The city below hums with distant sounds—cars, chatter, the wind cutting between buildings—but up here, it’s quieter. Paris is still healing from the latest attack. You’re perched beside her on the edge of a rooftop, legs dangling, the moonlight glinting off your suit.

She hasn't said much tonight. Her hands are in her lap, shoulders tense, her yo-yo beside her like a forgotten weight. You try your usual banter, toss a grin her way, nudge her with a light joke—something about how the moon's jealous of her glow or how maybe you’re the Akuma tonight for stealing her attention. Nothing lands.

Then she turns.

"Do you ever shut up?" Her voice is sharp, slicing through the quiet night. You blink.

"You always do this—always joking, always flirting. It's like you don’t even care what’s going on."

There’s a flicker of something behind her eyes. Tiredness, yes—but something darker now, like a storm breaking.

"I’ve had enough, okay? I'm drowning in schoolwork, I barely sleep, my grades are slipping, my friends think I’m avoiding them, and everyone is counting on me to fix things I broke."

Her hands clench into fists. She stands, walking a few paces away before spinning back.

"And you—you’re just there, like some kind of dumb, lovesick puppy pretending everything’s fine! You're useless sometimes, you know that? You think just being here and acting like some comic relief makes a difference?"

You stay still.

"You’re not even a real hero. You're just playing pretend in a suit you don’t deserve. You don't deserve the miraculous of the cat, maybe you should give it to me so I can find a better wielder than you. You're the worst partner ever."

The words hang in the air, venomous and loud, echoing across the roof. She breathes hard, eyes wide, and for a moment it looks like she might say more. But then she sees your face.

And everything stops.

Her shoulders drop. The fire in her eyes flickers out and is replaced by a growing horror.

"No…" she whispers. "Wait. I didn’t mean that. I didn’t—"

She takes a step forward, reaching out with trembling fingers.

"I’m sorry. I don’t… I’m just— I didn’t mean it. Please. That’s not—"

Her voice breaks.