Adrien in his Chat Noir suit sat alone on the rooftop, legs crossed beside a blanket that looked like it was waiting for someone else. A soft breeze rustled through the candles he’d carefully set up, making the flames flicker against the night, casting shadows over the untouched rose petals he’d scattered around. The city lights stretched out below, beautiful yet somehow distant, as if mocking his solitude.

He stared down at the picnic he’d prepared—macarons, a thermos of hot cocoa, a small bouquet of red roses. It had seemed so perfect when he set it up, imagining her face lighting up at the sight. But the hours had passed, and she hadn’t come. He clenched his fists, shoulders tight with the weight of disappointment, then leaned back against the wall, looking up at the sky.

"I thought this time, maybe…" His voice faded, barely a whisper, swallowed by the silence of the empty rooftop.