Chapter 2: First Meeting
1600 Words
Marinette woke up before the sun.
Not because she wanted to.
Because if breakfast wasn’t ready by six, her adoptive mother would start screaming before anyone even sat at the table.
The house was still dark when she slipped out of bed quietly.
Cold wooden floors pressed against her bare feet as she moved carefully through the hallway.
Every step felt rehearsed.
Controlled.
Years of learning how to exist without making noise.
She tied her hair into a loose ponytail before entering the kitchen.
The sink was already full.
Of course it was.
Dirty dishes stacked high from last night because apparently nobody in the house besides her possessed functioning hands.
Marinette exhaled slowly and turned on the faucet.
The water was freezing.
Perfect.
By the time the rice finished cooking and eggs sizzled in the pan, the house finally started waking up.
Heavy footsteps echoed upstairs.
Doors opening.
Voices.
Marinette placed plates onto the table just as her adoptive mother entered the kitchen.
Sabine Dupain looked immaculate despite the early hour.
Hair done.
Makeup perfect.
Disapproval already written across her face.
Her gaze swept over the table critically.
“You burned the eggs.”
Marinette looked down.
They weren’t burned.
“Sorry.”
“You’re always sorry.”
Her mother grabbed a coffee cup with visible annoyance.
“I don’t understand how someone can be this useless after living in my house for so long.”
Marinette stayed quiet.
That was safer. Always safer.
Her adoptive father entered seconds later wearing a suit and scrolling through his phone.
He didn’t look at her.
Not once.
Marinette wasn’t sure which felt worse anymore.
The insults or the indifference.
At least hatred required effort.
Ignoring her completely made her feel invisible.
Her younger adoptive brothers stumbled downstairs next.
Ivan and Max.
Twenty-one and nineteen.
Both spoiled.
Both cruel in different ways.
The older one barely acknowledged her as he sat down.
The younger one stared too long.
Like always.
Marinette kept her eyes lowered as she poured juice into glasses.
“Why are you dressed like that?” her mother snapped suddenly.
Marinette looked down at her oversized sweater and jeans.
“I have classes.”
“You look poor.”
The irony almost made her laugh.
Almost.
“I’ll change after breakfast.”
“You should’ve changed before breakfast. Honestly, do I have to teach you everything?”
Marinette swallowed the response sitting painfully in her throat.
No matter what she did, it would never be enough.
Never clean enough.
Never pretty enough.
Never grateful enough.
Her adoptive mother sat elegantly at the table while criticizing everything within reach.
The food.
The house.
Marinette’s hair.
Her posture.
Her breathing probably.
Meanwhile her father stayed buried in his phone like none of it existed.
Like Marinette didn’t exist.
The younger brother suddenly smirked at her.
“You should wear tighter clothes more often.”
Marinette froze slightly.
His gaze slid over her body in a way that made her stomach twist.
Her mother didn’t notice.
Or didn’t care.
“Maybe then someone would finally date you,” he added casually.
The older brother snorted.
Marinette grabbed empty plates quickly.
“I should wash these.”
She escaped into the kitchen before anyone could continue.
Her hands trembled faintly as she gripped the edge of the sink.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
A shadow appeared behind her moments later.
Her entire body stiffened instantly.
The younger brother leaned against the counter lazily.
Too close.
Always too close.
“You’re avoiding me again.”
Marinette focused on the dishes.
“I’m busy.”
He stepped closer anyway.
“You know,” he murmured, “most girls would be happy for attention.”
Her grip tightened around the plate.
“I said I’m busy.”
His eyes darkened slightly.
Then he leaned near her ear.
“You still act scared every time I touch you.”
Marinette’s chest tightened violently.
A memory flashed through her mind too quickly.
A locked laundry room. A hand grabbing her wrist. Being sixteen and terrified.
She stepped back immediately.
“Move.”
Instead of listening, he smirked.
“That little incident happened years ago.”
Little incident.
Marinette felt sick.
“You should really learn to relax.”
Then footsteps echoed down the hallway.
He moved away instantly.
Like nothing happened.
Like he hadn’t cornered her in the kitchen before eight in the morning.
Her adoptive mother entered seconds later.
“What are you standing around for?” she snapped at Marinette. “You’ll miss your bus.”
Marinette grabbed her bag without another word.
No goodbye. No one noticed when she left.
—
Campus felt like oxygen.
Not freedom exactly.
But close enough to taste.
Marinette breathed easier the second she stepped through the university gates.
Students hurried across pathways with coffee cups and backpacks while autumn wind scattered leaves across the pavement.
Normal.
Everything here felt normal.
No screaming.
No watching her every move.
No walking on eggshells.
“Marinette!”
She turned just in time for Alya to crash into her dramatically.
“You look exhausted,” Alya announced immediately.
“Good morning to you too.”
Alya narrowed her eyes. “Did you sleep at all?”
Before Marinette could answer, another familiar voice joined them.
“You say that every morning.”
Luke walked toward them carrying three coffees.
Alya accepted hers instantly.
“Because every morning she looks one inconvenience away from committing arson.”
Marinette laughed quietly despite herself.
That was the thing about Alya and Luke.
They made breathing easier.
The three of them started walking toward the main building together.
Luke handed Marinette her coffee carefully.
“You’ve been studying too much again.”
Marinette stared down at the cup.
Or working too much.
Or cleaning too much.
Or surviving too much.
She forced a small smile.
“I’m fine.”
Alya gave her a look that clearly said liar.
“You’re still saving up?” Luke asked gently.
Marinette nodded.
Every extra dollar mattered.
Every late-night shift.
Every scholarship.
She counted everything obsessively now.
Because freedom had a price.
And she was trying desperately to afford it.
“I found a studio apartment online yesterday,” Marinette admitted quietly. “Tiny kitchen. Terrible bathroom. But it’s close to campus.”
Alya immediately perked up. “Wait seriously?”
“It’s still expensive.”
“How expensive?”
Her head fell. “$350…”
Luke winced.
“Yeah, okay. That’s criminal.”
She laughed softly.
“It’s still cheaper than losing my mind at home.”
Neither of them argued.
Because they knew.
Not everything.
But enough.
Alya suddenly snapped her fingers.
“Oh my God.”
Marinette blinked. “What?”
“There’s a tutoring position open.”
Marinette frowned slightly.
“I already tutor freshmen.”
“No, this one pays ridiculously well.”
That got her attention instantly.
“How well?”
Alya grinned.
“Rich-athlete-in-academic-danger well.”
Marinette stared at her.
“That’s not a number.”
“It’s enough money to cover half your apartment rent in like two months.”
Marinette nearly stopped walking.
“What?”
Luke nodded. “The athletic department posted it yesterday.”
“Apparently the student is failing badly,” Alya added. “So they’re desperate.”
Marinette’s brain started calculating immediately.
Rent.
Utilities.
Food.
Application fees.
Escape.
“How many sessions?” she asked.
Alya smirked knowingly.
“That answer means you’re interested.”
Marinette ignored that.
“How many?”
“Four evenings a week.”
Her chest tightened slightly.
That was a lot.
But the money…
God.
She needed the money.
Needed it badly enough to ignore the exhaustion already dragging at her bones every day.
“I’ll do it,” she said immediately.
Alya blinked. “Just like that?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t even know who the student is.”
Marinette shrugged.
She didn’t care.
As long as he paid.
“I’ve dealt with difficult people before.”
If anything, rich entitled students were easier.
At least they usually left eventually.
Unlike family.
—
By late afternoon, Marinette stood outside the tutoring office clutching the paperwork tightly.
Her pulse felt strangely uneven.
Not nerves exactly.
Just exhaustion.
The day had dragged endlessly between lectures, assignments, and trying not to think about going home later.
She pushed open the office door quietly.
The woman behind the desk smiled politely.
“Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”
“Yes.”
“You’re here for the athletic tutoring assignment?”
Marinette nodded.
The woman handed her a folder.
“Your student should already be inside.”
That was fast.
Marinette adjusted her bag on her shoulder before walking down the hallway.
Room 204.
She stopped outside the door briefly.
Then knocked once.
A deep voice answered instantly.
“Come in.”
Marinette pushed the door open—
—and froze.
Oh.
Oh no.
Adrien Agreste lounged lazily in the chair beside the desk like he owned the entire building.
Which, considering his last name, maybe he practically did.
Light blond hair slightly messy.
Expensive black hoodie.
Sharp jawline.
Arrogant expression.
Too attractive for his own good.
The famous hockey star looked up from his phone slowly.
Their eyes met.
Recognition flashed across her face immediately.
Everyone knew Adrien Agreste.
The parties.
The scandals.
The interviews.
The endless headlines.
Rich billionaire heir.
Campus nightmare.
Professional troublemaker.
Adrien stared at her for one long second before looking visibly unimpressed.
“You’re my tutor?”
Marinette tightened her grip on the folder.
And suddenly understood exactly why the pay was so high.
- Writer
