Kagami would be there. A fun drinking buddy, plus she could ask her to extend the deadline a couple days for her design submission. Chloe had yet to find a model, unfortunately. 

She also got these tickets for free, under her name. Why should she have to inconvenience herself for the sake of people she could run into? 

That sounded utterly ridiculous to her. 

So she got up from the couch, and dialed her sister. She was going to need a plus-one.

“Gate B is now open, leaving for London.” The loudspeaker called over the intercom. “Zones 4 and 5 may now line up to enter the plane.”

Chloe and Luka gathered their stuff, and headed towards the growing line. “Do you have your ticket?” Chloe asked. 

“Yep. By the way, why are airplane tickets so expensive?”

“Do you want the smart answer or the simple answer?”

Luka hummed. “Keep it simple

“You bought it last minute.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Chloe grinned sheepishly. Originally, she and Zoe were going to go to London together; however, plans had to change when Zoe got sick a couple of days before they had to leave. This left Chloe in a dilemma, for she did not want to go by herself. So, she invited the next best person: Luka. Although he was not too sure about the idea initially, the next day at work he mentioned he bought a plane ticket to London. Chloe’s smile almost consumed her face when she heard the news.

“Well, you didn’t have to come,” Chloe said as she showed her ticket to the man standing by the door. “Didn’t you have to work this weekend?”

Luka, who was behind her, showed his ticket as well. “Yeah, but I figured I could take a weekend off. It’s been a while since I went out.”

“Don’t you go out with your bandmates for drinks after every gig?”

“That’s different.”

“I’m guessing that’s on account of work?”

Luka smiled playfully. “You could call it that.”

Both got onto the plane, walking single file across a one-way before arriving at their seats. 

Chloe glanced over at the other rows: a college student, absentmindedly playing mobile games on his phone; an old man, who was already sleeping by the way he snored; a mom trying to calm her emotional child; a woman chatting with the person next to her, who looked miserable in her company. She let out a breath of relief…at least she wasn’t sitting next to an annoying person.

They slid into their seats, their carry-on bags wedged in between their calves. Now, all they had to do was wait until the plane took off for London. 

“Wake me up when we are there,” Luka told her, rolling his shoulders back. 

Chloe said nothing as she peeled the latest gossip magazine open and began to read the latest news on Trinity Salford’s fourth marriage. 

They arrived in London an hour and fifteen minutes later, and it was at this point that she encountered the hardest part about traveling: getting a ride out of the airport.

After many attempts at finding a cab, she finally settled on a guy from Lyft with a decent-sized white van, and was chill enough not to ask too much about their trip. She always found the idea of hitching a ride from paid strangers a little odd. Despite that, she gave him a generous tip.

Chloe felt better when they got to the hotel room, as she kicked off her black clad heels and fell face-first onto the bed. Thank goodness she got two beds for the hotel instead of one.

“Tired already?”

“Ugh, you cannot even imagine,” she muffled into the bed. 

“Well, rest up, because we are going out tonight.”

Chloe rolled off her stomach, exasperated. “Oh, come on. I was ready to binge-watch Crazy Rich Asians. For the third time.”

“I didn’t take off work to sit and rot in a hotel.”

“I guess you're right,” she sighed, though a twinge of guilt surfaced in her mind. She did drag him into this mess, after all; it was only fair that she do things he would want to do, too.

“Though Crazy Rich Asians is a good pick.”

Chloe perked up. “You’ve watched it?”

“Eh, just a couple of episodes.”

“You need to finish it.”

“I will. In fact, I will start episode two tonight.”

“Geez, you really need to catch up.”

Luka laughed as he scrolled through his phone. “So…where should we go tonight?”

Chloe straightened up, tucking her knees underneath her butt. “Hmm…I know that London has a lot of bookstores. Maybe we could start there and see what's available? Hit up a bar later?”

“That sounds good to me. Be ready in half an hour?”

“Sure.”

It did not take them too long to find a bookstore when they reached downtown, for they ran into a used bookstore only a couple blocks down from their hotel. 

“I didn’t know you liked to read,” Luka said, entering the shop behind her.

“Eh, well, not really,” Chloe mentioned, scanning the room. “I just like to shop, that’s all.”

The bookstore they entered was a quaint space, and could be considered claustrophobic. Books of all sizes and page lengths lined the five vertical shelves in the middle, ranging from manga to novels to books that looked to be full dictionaries. To add to the chaotic space, the cashier’s desk was littered with papers, and a column of books teetered over the counter. The room smelled like paper, and the carpet looked worn. At a mere glance, people would never understand why book nerds would find comfort in a place like this. Chloe, in some capacity, did not either. 

It only took five minutes for Chloe to lose interest in the shop and want to leave. “Luka?” she called, directing her voice to the bunches of people in the narrow stretches. Many people turned their heads, attention snapped, and eyes went distant. Chloe felt very unnerved. Maybe she will never understand. 

“Luka—” she said, catching herself as she whipped around the back corner. 

Luka was browsing the fiction shelf, a novel planted in his cracked hands. The book was a smaller width, with a cream spine titled The Notebook. He looked at the summary with curiosity in his eyes and was about to open the book when he spotted Chloe. He slammed it shut and put it back quickly. 

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.”

Chloe’s eyes darted towards The Notebook, which sat on a high shelf. “You are a horrible liar, you know that?”

Luka sighed, his ears a little pink. 

Chloe reached for the book, which fell into her hand with ease, and she browsed through the pages. “I’ve read this book, by the way,” she mentioned briefly. “It’s pretty good. I think you should get it.” She handed the book back to Luka, who stiffly accepted it. Chloe wanted to laugh; she loved seeing him squirm. “By the way, this book will make you cry. For spoilers.”

“Good to know,” Luka said, rolling his eyes jokingly. “You're not going to make fun of me?”

“Come on now. Anyone can read a romance book. Besides,” she gave out a small smile, “I think the most captivating stories are about love.”

Luka glanced at her appreciatively. “Anyway,” she continued, “I’m going to the next store down. Are you coming with me?”

Luka pondered this suggestion before replying, “Actually, I’m going to stay here for a minute. Is that okay with you?”

Chloe nodded. “Yeah. I’ll just be in the shop next door.” 

After he nodded, he turned back, continuing his quest. With that, she left the store, tipping the ringing bell. 

She still did not understand why people liked to spend hours wandering in a bookstore. They were just a collection of papers glued together with words. There were better things to spend money on: food, clothes, personal hygiene care, and the list went on. Additionally, her mind would also begin to wander a lot while she read. Maybe that's why she is always hesitant to pick up a book.

But, she thought of Luka, whose pensive eyes scanned the spines littered in the tall shelves, hungry for something beyond reality. How many times has she wished that she could escape for just a moment, into a world that wasn’t the one she lived in? How many times has she wanted to crawl into the skin of someone else and live their life through their stories? 

Chloe scoffed lightly as she peered into the trinket store next door. Maybe I should try out an audiobook.

Nightlife was good in London, though she really did not remember much about it. There were multiple rounds of drinks, ranging from seltzers to dazzling cocktails. She vaguely remembered the shape of other strangers outlined in her vision, drunkenly engaged in conversation with her. Then, a moment passed, and she was laughing with another woman about something funny. It was so strange how friendly everyone was. Then there was the way Luka’s hand made contact with her shoulder as he slumped towards her, tired and maybe a little drunk…possibly more drunk than she thought…

Her eyes snapped open, facing the ceiling. Afternoon daylight peeked through the curtains as she sat up, her back stiffening from sleep. Huh, she thought, looking down, I didn’t even change. I must have been wasted last night. 

She glanced at the clock, and her eyes bulged. 13:00?! 

This was not good. The fashion show started at 15:00, and she needed at least two hours to properly get ready. 

“Shit,” she cursed, flailing out of bed, and gathering her hair into a bonnet. 

“What’s up?” Luka said sleepily, waking up from slumber. He seemed not to have changed either from last night, though some of the buttons on his shirt were loosely undone. 

“Fashion show starts at 13:00,” Chloe said in a breathless tone, racing to get her towel. “I need to get ready.”

Luka blinked for a moment. “Alright,” he grumbled, landing back into the bed, “Take your time.”

Chloe’s face flashed a look of disbelief before she huffed and entered the bathroom with a towel in hand. 

This woman had never felt more rushed in her life. Her plan to look extravagant and elegant went completely down the drain: her makeup felt rushed, and her curled hair fell into uneven waves that she had no time to fix. Mentally, she screamed, for all she felt was underprepared and gauche. 

It would be two hours before she heard a shuffle out of the bed, walking towards the bathroom door. “Are you almost done?” Luka asked, knocking on the door. “We need to go.”

Chloe rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Yeah, give me two minutes,” she said as she carefully lined her lips a bright, bold red. 

“You said that ten minutes ago when I asked before.”

“I mean it this time.”

“You better,” he grumbled.

Men, she thought with disdain as she colored in the lips, smacking them together. They don’t know the first thing about getting ready for these kinds of events. But, he was right: they would be late if she stayed in this bathroom any longer. Sighing, she tilted her head in the mirror, checking her full face of makeup, before she self-consciously walked out of the bathroom. 

Luka sat on the bed, adjusting his tie, when his eyes lifted to look at Chloe. “That dress looks good on you.”

The dress she wore was a long, midnight blue dress with a Sabrina neckline and cold shoulder sleeves added to the top. It was a mermaid-style dress, with the dress clinging to her hips a little too snug, and the bottom billowing out slightly. The look was rather simple for a fashion event like this, but with everything else going on in her life, she didn’t have enough time to style it properly. She hoped the silver jewelry added something to the look. 

“Thank you. I found it in the thrift store about a week ago. However, I did have to alter and change the hemming of the bottom.”

“That’s impressive,” he whistled.

“Why, thank you,” Chloe cooed. She then surveyed Luka’s look for the fashion event: tied-back hair, stubbled beard, and a fit navy blue tuxedo that was a little wrinkled but was passable for an event like this. “You don’t look too bad yourself,” she remarked, “Though I didn’t plan on matching.”

Luka looked at his suit. “I didn’t even realize,” he stated, a grin splitting onto his face. “I hope that’s okay with you?”

“Yeah, that’s fine with me.”

Though something was off with the look, and Chloe couldn’t figure out what it was—

Her gaze locked on a piece of his hair that fell out of his updo. “Wait, give me a minute,” Chloe said as she headed back into the bathroom to grab some gel and bobby pins.

“What now—”

“I need to fix your hair,” Chloe said, setting down the gel and bobby pins on the hotel desk and holding his chin.

Luka stiffened when her hand took hold of the lock of hair. “Huh?” 

“Just…hold still for a minute.”

Luka raised an eyebrow, but stood there patiently as Chloe fixed his hair. Despite his hair being dyed at the ends, Chloe felt no signs of breakage or dryness. Damn, what kind of product does he use? she thought, recalling her own split ends. I might need to ask later. 

With gel on the tip of her finger, she smoothed it onto his hair. They were very close now, with the tip of Chloe’s nose almost touching his forehead. If she angled herself just right, maybe her lips would plant right—

“There,” Chloe said, sliding two bobby pins into his scalp to secure his hair. Quickly, she moved away from him, a flurry of nerves filling her stomach for some unexplained reason. What the heck was I thinking?

“Do I look alright now?” Luka questioned. 

She looked back, a glimpse of uncertainty showing on her face. “Yeah, you look good. Let’s go.” As Chloe walked away and fiddled with the keys, Luka continued to stare at her, dazed.

 The Gabriel Agreste fashion show took place at Somerset House, which was roughly fifteen minutes by car. Traffic was worse than Chloe expected, with all of the cars seemingly driving towards the same place they were. 

“Could they go any faster?” Chloe hissed under her breath. 

“Chloe, not so loud,” Luka whispered, worried the man driving could hear them. 

The taxi they were in suddenly jolted, a honk sounding from outside. 

“You think they are all going to the fashion show?”

“Not the one we are going to.”

Luka raised an eyebrow. “There’s more than one fashion show going on during fashion week,” Chloe clarified. “London Fashion Week is a huge event worldwide. Many of these showings overlap with others, so it is practically impossible to go to all of them.”

“You seem to know a lot.”

Chloe tensed a little. “Yeah. I used to go to a lot of these when I was a kid.”

The driver merely side-eyed her as they drove on, turning towards the drop-off area by Somerset House. 

It was a grandiose building, much like the other fine neoclassical architecture in Paris. Built by brick and designed in the shape of a U, Somerset House covered a lot of area. Tall windows spanned throughout the entire house, and pillars held the centerpiece that captured the eye of many. There were openings at the different sides of the building, and Chloe knew that beyond them was a beautifully tended garden.  

What was different about the first time being here and now was that there was a tent in the center of the plaza. 

Both of them got out of the car, approaching the looming piece of craftsmanship. Chloe heard from her father that it took twenty five years to build this place. She never paid too much attention to history. If she even had an interest in it, she would have realized sooner how astonishing and meticulous builders had to be to build something so astounding.

They arrived at the event ten minutes before the show started. Although not late, Chloe felt her feet quicken with haste. 

“Can we slow down?” Luka said through a shallow breath.

“I want to get there on time.”

“We’ll make it in time. The area is not too hard to navigate.”

Chloe huffed. “Maybe we should pick up the pace.”

Luka let out a noise of exasperation before following her towards two propped open doors, with bodyguards perched at both sides. One was short and lanky, while the other had leaner muscle and a tall frame.

“Ticket please,” the short guy asked, activating his scanner. 

Wordlessly, they scanned their tickets. “Nice dress,” he complimented, as they made their way out. Chloe only gave a smile and nodded in acknowledgement. 

It was low-lit and dark inside. The walls were draped in black tapestry throughout the room, and there were five sections to seating arrangements, each lined with 12 rows of seats. The back of the runway sported Gabriel's logo, and the elongated plank was a polished white that hardly reflected the blinding lights up top, currently being adjusted by the backstage crew clad in black. Ushers were placed in different areas of the seating, acting as guide maps to the shuffle of people lined up, confused about where to sit. 

Chloe walked down the foldable stairs, browsing for their aisle, when she bumped into someone by accident. Sparkling champagne spilled on his shirt as he jolted forward.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” Chloe started, hands flying in surrender. “Do you want me to get some napkins for you?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” he said, turning around, “This is an old suit anyway—Chloe?”

Chloe furrowed her eyebrows with puzzlement. I’ve seen him before, she thought, before realization dawned on her. She smiled joyfully. “Francis! Oh, it is good to see you!”

Besides being a well-known wedding dress designer, Francis Doront was a well-met acquaintance of the Bourgeois family. Chloe first met him when she was a little girl attending her third gala. Initially, she found him quite intimidating: tall with wide shoulders, harsh grey eyes, a set jaw, and thin-lipped. It didn’t help that he wore a black tie, shirt, tuxedo, and had a multitude of giant champion rings on his hand. This was the standard mafia boss look she would watch in TV shows. She remembered thinking, I gotta avoid this guy. 

However, at one point in the gala, Chloe was seated by herself at a table. Her parents were over at another group of high-profile adults, laughing and swirling their drinks in soft, slow circles. She searched for Adrien and Felix in the crowd an hour before, but after she concluded that they weren’t here, she sat at the white, draped table forlorn. That’s when Francis showed up and took a seat next to her. 

At first, Chloe didn’t want to talk to him. He was scary and had a mean look in his eye earlier when she first saw him. But, she didn’t want to be rude. So, she shrugged her shoulders and nodded along as he began to talk. Although Chloe was apprehensive of the man, the more he started talking, the less scary he seemed. Rather, he was a very sweet, gentle guy who had an aversion to crowds. 

From then on, she would make it to talk to Francis at every gala throughout the years. When things were boring or overall uncomfortable, she would retreat to the corner and see Francis down a bottle of fresh white wine. She would talk to him about everything and nothing: School, boy problems, family expectations, you name it. To Chloe, he was a part of her own family and a reliable gala friend who would sneak her wine when she got older. 

However, she hadn’t seen him in years after she stopped attending high-class events with the Bourgeois family. 

Despite that, he acted like nothing had changed as he clasped Chloe’s shoulder. “How have you been?” he said jovially, shaking her lightly. “Haven’t seen you since…I forgot, it’s been so long.”

“Me too,” Chloe said, laughing. “I missed you. How’s business?”

“Doing really well. I’m set to retire after next year.”

“Wow! Francis, I’m so glad. You deserve a break.”

Francis whipped out his pearly white smile affectionately before turning to Luka, who was behind her. “Who’s this?”

“This is Luka, my friend.”

Luka held out his hand, with Francis grasping it firmly in return. “Hello. It’s good to meet you.”

“Good to meet you too.” Francis raised his eyebrow, a smug expression on his face. “I notice you guys are matching.”

Chloe smiled tightly. “It wasn’t planned.”

“Ah, sure. Want to chat a little more at the celebrations?”

“Sure.”

With a turn, he walked forward, joining another older woman in the very front row. She had an elegant face and a softened smile as he set his hand on hers. A teasing smile crept up Chloe’s features. I can’t wait to catch up with him, Chloe thought, sliding into their seats. 

Luka checked his phone. “Two minutes until the show starts.”

“Perfect. No idle time.”

“How long are these shows again?”

“About two hours.”

Luka looked like he was going to die. “What?” Chloe asked, a puzzled look crossing her face. “Have you never been to one of these before?”

He deadpanned. “Do you think I go to these things?”

Chloe’s lips thinned, and she faced away from him. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Apology accepted.”

The lights began to dim even further in the room, a telltale sign that the event was going to begin. 

Just then, Luka leaned forward, his arm brushing against hers. Chloe stiffened slightly. He’s too close, she thought, quietly short-circuiting. Way too close. He tilted his head, his hot breath against her ear. “Don’t get mad if I fall asleep during this show,” he whispered, a playful smirk forming. 

Heat crept up Chloe’s neck, and pink filled her cheeks. What the heck? 

She crossed her arms, averting her eyes from him. “I’ll pinch you in the arm if you do.”

The fashion show was quicker than expected, finishing in about an hour or so. Chloe forgot why she liked fashion shows so much until she attended one again. The models strutted the runway, a vogue-esque expression on their faces as they sported elaborate styles. 

Gabriel as a company did a good job managing their design team: the fall theme was on point, the models were diverse enough, and each stitch of fabric seemed purposeful. Of course, there were some designs Chloe liked better than others. There was a woman who wore a white high-collared dress that was armless. Maybe Gabriel was exploring abstract, but instead the model looked like she was stuffed in a tuba. It was an utterly hideous dress.

Despite her gripes with the unwearable garment, there was a reason that Gabriel was a dominating company in the fashion world. At every glance, fashion gurus and journalists were reporting their findings, finding a way to replicate or capitalize on what Gabriel created. Even Chloe brought a small notebook and pen to note some ideas sparked during the event.

However, Luka was not as productive. Thirty minutes in, she caught him napping in his chair. His ankles were crossed, and his head was tilted back to face the ceiling, eyes shut. Chloe could not blame him: the room was dark and warm. 

She thought about pinching him like she said she would. If not that, just merely nudging his arm a little so he would wake up. Chloe saw the cameras roaming around the vicinity, and she did not want a cameo of him asleep anywhere on the internet. However, she also noticed the tired look around his eyes when they were getting ready. Maybe it would do him good to catch up on sleep, she thought. We do have the afterparty, after all. 

Plus, he looked very peaceful while sleeping. Therefore, she put off waking him up until the end of the fashion show, when the lights suddenly brightened. 

Luka’s eyes winced under the light and rapidly fluttered open. “It’s over already?” 

“Yeah. You slept through all of it.”

“Did I?” He rubbed his eyes. “Whoops, sorry. Did I miss anything?”

“It’s alright. And no, you didn’t.” Chloe got out of her chair, smoothing out her dress. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

The afterparty was located at a terrace upstairs from the venue, a couple of doors down from the stairs they took. The doors were propped open for easy access, and when the pair entered outside, they noticed a big open white tent swamped with people. Food was placed at the center of the sheltered area, and round tables were situated all over the place. Beyond the tent, there was a patioed dance floor and a DJ setting up her equipment. Chloe spotted the minibar built into the terrace, which was overrun by loud noise and the clink of glass. She made a mental note to go over there at some point during the night. 

“Where do you want to sit?” Chloe asked, filing into the line of people shuffling into the tent. 

“I don’t really care—” 

“Is that Jagged Stone?” a girl in red whispered to her friend. 

“What—Oh my gosh, it is!” 

They pointed to the figure in the middle, chatting it up with a dapper fellow to his left. Jagged Stone’s appearance hasn’t changed too much: shaggy hair with dyed purple tips, black beard, blue eyes, and layered eyeshadow. However, Chloe could tell by the indented smile lines that he’s gotten older. 

“I can’t believe it!” the girl in red squealed. “We need to get his autograph…”

As the girls chattered in front of them, Chloe turned to Luka. “I didn’t expect Jagged Stone to be here—”

“Could we sit there?” Luka asked as he pointed to the far end, cutting her off. His voice seemed tense, his posture shifted. 

Her brows raised in spiked curiosity. This is the second time he’s acted weird when I mentioned his name. But, it was best not to bring it up; instead, she said, “Sure,” dropped her bags at the farthest table, and took a seat. 

The caterers came by their table ten minutes later, with two plates for each of them. Sushi, jasmine rice, slices of avocado, and miniature slices of grilled salmon, along with a light salad, were plated elegantly, and as usual with these high-profile banquets, the food was delicious. 

She cleared her plate with ease, and just as she was about to flag another waiter over, she glanced over at Luka. He frowned at his food, sullenly picking up a piece of salmon with his fork. “Is everything alright?” she asked carefully, setting her salad fork down.

He gave her a half-hearted smile. “Not really. I didn’t expect to see my dad here.”

“I’m sorry—wait—your father?!”

“Yeah…”

Chloe audibly gasped. “I know I should have told you,” he spoke quickly, anticipating her next question, “But…it’s always a little hard to talk about him in general. So, um… I hope that doesn’t make you too mad.”

“No, why would I be mad at that?” Chloe set her elbows on the table, her head propped by her hands. “I don’t like talking about my parents too much either. But, still…” she looked down at the table, “Jagged Stone is an incredibly famous guy, and he has good relations with the Agreste family. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I knew you were uncomfortable around him.”

Luka leaned against the chair, sighing. “I hope this doesn’t turn into an awkward night.”

“I’m prepared for that to happen. I just know my mom is around here, lurking—” she stopped short as her eye caught on a glittery hat and sleek figure sitting a couple tables down. Sharp, blue eyes, and a feline face. “There she is,” Chloe said tensely as Luka followed her eyes. “It didn't take too long to find her.”

“She looks…glittery.”

Indeed, she did, wearing a diamond-encrusted sleeveless top, and sheer, silver pants that shimmered in every direction the fabric turned. The outfit looked like it was worth the equivalent of two large mansions and a Lexus, which was a tell-tale sign that the fashion tycoon meant business. 

However, Chloe just wanted to laugh because she thought her outfit looked ridiculous. 

“You don’t have to be nice about it,” Chloe mentioned, clicking her tongue, “It just looks tacky.”

Luka spluttered in his drink, holding back his laughter. 

“What’s so funny?” 

Luka pointed over to Audrey’s table, and Chloe looked over to find her mother staring at them. Then, she saw her get up and power-stride towards their table.

“Shit,” Chloe hissed, gathering her dress and exiting from her chair. 

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere where I can lose her for a bit.”

“Okay, I’ll just stay here.”

Thus, Chloe began her dutiful exit, taking one last glance at Luka before she began to swivel and dodge the many groups of people clustered around each table. She could feel her mother on her heel; that woman was many things, including a speed walker. Going to this was a stupid idea, she thought to herself. Why did I do these things to myself?

Just then, she heard a noise of distress come from her left. A man was cornering a woman, attempting to seduce her with little success. His hand was firmly on her wrist, and his nose was inching closer and closer to the woman, who looked increasingly uncomfortable with every moment. Chloe usually ignores these types of instances, for it's so awkward when people get the wrong idea about scenarios such as this. Additionally, people often get so tipsy that they don’t remember what interactions they’ve had with other people, especially at large parties. 

However, despite being slightly afraid of getting the wrong idea, she crossed the crowd and set her hand firmly on the man’s wrist. “Hey girl,” she said in a makeshift slur, turning to the woman, “Wanna get some drinks? There’s an open spot at the minibar.”

The woman, who was initially stunned, swallowed. “That would be great,” she said with a mellow voice. 

Chloe yanked the man’s hand off and interlaced her hand with the woman’s. “Let's go,” she said, leading her away from the man. “It’s time to get some drinks.” Through the corner of her eye, she could see the man fuming as they weaved through the crowd, trying to find a way outside. 

“Thanks,” the woman called, still holding Chloe’s hand. 

“Are you okay?”

“Eh, I could be better.”

They made their way outside, the brisk air hitting their skin. 

“Pooh, it’s a little cold,” the woman threw out, rubbing her arms in a constant motion. 

Chloe agreed vehemently. She could feel goosebumps crawl on her skin. 

“Um…my name is Isla Abate,” she spluttered awkwardly, tucking her dark hair behind her ear. 

“What’s your name?”

“Chloe.”

“Wait, like, Chloe Bourgeois.”

Chloe sucked in a breath. “Yup.”

“Oh my gosh, my uncle used to work at your family’s hotel!”

“He did?”

“Yeah, his name was Jean-Paul. He was a butler. Do you know him?”

Oh, she knew him all right. “No, unfortunately,” Chloe said, waving a hand, “I had a different butler. But he seems like a nice guy.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.”

“Anyways,” Chloe quickly said, hijacking the conversation, “What are you doing here?”

“Well, like many people here, I’m also a fashion designer. You?”

“Yeah, I'm also a fashion designer. Aspiring to be one, that is.”

Isla brightened. “Really? I would love to see your designs.”

“Oh, I’ve just started designing professionally about three months ago, I wouldn’t say I’m great—”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” she said in a leering voice. 

Chloe merely rolled her eyes. “Shouldn’t you be networking?”

Isla’s eyes flickered towards the tent, a hint of ambition in her eye. Then, in a blink, she turned away from the noise, her eyes set on a stone-carved bench by the hedge. She plopped on the bench, her hands propping her face. “Sit.”

Chloe wordlessly nodded, sitting down. 

“Just to preface, if you need to lend an ear—”

“Where to begin?” she cut in dramatically. “I started making my own clothes when I was fifteen, went to fashion school for two years, worked a minimum wage job at Clear bucks, and I started officially submitting my designs about a year ago. Like many, many other designers, I come here to network.” Isla looked down at her shoes. “Though I don’t think I’m doing a good job with it. Every time I try to approach a big-name CEO or lead designer, I get very flustered and tongue-tied. I know I’m a competent designer, and I want to work with them. It’s just…I see them as gods.” She looked at Chloe meaningfully. “Sometimes, people are just too powerful to associate yourself with, don’t you agree?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said, hushed, “I feel crass compared to those guys.”

Isla laughed at that comment. “It must be easier for you, though. Your mom’s a world-renowned fashion designer, and you're probably rich enough to get away with a little bad behavior. Surely she can pull some strings for you?”

Chloe winced. “Mom and I are not on good terms right now.”

She paused, her mouth slightly parted. “Oh. Oh, I’m sorry—”

“No, it’s fine, you wouldn’t have known.” Chloe sighed and leaned on her palms, tilting her head back to inhale the evening air. “I’ve learned a long time ago that if I want something done on my terms, I have to do it myself.”

Isla gave out a half-hearted chuckle. “Sounds about right.”

Chloe continued to look at the sky, noting the quiet sunset as orange clouds increased in saturation. There was an idea that entertained her head, and warranted more time to sit and think on it before suggesting it. For starters, Chloe didn’t know Isla at all beyond the conversation they just shared. Not even her favorite color, which is a question that one masters in the Intro to Socialization class. Her designs might not be that good. But Chloe couldn’t hold her tongue and blurt out—

“What if we did a fashion show together?”

Isla raised her brow in curiosity. “We just met.”

“I know, I know,” Chloe said, retreating. “But, I just…like your vibe, and I think we could bring something awesome to the table.”

Isla’s finger tapped while she pondered the idea. “You know what,” she started, “You're right. Plus, it could help us get our names out there.”

“Exactly. Wait, what’s your phone number?” 

“Here.” After exchanging contacts, Chloe began to formulate venue ideas for their joint show mentally. Where to start? Maybe at a historic house? The Louvre would also be cool, though. Wait, how about something cheaper— 

The tent flap opened, and Luka stepped out. “There you are,” Luka said with a lopsided grin, “I’ve been looking for you.”

Chloe’s head swiveled to look at him, popping her own mental bubble. “Hi, Luka,” she said plainly. “This is Isla. She’s another fellow designer, and we were just talking about a possible show.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” she said shyly, waving awkwardly. 

Luka nodded. “Sounds awesome. But the music just began to play, and I say we should go out there and dance.”

Chloe’s head reeled back in surprise. Huh? 

No one has ever asked Chloe to dance with her. It wasn’t because she was unnoticed by the boys; she knew of many who had full-blown crushes on her. However, her intimidating demeanor kept many at bay, especially the guys who had a lot of pride. There was one exception, but… 

He was really, really pathetic.

Chloe wondered if this was a prank, but she quickly shoved that idea out of the way. Luka was many things, but he would never disrespect her like that. 

“Sure,” she replied casually, as she hesitantly reached for his hand, which grappled with hers and interlaced them with his own. She looked over at Isla for permission to leave, to which she smiled and nodded. “I’ll see you later,” she said over Chloe’s shoulder. Chloe, in return, gave out a sheepish smile and returned to the tent.

The music was blaring through the wide speakers of the DJ set. Smiling, Luka pulled her onto the dance floor with light force. It was a sea of people, and with Chloe’s hand in tow, she felt like she was guided through a complicated, windy maze until they stopped in a relatively open space. 

“This is so stupid,” Chloe muttered under her breath. 

“You really thought you were going to get away without dancing?”

“Maybe.” 

Suddenly, the electronic beat stilled. A slow, elongated guitar string played in the background, creating a more romantic mood. The loud chatter died down, and couples grew closer in proximity, swaying to the music. 

Chloe grew increasingly stiff. “Okay, what are we doing again?” 

Luka glanced over to the other couples and shrugged. “I guess we follow their lead.” Suddenly, his hand snaked around her waist, exerting light force. Stunned, she gripped his shoulder with her left hand, with heat crept to her cheeks when she looked at Luka’s amused expression. Damnit. 

He extended her right hand, still interlaced with his own, and they began to side step minimally. She glanced over once more at everyone else on the dance floor: the women buried into the crook of their partner’s neck, the men grabbing their respective partners' buttocks like there’s no tomorrow. Compared to them, she and Luka seemed like a newly divorced couple.

But to Chloe, just the brush of his hand felt more intimate than the closest breath shared by any lovey-dovey partner.

Her hands grew clammy the more she entertained the thought of everything occurring. A brilliant shade of red grew on her cheeks, as she thought to herself,  Turn off your brain, turn off your brain, turn off your brain, turn off your brain, turn off your brain—

“For someone who proclaims they hate dancing, you're quite good at it.”

Chloe’s eyes snapped back up towards him. “I never said I hated dancing. When I was younger, my father made me take a class on ballroom dancing; not to brag, but I was pretty good at it.”

“Do you know the waltz?”

“Of course.”

“The Rumba?”

“Yes, but it is a little tricky.”

“The Cha-cha?”

“Eh, I don’t remember all the details of that one, but I bet I could pick it up once I see it again.”

“A woman of many talents, I see. Maybe you could teach me?”

Chloe hummed to herself. “Maybe when we get back to Paris.” She looked at the back corner, her mother swirling around her glass of white wine. “I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself tonight.”

“I get it,” Luka said in a low voice, following her gaze, “My dad’s here too, and it kind of makes things awkward for me too.”

Chloe chuckled to herself. “I guess we are both in a tight situation then.”

Luka lifted her arm above his head, twirling her. The sleek mermaid dress billowed at the bottom, her heel barely catching the fabric. She gave out a little smile at the thrill of it, and caught both of his arms, her fingers lightly set on his own. 

This is nice, she thought, creating more space between them. 

Suddenly, he yanked her towards him. With widened eyes, Chloe braced herself against his chest, slamming into him. Instinctively, his hands flew towards the small of his back, avoiding what could have been a fall on the floor. 

“Geez, why did you yank so hard?” she said, blinking reflexively. 

“I was just teasing,” he said, his eyes fluttering towards the top of her head. 

“Sure you were,” she said, faltering when she caught his eyes. 

They were complex shades of blue, interlaced with green; they shimmered under the light of the tiny chandelier hanging above them. For a minute, Chloe could do nothing but stare in fascination. They really are blue, she thought, mouth parted before quickly clamping it shut. What is wrong with me?

The music then stopped, and noisy chatter resumed. 

Chloe squirmed out of his embrace and swallowed slowly, trying to conceal the bobble in her throat. “Gosh, I’m parched,” she blurted, “I’ll be back.”

Quickly, she exited the dance floor, her heels clacking at a steady rhythm. 

“Chloe!” Francis called boastfully from the corner of the tent. “About time we decided to catch up.”

“Yeah,” she said abruptly, pouring herself a large cup of bitter red wine. “I’m so glad the alcohol is free at these events. I would not want to know the bill for this bottle.”

“Always will be,” he called, taking a large sip of bottled beer.

Chloe raised a brow. “You used to drink a lot of wine. What changed?”

“Hm, I don’t know. I guess I like the taste better.”

“That’s a drastic switch.”

“It’s not too crazy now.”

“I’m guessing old age has changed your preferences?”

“Hey now, I’m not too old.”

They laughed as both took a minute to drink their beverages. Chloe downed her wineglass with two gulps, setting it down on a small table, and grabbing the wine bottle to pour more.

Francis’s eyes moved towards the glass. “Easy there, child,” he said. “That wine’s pretty strong.”

“I have a strong tolerance to alcohol.”

Francis shifted his weight to face her. “Something's keeping you up, isn’t there?”

Chloe paused, her smile dropping. Yes, she thought. Yes, there is. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Oh, come on! Why won’t you tell a sad old man your woes?”

“Oh, I don’t think you're too sad,” she said teasingly, abruptly changing the subject, “I saw you with your lady friend at the fashion show today.” She watched as Francis’ cheeks grew slightly rosy, continuing to pour her drink. “Cute lady, by the way. She seems smitten by you.”

“Her name’s Dorothea,” he said quietly. “We’ve been keeping our relationship private for the moment. Nicest woman I know.” He gave out a little smile. “I will admit, I am a little smitten with her, too.”

She stopped pouring, swirling the blood red wine lightly. “I’m happy for you.”

“Alright, enough with me. What about you?”

“What do you mean, what about me?”

“Come on, you and that Luka kiddo are dating, aren’t you?”

At first, Chloe didn’t know what to say. Then, she burst out laughing. “Oh, Francis,” she said, now in tears, “We are definitely not dating.”

Francis’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “But you guys are something, aren’t you?

Chloe wasn’t quick to respond in that regard. What she felt, on that dance floor…

She sighed with her hand on the table, shifting her body weight into her right leg. “If I’m going to be honest here, I don’t know. It’s…” Chloe paused, trying to get her train of thought together. 

Why was she having these feelings? He wasn’t doing anything new. He’s been acting like himself the entire time they’ve gotten to London: easy to talk to, teasing at times, patient, sincere. So why was it different when she studied his quiet demeanor as he scanned the books? Why was it different when she fixed his hair? Why was it different when he brushed her arm? Why was it different when he whispered in her ear? Why was it different when his hand moved to her waist when they danced in synchronization? It was all so…

“...Confusing,” she breathed out, snapping her attention back into the present moment. 

Francis nodded in acknowledgement. “I see. Feelings can be quite a web to untangle.”

“But,” she continued, “I don’t know if I want it to be something. Francis, I have so much baggage to deal with. He has two jobs and his mother to take care of, alongside his sister whom I don’t have a good history with. Something like that would not only be a stressor, but also his reputation would be soiled.”

Francis’ eyes softened. “Dear, I hope you come to recognize that you're not the villain in everyone’s story.”

Chloe barked a laugh. “But I am. Half the people in Paris either know me or hate me. Chloe’s eyelids dropped to the floor. “Sometimes, those first impressions just stick with you, and no amount of good deeds can change that.”

Chloe got to the end of her drink and set the empty glass down on the small table once more. “I’ll be back,” she said, turning around to fetch another drink when Francis interjected. 

“Hypothetically, if you like him, I say go for it.” He lifted his bottle with encouragement. “You’ll never know what will come out of it.”

Chloe smiled half-heartedly over her shoulder. “I’ll never understand you.”

The bar was crammed tight with people. Chloe felt nothing short of pity for the workers; one especially looked bug-eyed and stressed from the number of people from outside, waving their orders on a piece of paper. 

“Can I borrow your menu?” Chloe asked, pointing to it. 

The man turned around, drunk-dazed. “Yeah. Here.”

He handed her the menu, leaving her to browse through it. I need something a bit stronger than the wine. Maybe a cocktail, she thought. Sounds good. Suddenly, someone bumped into her, spilling the cocktail in her hand all over the front of Chloe’s dress. 

“Sorry, I didn’t—oh, it’s you.”

Chloe looked up from the spilled wine and paled. Sabrina.

She hadn’t changed too much: round face, big blue eyes, and pale skin with freckles. The only thing that noticeably changed was that her hair was neatly bobbed to her ear, and looked like it was recently dyed a light strawberry blonde. Her once spotted-rimmed glasses were now black, and she wore a white button-up under a fitting black pantsuit that cropped just above her ankle. It gave off an intimidating aura, a word that Chloe would have never used to describe Sabrina before.

“What are you doing here?” Chloe croaked, her eyes trying to find anything to look at but her. 

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” Sabrina said with a haughty voice. “I’m Marinette’s PR manager, after all.”

Chloe really wanted to ask how the hell she got that job, but held her tongue. She’s been getting better at it as of recently.

 “Now,” Sabrina continued, cocking her head in a mocking manner, “What are you doing here?” 

“I won a raffle for tickets.”

“Did you? Or was it daddy’s money?”

Chloe’s cheeks heated with anger. “My father actually died a couple of months ago, but thank you for asking.”

To this information, Sabrina seemed genuinely shocked, her shoulders slumping. “I’m so sorry,” she said, deflated, “How’s your sister doing?”

“She’s managing.”

“Is she here?”

“No.”

“I see.”

They stood in awkward silence for a moment, Sabrina’s eyes trained to the ground. “Well, if you don’t mind, I am going to get a drink—”

“Wait. Um…” Chloe looked around the room, and noticed many perked ears and eyes wandering over to the pair. 

Sabrina’s eyes flickered over to Chloe, noting the stares. “Could we talk about this outside?” she said calmly.

Chloe nodded, and they walked outside the tent. Sabrina led the way, crossing the large patio before ending up in a small rose garden, with a little wooden bench by the end. Chloe could tell the garden was well kept, for even in autumn, the white roses still looked fresh. Eventually, they crossed over a small bridge, and came across two wooden benches to sit at. Each took their seats respectively, with Chloe’s hands curled at her sides, and Sabrina’s hands peacefully set on her knees. 

“Well,” Sabrina started, her voice assertive, “What did you want to tell me?”

Chloe chewed her lip. “I…um…wanted to say I’m sorry for bumping into you, and spilling your wine.”

Sabrina’s eyebrows contorted together in frustration, before getting up quickly. “I’ll just take my leave—”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant.” 

“Then cut the bullshit” Sabrina said, whirling around. Pain coursed through her eyes. “What do you actually want to apologize for?”

There was a lot that Chloe needed to apologize for. Making Sabrina hold all of their bags when they went shopping, paying for every meal. Forcing Sabrina to participate in her antics, and do her dirty work. Making Sabrina do all of her homework, and locking her in the closet from the outside. Getting her dad fired because he gave her a speeding ticket. And many, many other things… 

Sabrina did voluntarily choose to hang out with Chloe back then. But still…they had a connection. Sabrina tried to be there for her throughout the ups and downs, and Chloe treated her like a tool. She was as much of a victim as everyone else she tormented.

“I’m sorry for never treating you like a friend,” she said quietly. She could feel Sabrina’s mouth part with surprise. “The things I did to you were wrong. What I did to your dad was wrong, he didn’t deserve to be screwed over like that. I was selfish—” she choked up at the last word, refusing to look Sabrina in the eye “一And every night, I lay sleepless, regretful of causing you so much pain when you didn’t deserve it, and I’m so glad I ran into you so I could finally tell you.” By this point, Chloe was tearful, carelessly wiping her eyes and fudging her mascara. It was such an embarrassing sight, but all of those memories flooded through her mind and made her hear hurt. 

Sabrina bit her lip, holding back emotion. “I…I don’t know what to say…”

“Would you ever forgive me?”

Sabrina’s eyes began to fill with a burning anger, her lips thinning. “Ah. I see how it is. You just want to feel better about yourself.”

Chloe began to panic. “No, I wasn’t trying to ask—”

“What makes you think you deserve my respect?” she cried. “For all I know, you’ve always treated me like a dog.”

Chloe’s heart stopped. “I—”

“You’ve always been nothing but horrible to me.”

“I mean, that’s entirely not true—“

“Name one time you were nice to me.”

Chloe opened her mouth, but the words died out. They may have had their ups and downs, but surely there were some good memories, right? But all Chloe could draw was an empty line. 

“I was a teenager,” she said quietly, trying to justify herself, “I’ve also had family issues on top of that.” 

“My mom left me when I was six years old, and I never used that as an excuse to be intentionally cruel to people. Locking me in the closet, telling me that I’m useless and worthless, and getting my father fired for simply doing his job. Why aren’t I allowed to be mean to you? Isn’t it just retribution for what you did to me?”

Chloe’s eyes welled. “Sabrina, I…I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t,” Sabrina said, voice wavering, eyes glassy. “Don’t say you're sorry. I’ve given so much to you…forgiveness is the one thing I will never let you have.”

“Sabrina, wait—we were best friends—”

She turned away. “I have a husband. Kids. A stable career and a home. I don’t need you, I don’t want you in my life, and I hope to never see you again after today.” With that, she walked away quickly from the garden, through the patio, and into the tent. 

Chloe took her knees to her chest, buried her head, and began to cry bitterly.

A drink slid towards her, the bartender looking pitiful. “Your drink.” 

Chloe nodded, wordlessly accepted her drink, and swiveled to face the dance floor.

Why did I say that? 

Mixed emotions ran through her mind. Sadness that she lost a close friend for good, anger at the fact that Sabrina wouldn’t give her any closure, and dullness from the strong drink that she gulped down. 

“Are you ready to go?” Luka said, patting her on the shoulder. She almost forgot he was there.

“One more drink,” she said, her words blending into each other.

“Nah.” He reached over to grab her carefully under the armpit, hoisting her up with ease. “I don’t want you to drink too much.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Yes, I can,” he said, laughing. “I can already tell you're in a mood about something, and it's no good to drink your woes away.” She sighed into his shoulder, breathing in the smell of vanilla. “Alright, we can go,” she said clearly. “But, let me go to the bathroom first.” 

Luka unraveled his arm from her, and she walked towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. 

I forgot how much I needed to pee, she thought, faintly recalling the last time she went. Hopefully I’ll be quick…I hate those bathroom stalls so much. 

She entered the bathroom, hoisting her purse up, when she stopped dead in her tracks. 

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was in the bathroom. 

She was breathtaking. She wore a low-cut V-neck that had sheer, scattered crystals covering the center, long sleeves that were rolled up and lined with fur, and a draped skirt that was also cuffed with fur on the bottom. Her hair was straightened and pulled back in a half-up, half-down hairstyle, sprayed subtly with glitter spray. This was an elegant look, and it seems that she wasn’t alone in the bathroom. A gaggle of girls was all gathered in there, originally touching up their makeup before facing Chloe. 

Chloe could automatically see Marinette’s features switch up. “Let's go, ladies,” she said softly, “Someone needs to use the bathroom.”

The girls were all ushered out, their heels clacking and words hushed and lowered. “Chloe,” Marinette said with a tight smile, “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

She set her hand on Chloe’s shoulder, to which she got chills down her spine. Ladybug, she thought, taking in a shallow breath. “Yes,” she said, voice wavering, unsure of how to get out of this situation, “Well, I should really go to the—” 

But before she could say anything else, Marinette just squeezed her shoulder and simply walked away, leaving Chloe alone and full of disdain. 

“What’s on your mind?”

They walked on the dimly lit streets of London. Chloe wished that they had gotten a cab: her high heels dug into her feet, which made it hard to walk. But they both knew that drivers hiked their prices at night, particularly during Fashion Week, and transportation wasn’t included in the raffle bundle, and Chloe was on a budget. So, walking it was. 

She picked up a pebble on the street and threw it far. “A lot.”

“I saw you walk out with a girl who looks a lot like...Sabrina, was it? She was in your class, right? What was that about?”

“I would prefer not to talk about it.”

Luka nodded wordlessly and continued to walk. 

Chloe predicted he would ask, for he was always a little too curious, even though he never outwardly implied that. She would have told him about it, too; however, if she were to recount the events that occurred just an hour ago, she would start to cry in the middle of the street. That was a scene she vowed not to create. 

“Luka, I have a question, and I want you to be honest,” she asked, a little fearful of how he would respond, “Do you think I could ever become a likable person?”

Luka thought for a minute. “Eh, not really,” he stated flippantly. 

Chloe’s mouth hung open. “What do you mean?”

“I said what I said.”

“But could you explain why?”

They continued along the street, coming across a set of stone stairs that led to a barred beach. 

The ocean crashed against the shoreline, white foam remnants splayed on the ground. It lapped in a rhythmic motion, desperately stretching to grab land, but never quite succeeding. 

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Luka said at her side, also stopping and staring at the ocean. 

“I don’t think so. It seems scary, more than anything.”

“Sometimes the scariest forces of nature are the most wonderful things you’ll ever witness.”

A torrent of cold wind blustered from the ocean, raising the hairs of Chloe’s skin. She hugged her arms tightly. 

“Are you cold?” he asked.

Chloe looked out. “You're changing the subject.”

Luka sighed, giving into her demands. “Well, I should have rephrased my answer a little bit. I think you can become a likable person; it just takes time and garnering more empathy for others. However, the way you asked your question made it seem like you wanted to see if you had the potential to mold yourself into conformity. In the time I’ve known you, I can sense that you have a hard time changing old habits. Additionally, you kill yourself a little when you inconvenience yourself for the sake of others.” He took off his coat, giving it to Chloe, “Personally, I like how you are. Sharp, a little rough around the edges, and passionate about what you do.”

Chloe slid into the larger jacket, pulling up the zipper. “Let's go,” she called, striding at a fast pace. 

She didn’t want him to see her racing heart.

The next two days were spent lounging at the pool, and the constant pressure from Luka to convince Chloe to get in the water. 

“No way,” she said in a disgusted voice. She heard many stories about children in chlorinated pools, and didn’t feel like walking into pee water. 

“Come on, the water doesn't feel that bad.” 

He splashed her a little bit, to which she crawled further into the chair. “Stop that,” Chloe hissed through her teeth, holding her People magazine tightly to her chest. “I’m trying to relax.”

“You have to come in once.”

“I don’t want to get my hair wet.”

“Don’t you have a bonnet or something?”

“No.”

“Here.” Luka reached for his wrist, and took off the hairband that tied his hair back. “Use this to put your hair up.”

Chloe looked at him with apparent disgust. “That looks soggy.”

“Just use it.”

She really didn’t want to; it was wet with chlorine water. But lately, she’s had a hard time resisting him when he’s persistent. So, she took his hairband, tied her hair back, and crouched by the ledge of the pool.

“How deep is it here again?”

“Eh, it's about 1.524 meters (5 feet).”

“Okay, that doesn't seem too bad,” she said.

“See, you got this—”

Just then, a pair of kids began to run through the pool area, screaming with joy. Startled, Chloe tipped over and fell into the water. 

It was colder than she thought, but Chloe internally screamed with frustration as she broke the surface of the pool water. “Ugh!” she spat, “I inhaled so much water!”

Luka laughed heartily, his head thrown back. “I should have taken a video of it.”

Chloe pouted. “Great. My hair’s going to suffer so much breakage.”

“Oh, it’s just hair.”

She splashed him vigorously. “You can’t say that to a woman,” she said fervently as his hands flailed to deflect her assaults. “Hair is very important to a woman. Do you know how much my hair suffers from breakage and discoloration? This pool water’s going to make this worse!”

Her hair was in a messy topknot, and she was wet from pool water. This should have been her worst nightmare. 

But, as Luka continued to laugh, she couldn’t help but break out in laughter as well. 

She said goodbye to London after the third day. They checked into the plane and took their seats next to each other. Strange that we are going to be back in Paris, Chloe thought to herself, connecting her headphones to her phone. She would have liked to stay in London a little longer. Despite whatever transpired at the gala, the trip in her mind felt successful. She met Isla, got to eat good food, and hang out more with Luka…

The Luka Couffaine. 

It was weird how, for a year back, he was nothing more than a stranger to her. Her, a child of former nepotism: him, a hard-working busker in the streets of Paris. They were both so different from each other, so how was it that they crossed paths and became friends?

Chloe would never know the answer. All she knew was that they were friends, and there was a simple reason for this: she liked being around him. Luka was an attentive listener and held more empathy for others than she ever could, yet knew when to be firm. 

But most importantly, he makes her a better person. And she will forever be grateful for that.

What a good friend he was.

Chloe leaned on the wall of the plane, casting a look at the golden clouds that rested below. Back to Paris, she thought. 

She looked over at Luka again, who was asleep. Her heart fluttered slightly. Friends, she told herself.

Shadows shaped his jaw, and the crevices under his eyes suggested he was tired. His hair hung over his lids and splayed like ink over his shoulders, dyed tips saturated to the highest degree. It was a messy look, and his breath smelled foul right now. Despite that, all these unknown feelings stirred her stomach, and in turn, made her feel self-conscious. Chloe Bourgeois. How was that possible?

He opened his eyes and glanced at her. “What are you looking at?” he said, in a tired voice. The sun made his eyes shimmer, like jewels at the bottom of an ocean.

She got flashbacks to the gala. The way his hand carefully wrapped around her waist, standing so close. His eyes sparkled that day, too; the mere thought made her hands clammy. 

“The view,” she said, faster than intended, heat spreading on her cheeks. 

“Do you want to switch seats?”

“No, I’m okay,” she said. 

He shrugged. “Fine. I’m going to take a little siesta if that's fine with you.”

“Of course,” she spat out quickly, turning her face away from him. 

Badump.

Badump.

Badump.

Suddenly, everything began to fall into place.

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she had feelings for him that transcended the boundary of friendship and into something more than that. 

Chloe glanced at his hand that sat on the armrest. She wanted to hold his hand so badly, to feel the finger calluses that formed from the endless practice of playing guitar. It would be so simple to reach over and interlace their hands...

The plane jerked up, hitting turbulence. Chloe jumped, snapping out of her thoughts, blinking around the vicinity. Once her nerves calmed, she huffed out a groan, burying her face in her hands. Here she was, having a revelation in the airplane. 

How utterly ridiculous. 

[END OF PART 1]