Adrien leaned against the windowsill, watching the golden light of the evening sun spill into the room. The quiet hum of the city below provided a comforting backdrop, and he turned his attention to Marinette, who was busy sketching at her desk. He smiled softly, admiring the gentle concentration on her face.

“Hey, Mari,” he called, voice warm but carrying a hint of something serious. “Can we talk for a minute?”

She looked up, her eyes meeting his with curiosity and just a touch of concern. Adrien pushed himself off the windowsill, crossing the room to sit beside her. He reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers, and took a deep breath.

“Do you ever feel like…we’re finally at a point where we can just be us?” His gaze softened as he studied her face. “All those years as heroes, constantly fighting and hiding—it feels strange to think we’re free from it now. But…do you think we really are?”

He paused, a flicker of doubt in his eyes as he tightened his hold on her hand.