ADRIEN

"Signore Agreste?" I turn towards the voice that called my name. Francesco Spalanzzani's intimidating figure weaves through the crowd, walking towards me. He flashes a bright smile and widens his arms at me. "Welcome, mio amico!!" He rests a hand on each shoulder and kisses both my cheeks.

"You arrived just in time!" He continues. "How did you arrive here in Assisi? How was the flight? Do you like the venue? I really made sure that I got to rent one part of the Basilica of Santo Francesco de Assisi!" As he started to bombard me with questions, I made sure to cut him off in order to answer his current questions.

"The flight to Rome was just an hour and a half, and the road trip to Assisi just took me an hour." I answer. "And what you did with the hall, I love it, signore!" I say, looking around the grand hall. Paintings of grandeur line the walls and different posts. The hall is illuminated by chandeliers of different sizes yet they bring a mesmerizing view if you look at the ceiling. Frescoes of the Italian Renaissance adorn the ceiling giving it a more amazing view.

"No no no no no!" He suddenly exclaims, catching me off-guard. "What did I tell you about calling me 'signore'? Ever since you graduated from my class, I told you to call me 'Pippo'! It's my turn to call you 'signore'!"

What I keep on forgetting about Italians is that they are always expressive in actions and words. It's something I admire about them because it's their excitement and happiness that radiates more from them rather than their worries and woes.

"Ah Pippo! I'm sorry, I'll keep that in mind from now on."

He wraps his arm around my shoulders and leads me to the first painting on display. "How about I show you around, personally? Think of it as a gift for my favorite student, eh?"

"Grazie, Pippo." I say, letting him lead me.

"So what is your main concept for this exhibit?" I ask after letting him introduce to me five paintings.

"Ah, I bought different paintings of amateur artists and displayed them in front of the elite. I believe that the best exposure they could get would be through someone who has a lot of connections." He explains.

"And I guess you are one of those people who has a ton of connections."

He shrugs his shoulders, "Sí, not that I'm bragging. Being a teacher helped me get to know a lot of people, and it has also helped me create new famous people like the person I'm talking to right now."

I scoff, "You really know how to let a man feel full of himself. And enough about us, tell me everything about the exhibit- area, people involved and such."

"I'd be happy to tell you! First of all," he starts, "the exhibit was supposed to be held in Spain, but out of my love for the Santo Papa and my favorite saint, I did a last minute change and immediately rented a place here. And about the artists, I received a lot suggestions." He brings out his phone from his pocket and shows me pictures of different people. "This here is Copernicus Menard, I bought seven paintings from him. The one to his right is Rupert A. I don't know what the 'A' stands for, what I know is that he paints abstract portraits of the different Catholic saints."

Pippo showed me the different faces of the artists who contributed to this exhibit. And now we have arrived at the last artist with no picture on his or her profile.

"Who is this one?" I question.

"Ah, he is the last to contribute; Maestro Arturo. You will see the lone painting he contributed entitled, L.F. Weird name, no?" I nod in agreement with him. "But he gave such a beautiful painting..." Pippo finishes in awe.

"Will I get to see it?" Pippo seems to love the painting, it must be really something extravagant- something that I have to see for myself.

"Actually some paintings, including his, are being gathered by my staff for my soiree later. You'll get to see it by then. Now," he looks at his watch before continuing, "I have to go and get ready for the presentation later. I suggest you go back to the center and look at the sculptures made during the Renaissance period. Ciao! I'll see you from on-stage." He gives me a hug before walking away briskly.

I walk by myself back to the center, where most of the crowd is gathered. I see a waiter with a tray of wine glasses filled with red wine walk by me. I do not hesitate to grab a glass and take a sip of the sweet yet strong red wine.

I admire the sculptures in front of me and take my time examining each of them. When was the last time I ever had time for solely myself?

"Adrien?" Another unknown voice calls me again and I groan internally. As I turn, I am greeted with the presence of someone I haven't seen in a long time.

"Oh my God!" I exclaim in surprise, my annoyance waving away from me. "It's you!"

Chloé Bourgeois or rather Trocelli, in a gold off-shoulder gown, strides over to me and engulfs me in a hug. "I knew that it was you! It's been a long time since we've seen each other! How are you?"

"I'm good! I feel great actually; you know, I took a break from painting and sculpting, but being invited to one of Italy's greatest art exhibits makes me still feel important as an artist."

"And why should you not feel important even if you stop?" Chloé teases and gives me a look. "Who would ever forget my very best friend

I let out a light laugh as I remember the times when she would always claim the she was my only best friend. Chloé laughs along with me. "If Marinette heard you just now, she would go crazy." I tell her immediately amidst our laughter.

"When will she ever understand that I've moved on from you ever since we were 18! Imagine, it's been 10 years already. And come on Adrien, my Italian man is more hunk than you." She informs me, scoffing at my 'puny' figure.

Some people truly never change.

"Anyway, enough about my man. How is Marinette?" She asks. "Have you like seen her or even heard of her for these past years?" She takes a sip of water from her wine glass and I start to to wonder why she's not taking any alcohol for tonight. I know that she is the type to always have fun when there is the involvement of alcohol.

And about her questions...I don't know if I should tell her the truth or not.

"Marinette?" I start off, noticing the instability of my voice, "Ah...well-"

"Mama, mama!" A young boy around the age of four or five runs behind Chloé and wraps his arms around her legs.

"Fabien!" She bends down a little to talk to the little boy in hushed tones. The boy would just nod timidly as Chloé would talk to him. Then she straightens her posture and looks back at me. I flash her a smile before smiling down at the boy. "Adrien, this is Fabien, my cute son." She softly squeezes Fabien's cheek before nudging him towards me. Now it is my turn to bend down and look at him eye-to-eye.

"Ciao, Fabien. It's nice to finally meet you. How old are you now?"

"Quatro..." He answers quietly, holding up four fingers at me.

"Fabien, greet signore Adrien properly." Chloé instructs her son. Fabien nods at her then flashes a wide smile at me.

"Ciao, signore Adrien. My mama told me that you are a famous artist."

I raise an eyebrow of question at Chloé. "Hey, I have to make him a fan too." She then signals me to just go with it.

"And do you want to be an artist like me?" I ask the little boy who was slowly starting to pout.

"B-But I don't really know how to draw like you..."

I ruffle his hair and he starts to laugh as I continue, "If you keep on practicing, you will be better than me. I'm sure you will be." I playfully wink at him.

He grins full of glee, "Grazie, signore!"

"Fabien," Chloé calls out to her son, "papa is looking for you over there at that big statue. Go to him now, okay?"

"Sí, mama." I watch him run to a tall man with brown hair. The man picks him up and carries him with one arms. He waves at Chloé and I from where he stands and we wave back before he walks away, talking excitedly with Fabien in his arms.

"Fabien looks just like his dad..." Chloé sighs dreamily, still staring at the both of them. "And I can't wait to find out the gender of the other one."

I almost choke on my drink with what Chloé just said. "W-Wait!" I stutter, "You're pregnant?" I take this as the chance to look at her stomach. "It's not that clear yet." I say, referring to her baby bump.

"And I'm happy for that, honestly. I don't want to look bloated after finding out just last week. My husband still does not know, by the way. So consider yourself lucky." She takes a sip of water from her glass and she eyes me warily as she notices that I am just staring at her. "What do you want?" She snaps.

"No wonder why you're just drinking water."

"Well yeah, I'm not stupid, you dumbass." She retorts then rolls her eyes at me. "Damn it! These hormones are starting to take its toil on me. Don't look at me, I'm hating your face right now."

I hide my laugh by bringing the wine glass to my lips to take a sip of the sweet wine. "How come I'm enjoying the cranky Chloé? I guess it's because this is the Chloé I've been accustomed to in high school."

"Dios mio," she sighs. "High school's a bitch." She utters in disgust. "And enough about me, please! Can't we like discuss on serious matters?"

"Like what?" I ask then bring the wine glass to my lips again.

"Like your lovelife." She answers nonchalantly and this time I really choke on my drink. I turn away from her to cough and try to gain my normal voice back. "Oh come on, Adrien. I'm serious here." She continues, not even bothering to help me recover. That's Chloé for you.

"Do you even have a girlfriend? Your answer should either be a yes or a no."

"Well," I nervously rub the nape of my neck. "there is this person-"

"And are you planning to settle down with her?" She interrupts with another question.

"S-Settle down?" I stutter, "I wouldn't lie that I've been thinking of marrying her again..."

"Again?" She utters in disbelief. "Wait. Are...are you talking about Marinette?" She stammers, completely bewildered with the thought. "This better be real because I would be so happy for you."

I hesitate for a while before telling her that it's the truth. "I wouldn't say that I've changed my person of interest though; I mean, it's still the same person..."

"You better sit at our table and tell me everything!" She exclaims before dragging me with her to one of the tables located at the front of the stage.

She lets me sit at her left whilst Fabien sits to her right, and her husband is seated to the right of Fabien. "Your husband wouldn't mind if I am sitting beside you?" I ask unsurely.

"He would if you were as handsome as him. But clearly you're not, so you should not worry about him." She rests her elbows on the table since there were still no food on it yet. "Tell me everything like starting from the very beginning."

"The support is strong with this one." I mumble, making a reference to a recent movie Marinette and I watched together.

"Shouldn't you be happy that I'm supporting your relationship? Come on, I've been waiting for you guys to get back together."

"And how could you even tell that we would get back together?"

"Who files for a divorce without even giving a specific reason?" She retorts. Blown by the impact of her words, I turn away.

She's right. Until now, Marinette has never given me a specific explanation as to why she filed for a divorce. And being the stupid me, I assumed that she just started to hate me.

If it was really her wish to leave me that time, then out of my love for her I allowed her to let me go...

Just as she was about to continue, Pippo walks to the centerstage and the crowd's noise dies down into quiet murmurs. He brings the microphone near his mouth as the headlights start to dim, only letting the spotlights illuminate the stage.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!" He greets into the microphone, his voice radiates through the whole hall. "Welcome to the very first Art of a Maestro Exhibit. Wherein we feature different works of new artists and hold auctions for other to purchase yet admire their paintings. All proceeds from this showcase will go back to their artists for their adequate hours, needed materials, and exposure needed to become true maestros."

The audience give Pippo a round of applause and he beams a smile at all of us. "And to begin," he starts once the applause has somewhat died down. "I shall present the works of Maestro Rupert A."

A group of men carry different abstract paintings of Catholic saints and the sound of camera clicks surround the hall. The photographers were not allowed to use flashes since it may damage the artworks.

And that was how the whole program ran. Every painting was discussed by Pippo- what type of medium was used, the inspiration behind it and other important details.

Some artworks were auctioned on the spot and the people part of the audience bought the paintings in high prices, something that is very rare for newly-acclaimed artists.

Chloé did not continue with our topic before the program started and I'm thankful for that. She was busy helping Fabien eat his food and there would be times when she and her husband would talk (and sometimes steal kisses from each other. Eh, I shouldn't be one to judge).

"So Adrien," Chloé leans close, she must have noticed that I'm too engrossed with the paintings onstage. "do you have any plans on buying some of those there?"

I would not deny that I am completely impressed with the showcase. The portrait of Saint Thomas Aquinas painted by Maestro Rupert A. has caught my eye ever since it was revealed onstage. But even if I don't owe a lot to the IRS anymore, my finances are still on the stage of recovering. I can't spend extravagantly for now- meaning that I can't even purchase the cheapest painting I could find here.

"I'm in love with those paintings." I tell her. "But I'm making sure that I keep my temperance. I can't lose hard-earned money in just one auction. Maybe when I set my finances straight, I'll be back in the game in no time."

"Suit yourself." She utters. "Now you're making me not want to spend."

"Chloé?" I gasp in fake awe, "Not wanting to spend? You imposter, what have you done to the Chloé I know?"

"Shut up, you weirdo." She nudges me with her elbow and gulps down her water. "Is it me or is it really getting hot in here?" She complains, fanning herself.

"I think it's because of the baby and your hormones." I reply.

"Ugh, tell me about it." She decides to look onstage and suddenly she points at it, beaming a smile. "Oh, look! It's the last painting for the night!"

I turn my direction towards the stage and a group of men carry one painting, hidden behind a huge piece of velvet. From the looks of it, the painting seems to be four feet tall and two and a half feet wide- one of the large paintings of the night.

I hear Pippo thank the men for their hard work once they set the painting on a frame for it to be clearly seem by everyone. He then takes centerstage once again to introduce the painting to his audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are nearing the end of tonight's showcase." He starts. "And before we move on to our last painting for the tonight, I would like to thank each and every one of you for coming tonight; I would also like to send my special thanks to those highest bidders out there who have helped our new artists with their work and lifestyle. Grazie! Grazie!"

The people applaud, there were also some cheers in Italian heard from around the hall. Some even raised their glasses, giving a toast to Pippo or rather, Signore Francesco Spalanzzani. I too raise a glass at Pippo and he catches my gesture. He sends me wink before looking back at the crowd.

"Our final painting for the tonight, the lone painting of Maestro Arturo. In my perspective, a beautiful and splendid painting. Who could even tell that such a masterpiece was created by someone new in the industry?" He takes a deep breath, "I present to you, La Familia a painting by the one and only, Maestro Arturo!" He exclaims as the cloth is thrown away from the painting and my excitement vanishes in less than a second. Upon seeing the painting, the wine glass that was once held by my hand slips and lands on the ground, shattering into pieces.

My ears ring with the applause and amazed cheers of the people around me. But I don't feel anything at all. I feel numb with shock.

No...it can't be it.

My eyes never leave the painting in front of me as I take in all its details.

It's painted in a form of abstract. But how come I can recognize three people in it? A man with blond hair standing beside a woman with blue hair and in the middle...

They are carrying a baby.

Our baby.

"I know..." I murmur, trying to find my words. My heart can't calm down as of this moment. On the bottom right corner of the painting, I find the initials M and A. "I-I know..."

"Adrien..." I feel Chloé shake my shoulder, "Adrien, are you okay?"

I'm not okay.

I'm not okay at all. I...I know that painting...

Because it's my painting.

I feel my eyes well up with tears and then I turn to Chloé. She peers at me with a worried look on her face. "Adrien, what's wrong?"

"I...I have to bid for that painting." I merely tell her, my voice shaking as I speak.

I am not letting that painting be touched by anyone other than me or Marinette.

"But you said-"

"I know what I said!" I exclaim, interrupting her. "But this painting is different...a-and I have to get it back."

"Get it back? What do you mea-"

"I would like to buy the painting!" I ignore Chloé's questions as I stand from my chair and raise my hand. I notice then that other people are standing too, raising their hands. They too want to buy the painting.

A rush of adrenaline fills me and I have this urge to not lose to these people even if it meant risking my finances.

"And let the auction begin!" Pippo announces into the microphone.

"Adrien, sit down and handle this properly!" Chloé hisses, trying to pull me back onto the seat. But I keep my stance on the ground.

"Ten thousand euros!" I hear one person to my right, exclaim.

"Twenty!" We all hear to our left.

"Thirty-five!" I shout and everyone now has their eyes on me. I am not going to lose!

"Adrien," Chloé hisses again from beside me, "I thought that your finances were tight!"

"They are tight!" I utter, letting out a soft sob. Chloé must have noticed it since I could see her eyes soften from that intense glare. "In short, I don't have enough money to do things like this!" Unknowingly, a tear slips from my eye and I let it drop from my face.

"Then why that sudden attitude?"

"Because that's my painting." I tell her whilst trying to hold more of my tears as my voice cracks, and she starts to look confused. "Someone sold my painting to this exhibit and you know what's the worst part about it?"

Chloé just stays quiet, waiting for an answer.

"I know who did it..." I whisper, feeling such pain in my heart as I realize that this may be my last chance to ever see that painting again. "I need to get it back. I can't lose it like this."

I hear someone shout out the number forty and immediately I raise my hand and shout, "Forty-five!"

"Fifty!" The rest of the audience gasps with such a high value for a painting created by a rookie artist. They would never know that that painting is mine.

"Adrien, that is around sixty thousand U.S. dollars." I hear Chloé from beside me. "As much as I want to help you not lose that painting, I believe that you shouldn't be bidding too much on-"

"Fifty-two thousand and five hundred euros!" I announce, ignoring Chloé's warnings.

The crowd is now quiet as their attention is now on me, the stupid person who has bid more than sixty-two thousand U.S. dollars on a painting made by a nobody in their eyes. But through my eyes...

I see the love for my wife and son in that painting.

"Fifty-two and a half going once! Going twice!" He looks around the audience and since no one bids a higher number, he looks at me and exclaims, "Sold to Signore Adrien Agreste." The audience applauds as I collect my things and prepare myself to head out.

I can't stay here any longer. I have to get back to France. I have to see if the painting I bought was really mine or if I'm just fooling myself.

"I have to go." I utter in a rush.

"Where are you going? You have to sign some details about your ownershi-"

"Please do everything for me, Chloé." I cut her off, pleading. "I...I have to fix something back in France. I-I can't stay here any longer. I'm suffocating here."

"I'll try..." She says instead of retaliating. "Adrien, just answer me. Are you okay?"

I shake my head as I'm on the verge of crying again, "I'm not at all."

----------------

I rapidly knock on her door. I don't know what I'm exactly feeling right now. Should I be mad with what just happened in the exhibit or...or worried? My heart keeps pounding in my chest as it takes time for her to open the door to her apartment. I have never been more thankful enough when the people downstairs allowed me to visit her apartment at like three in the morning.

"Marinette, please open the door. I mutter, knocking against the hollow wood. Finally, the door opens and I am greeted with the sight of a groggy and dazed Marinette with unruly hair. Seeing her even with such a messy look makes me want to forget why I was here in the first place. But I can't do that. I...I'm here for a reason, and it is to see if what I saw was really true.

If...If what I really fought for was the painting.

"A-Adrien?" She stutters, clearly shocked with my presence. "What are you doing here?"

"I...I have to know." I merely answer before storming inside. I feel my head reeling as I look around her apartment, anxious that I might find the answer to my never-ending doubt.

And then...I see it.

The sight I see is something that keeps me frozen in my tracks. I am now standing in front of a now empty wall right across her bed. The only thing adorning the wall would be a metal hook which used to hold something heavy- something wide...like a frame of a painting.

Weeks ago, she told me that she hung it on a free wall across her bed. Then how come...how come it's not there anymore?

My heart drops as what I see is something not coming from a dream or my imagination; I'm seeing another chance of us being happy together tearing apart.

My hand flies to my mouth as I try to hide a sob coming from my mouth. I squeeze my eyes shut as I feel my tears threatening to fall. "Don't tell me it's true, Mari..." I whisper, still staring at that barren wall.

"Adrien," I hear her unsteady voice from behind me. She now knows why I'm here in the first place. "I...I can explain-"

"Explain what?" I burst out, interrupting her in the process. Then I bitterly point a finger at the empty wall and turn to look at her. "That painting was my heart. You sold my heart to someone you don't even know and it was shared with other people in that exhibit! And that painting was only meant for you! H-How? W-Why..." My voice fades away as I let out another sob and another one follows. In no time, my cries are heard and my heart feels heavy with the sudden feeling of hurt. I glance at Marinette to see her also crying as she continuously wipes away her tears.

"A-Adrien," she starts, her voice shaky from crying. "Just listen to me. The m-money I got-"

"Will be used for what?" I interrupt in a sneer. I run a hand down my face and pace about a small area in the room. "To purchase new things?"

"N-No, Adrien please-"

"Will you use it to pay your bills?" I selfishly snap at her.

"You...you have to listen-"

"Then what will you use the money for?!"

"I was going to give it you!" She suddenly shouts out loud, stopping me in my tracks and giving me a reason to look at her. She leaves me in a state of shock as I can't sputter out any word. Instead of retorting, I simply ask an exasperated, "why?".

She just stands there, frozen; with tears continuously falling on her face. And she states her answer in such a vulnerable voice, "I...I wanted to help pay the debt you owe the IRS."

"H-How did you know?" I ask in shock, "You were not supposed to know about any of that." I murmur, my thoughts running and reviewing where I've gone wrong or slipped up into accidentally letting her know about the problem. All these years of hiding it from her and in just a short span of time in getting back together, all my efforts are thrown to waste. I promised her that I wouldn't let her worry about any financial matters, and now she has widened the damage of that broken promise. "You were not supposed to meddle with my business! This is a matter that I should handle on my own!"

With everything coming out overwhelming, I could not hold in my furiousness and anger towards everything any longer. It's falling apart. We're falling apart. I'm falling apart.

"What you did will not bring any help to me at all!"

"But you need it to keep the school!" She shouts back amidst her tears.

"I bought the painting back!" I exclaim. She gasps with the sudden news. "I cannot imagine it being held by other people or being sold off at another auction, because that painting was never meant to be sold in the first place!" I shout with all the strength I could muster. Then I let the feeling of weakness overcome me.

"The school's gone now, Marinette." I whisper, feeling dejected. I feel the tears starting to well up in my eyes again. "I gave up on keeping the school, Marinette. I gave up on a lot of things already...and I'm starting to give up on us." I confess, stating the last sentence with such defeat. I look away from her and bury my head in my hands.

We're not working out at all. All these miscommunications and misunderstandings are telling me that maybe...we were never meant to even be together at all.

"Maybe I've been loving the wrong person this whole time." I whisper to myself, brokenheartedly. I cannot hold in my emotions any longer. I...I can't continue life clueless- without even knowing why we fell apart.

"Is this why you wanted that divorce so bad?" I question her with a sneer, now looking up and just glaring at her. "You...you act out of impulse and once you don't like it or are sick of it, you find an easy way to throw it away. And it's just the same way you threw away our marriage!"

"That's not true!" Marinette cries out loud, her cheeks stained with fresh tears. "N-None of that is true!"

"Then what is true? What kind of lie was I living in for four years?!" I retaliate, testing to know if she'll give me the answer I need. "Tell me, what do you hate in me that made you decide to leave me? What do you hate in me?!" I desperately shout at her.

"I don't hate you! I hate that I couldn't save our other child!" Marinette shouts back, slowly burying her head in her hands as she sobs hard out loud.

I face the ceiling as I angrily wipe away my tears. "Marinette, I told you before and I will tell you again that our baby boy should never be the reason for our divor-"

"I'm not talking about Tommy." She suddenly interrupts, looking at me as she utters the words. Her legs give in and she collapses on the floor, sobbing hard into her hand. "I-I'm sorry, Adrien. I could not save her." I could hear the sincerity of her words but I could not comprehend what she is trying to explain.

Having enough of all this nonsense, I take long strides to Marinette and kneel in front of her to grab her arm with one hand. "Stop trying to sugarcoat your excuses. Just tell me how much you hate me and then we can end all of this!"

"We had a daughter!" Marinette shouts out loud, catching me off-guard. "We had a daughter..." She says again with no strength left in her. Her words are slowly imprinted in my mind and the words I want to say get caught up in my throat.

No...no it can't be.

"I-I suffered a miscarriage seven months after Tommy's death..." Marinette continues. She does not dare to look at me as she speaks. "I'm sorry," she then apologizes for the nth time, her voice hoarse. "I couldn't save he-"

"No..." Finding my voice again, I mumble exasperatedly and in disbelief. I immediately let go of her arm as I shake my head in denial. "No." I say once again now feeling completely devastated. Marinette then looks up at me as I stare at her in utter disbelief.

For once in my life, I want her to be lying.

I would rather choose to forgive you if this was a prank or a joke. Just smile and tell me that you're messing with me, please. Please...

But just with that look she is showing me as of this moment, this is clearly not a lie. I feel the burden of carrying the weight of the world as I am drowning myself at the same time with the feeling of grief, loss and betrayal.

"You were not pregnant after Tommy's death...I-I would have known that you were pregnant." I shakily stand and I feel the heaving of my chest as I breathe heavily. The atmosphere is different, it's suffocating me and locking me in its intimidating presence.

"I...I hid my pregnancy from you." She cries. Marinette must have noticed that I was starting to stumble farther away from her since she holds up her arm, reaching and pleading for me to stay near her. "Adrien, don't go..."

"Why?" I ask quietly. "You could have told me." I start, "You could have called me, begged me to come home. Instead...you chose to stay quiet." I finish, bitterly. "You could have directly told me; there is no crime with telling me!"

"And you don't know how much I was so excited to come home to you after Italy." I continue amidst her tears and mine. "Heck, I was even planning to p-propose to you." My voice cracks due to my sobs. "I was ready to tell you about the school, my work- my plans when we start to live together again. I was preparing myself for everything...except this. This was not what I expected, Marinette...this is beyond what I expected." My voice becomes unstable as well as my emotions and all my feelings right now. "This is beyond every heartbreak you have brought upon me..." I finish in barely above a whisper.

No doubt, my heart has shattered into a million different pieces.

Is this what it feels like to not be dying at peace? Such bitter thoughts run in my head.

Still in a state of shock and devastation, I don't even realize that I'm leaning on the empty wall across from Marinette. My legs too give in and I fall to the floor bawling out of utter sadness or rather, depression. My shoulders vigorously shake as I cry out loud into my hands.

And I thought the death of Tommy would be the saddest thing that could ever happen to me.

Now nothing can compare to how crushed I am to only find out of my daughter's death four years after.

"I was scared, Adrien..." I hear Marinette's crisp yet quiet voice from the other side of the room. I choose to not look up at her as I still cry over the loss of another family member. My greatest fear is all coming together- I'm slowly becoming alone.

"I was scared that you would leave me if ever you found out that I couldn't take care of even another baby...I still loved you, Adrien. I truly did. I asked for that divorce because I would be a wreck if it were the other way around. I believed that it would have been better if I ended it early because I felt that once you would know about our other loss, you would be leaving me in no time..."

I uncover my face and look at her with eyes full of sadness and longing. "Leave you..." I sigh in despair. "L-Leave you. I can't believe I'm going to say this in such a situation...but I love you, Marinette." I say the three important words with such desperation. "I may not show it too much through actions or words but I love you...so much that it's painful to bear. Why do I still carry such an emotion for you? Because I simply want to..."

She cries harder into her hand as I finish. I know that my words have left an impact on her. "Y-You still have the heart to utter such words." She shakily speaks at me from across the room.

"But..." I sigh, "the sight of you in front of me now is making me weak...is gradually killing me. You have been doubting my love for you this whole time. To hear that the only woman I love has been lying to me for the past four years is a bullet straight to my heart...and I'm allowing it to kill me." With the support from the wall and the bits of strength left in me, I slowly and shakily stand on my two feet. I wipe my tears away even if I know that the action is completely useless since my tears have never stopped falling ever since I arrived in this apartment. I inhale sharply and start to walk to her door.

"I have to leave..." I softly utter, feeling drained and depressed with the events that just occurred in a short period of time.

"Adrien, please!" Marinette pleads from behind me. I choose not to look back as my hand hovers over the door knob. I immediately cover my mouth with my free hand as I almost let out a sob.

"Go back to sleep, Marinette." I turn her door knob and exit her apartment, closing the door behind me.

I carefully lean on her door and start to silently cry as I hear Marinette's grieving and woeful sobs fill the apartment. I push myself away and choke down a sob as I head downstairs to leave the building, not even bothering to look back.

Marinette has been doubting my love for her all these years, and I've been too blind to even notice a thing.