Chasing The Cat | Chat Noir x Reader / Adrien x Reader

Chapter 29: The Truth

The air in Alya's bedroom was thick with tension. Papers and notes were scattered across her desk, photos pinned to her wall in a chaotic mess that reflected my own mind. Adrien sat on the edge of the bed, brows furrowed in deep concentration as he flipped through the latest set of tips we had printed out. Nino stood near the window, arms crossed, his usual easy-going demeanor replaced by something more serious. And Alya... Alya was staring at a particular note, her fingers trembling slightly as she held it up to the light.

"This handwriting," she muttered under her breath, her eyes darting between the message and the pages of her old school planner. "I know this handwriting."

I stepped closer, my pulse quickening. "What do you mean?"

Alya didn't respond right away. She grabbed another notebook off her shelf, flipping through it frantically before stopping on a page filled with Marinette's neat, elegant scrawl. She pressed the stalker's note beside it, holding them side by side.

I leaned over her shoulder, and my stomach dropped.

It was identical.

The same delicate curves, the same way the letters slanted slightly to the right. The same small hearts drawn in the margins, something so uniquely Marinette that it was impossible to ignore.

"No," I whispered, stepping back as a wave of nausea washed over me. "This can't be right."

Adrien's gaze snapped up, concern etching deep lines into his expression. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice quiet but firm.

Alya nodded, biting her lip. "I... I can't believe I didn't see it sooner." She flipped through more pages, pulling out letters and notes Marinette had written over the years. "It's her, (Name). This is her handwriting."

I sank into the desk chair, my mind reeling. Marinette. Sweet, kind, scatterbrained Marinette—the one who'd been nothing but supportive and caring. The one who was always there. It didn't make sense. Why would she do this? Why stalk me? Why try to scare me away?

"Maybe—maybe we're missing something," Nino offered, though his voice lacked conviction. "It could just be a coincidence?"

"No." Alya shook her head, her voice resolute. "This... this isn't a coincidence. And it's not just the handwriting." She pulled up her phone, scrolling through old photos. "Remember that one note you found near your apartment, (Name)? The one with the smudge?" She enlarged the image on her screen. "Marinette has that same pink glitter pen. I've seen her use it all the time."

I rubbed my temples, the pieces clicking together too perfectly, too painfully. "Why would she do this?" I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.

Adrien hesitated before speaking. "Could she—could she have been trying to... protect you in some weird way?" His voice was soft, hopeful, but even he didn't sound convinced.

"By sending threatening messages? Stalking me?" I shook my head, frustration bubbling up inside me. "No, this isn't protection. This is something else."

Alya exhaled sharply, running a hand through her curls. "We need to confront her."

I stiffened. "Now?"

Adrien looked at me, his green eyes filled with worry. "You sure you're ready for that?"

I swallowed hard, clenching my fists. "I have to be."

Nino shifted uneasily. "Maybe we should all do it together? You know, strength in numbers."

I shook my head. "No. This is something I have to do on my own."

Alya opened her mouth to protest, but I cut her off with a firm look. "I need to hear it from her. I need to know why."

Adrien's jaw tensed, but he nodded. "Just... be careful, alright?"

I stood up, feeling the weight of the revelation settle onto my shoulders. I grabbed the note from Alya's desk, tucking it into my jacket pocket. "I'll text you when I'm done."

Alya placed a hand on my arm, her eyes searching mine. "You sure about this?"

"No," I admitted, forcing a shaky smile. "But I have to do it anyway."

Taking a deep breath, I turned and headed for the door, my heart pounding with every step.

Outside, the cold Parisian air hit me like a slap, but it barely registered. My mind was already racing ahead, playing out the conversation I was about to have.

With each step closer to Marinette's bakery, the fear grew stronger.

I wasn't just walking toward my friend's house.

I was walking toward the truth.

And I wasn't sure if I was ready for it.