Loss

13

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Marinette's P.O.V

I woke up in my bed and looked around my room in confusion.

Wasn't I just fighting an akuma? Was it all just some weird dream? Yet, the battle felt so...real like I was actually there fighting an akuma and protecting Paris once again. My hands removed the covers and as if on command, I climb down to the wooden floor.

"Tikki?" I called, but there was no reply.

Something just didn't settle in the right way, and I couldn't help but look around a little closer. Wait a minute...when did I put Adrien's magazine clippings and pictures back up? My train of thought went to an immediate halt when a familiar smell filled the air. Breakfast.

Papa never makes breakfast unless it's a special occasion. He would be in the bakery getting ready to open, so then...who was cooking?

Who was making breakfast? Could it be...but it couldn't be...no...she-she can't be...it's just not possible that she is downstairs making-

"Sweetie, you're going to be late for school," mama's voice called, sweetly from downstairs. I froze the instant I heard her voice. The voice of reason. The voice I adored and looked up to ever since I was small. The voice that would comfort me when down. The voice that could always make me smile and laugh. The voice that made me happy and so dearly missed.

That was her voice.

I slowly made my way over to the trap door shakily. I stood in front of the door, hand slowly reaching down to clutch the bar. I felt myself tremble and hoping that this wasn't some kind of a trick. Hoping that everything was not a dream and this is reality. The reality I so desperately wanted to be true.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled the trap door open and made it halfway down the stairs, hugging myself. I stared over at the kitchen with wide eyes and stomach churning in disbelief.

There she was in the kitchen making breakfast without a care in the world and the warmest, brightest smile that sun would be jealous of. Mama's attention was taken away from the food to meet my eyes making me stiffen.

"Come and eat, honey, before your food gets cold," mama spoke softly. I made it down the rest of the stairs not taking my eyes off of my mother as if she would disappear into thin air. I sat on the bar stool, probably with wide orbs that have not blinked yet and a slightly gaping mouth. She placed a plate of eggs, bacon and toast in front of me along with a glass of orange juice.

"Why aren't you dressed yet? School will be starting in a few minutes. I'm surprised you haven't run downstairs, taken a croissant, and went to school," she teased. I stayed quiet the whole time but felt tears building up and breathing start to go unsteady. My hands clenched my arms, nails digging into my skin.

Mama looked at me, probably wondering why I wasn't joining in the conversation. Her facial expression morphed from wonder to worry once seeing the state I was in.

"Dear, are you okay?" mama asked, walking over to comfort me.

"I..." my words trailed off. I looked down at my lap and sniffled while using the bottom of my palm to rub my eyes dry from tears. My emotions were all over the place and couldn't get one single thought straight through my head.