A Winter's Tale

New Adrien

The plane hummed with a mechanical drone that usually lulled Adrien to sleep, but tonight, rest was impossible. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her—Marinette's expression when she'd said *take care*. Those three syllables had landed like a stone in still water, sending ripples of dread through his chest.

It wasn't just what she'd said. It was what she *hadn't* said. The way her eyes had gone hollow, like someone had snuffed out the light inside her. The way she'd closed the door—not with anger, not with tears, but with a terrifying finality that made his blood run cold.

Adrien shifted in the plush leather seat, his fingers drumming an anxious rhythm against the armrest. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones, in the way his skin prickled with premonition. It was the same instinct that warned him when akumas were near, only this felt more personal. More devastating.

*What if she saw?*The thought struck him like lightning. What if Marinette had been there, hidden in the crowd, and witnessed Kagami's ambush? The idea made his stomach twist. He could picture it too clearly—her blue eyes widening, her lower lip trembling, the way she would bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying until she was alone.

He would lose her. The realization hit him with physical force, stealing his breath. He would lose the only person who had ever seen *him*—not the model, not the perfect son, not as the famous model, but Adrien. The awkward boy who loved bad puns and feared thunderstorms. The boy who was desperately, hopelessly, irretrievably in love with a blue-haired designer who made his heart stutter every time she smiled.

"Adrien," a voice purred beside him, honey-sweet and cloying.

He didn't open his eyes. He couldn't look at Kagami without wanting to throttle her, and he was barely holding onto his control as it was.

"Adrien, I'm speaking to you," she tried again, irritation sharpening her tone.

*Control, Agreste. Control.*

But when he finally turned his head and met her gaze, something in his expression must have warned her. She drew back slightly, her confidence flickering.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice dangerously soft."We're in the plane," she whispered, glancing around. "We are not alone—"

"I don't give a damn who hears." He leaned in close enough that he could smell her perfume—something expensive and foreign, nothing like Marinette's scent of vanilla and fresh bread and lavender soap. "Listen to me carefully, Kagami, because I'm only going to say this once."Her eyes widened. She had never seen him like this—had she? The boy who always smiled, who always obeyed, who always played the part. That boy was gone. In his place sat a man with murder in his eyes and a heart already promised elsewhere.

"I am sick of you," Adrien hissed, each word precise and cutting. "Sick of your texts that come at all hours. Sick of your 'accidental' appearances wherever I go. Sick of your manipulations—yes, I know you convinced my father to call me back. I know you orchestrated this whole reunion."

Kagami's mouth opened, closed. For the first time since he'd known her, she looked genuinely uncertain. "Adrien, I don't know what you—"

"Don't." The word cracked like a whip. "Don't lie to me. My father told me everything. How you suggested this 'reunion' for publicity. How you planned the airport arrival. How you *used* me."