Chapter 13: Distraction in Class

Lila didn't hesitate.

Option 1.

The delicate watch on Lila's wrist pulsed once, a small holographic interface, glowing faintly.

> Option 1 selected.

The glow faded instantly, disappearing as if it had never been there. But Lila felt a subtle nudge, a perfectly timed idea slipping into her mind — natural, easy, and compelling. She smiled softly and turned toward Adrien again, leaning just a little closer.

"I was thinking..." she began, her tone casual yet carefully measured, "would after school at the Trocadéro work for you? I heard it's quiet there around that time and that the view is to die for."

Adrien blinked, pleasantly surprised by the suggestion. "The Trocadéro? That sounds really nice, actually. I haven't been there in a while."

Lila tilted her head with a gentle smile. "Then it's a plan? Say, right after school?"

"Yeah," Adrien said, his smile widening. "Right after school works. I'll meet you there."

A soft warmth filled Lila's chest — satisfaction with a hidden layer of gratitude. "Perfect," she whispered, as though it meant more to her than she could say. "Thank you, Adrien."

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The interaction between Lila and Adrien was mesmerizing to the other students. Adrien's focus on Lila was intense, and his attentive responses made it clear that he was completely engaged with her. The way Lila leaned in and the way Adrien looked at her with such earnestness seemed to draw everyone's gaze.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, now seated at the back of the classroom after moving to accommodate Nino, was utterly adrift. Her notebook lay open, her pen idle, the words on the board blurring as her eyes kept sliding toward the front row. Every soft laugh from Adrien, every gentle flicker of Lila's lashes was a dagger to her concentration. It felt like watching someone else live the moment she'd spent years wishing for — only this version of it wasn't hers. It was Lila's.

She tried to take notes. Tried to hear Miss Bustier's lecture. But the lesson didn't stick. Her mind felt thick, sluggish, like she was underwater. The words coming from the front of the classroom were muffled, distant, like a radio playing in another room.

Miss Bustier's voice cut through the haze suddenly. "Marinette?" Her tone was patient but unmistakably calling for attention. "Could you please answer the question I just asked?"

Marinette blinked. For a second, she couldn't even place where she was. She blinked again, slowly turning her eyes toward the front of the room, where every face was now looking at her.

"I..." she faltered, looking helplessly down at her blank notebook. What question? What subject were they even on?

Miss Bustier waited kindly. "It's alright. I asked which literary device is used in the passage we read for homework."

Marinette's mouth opened, but nothing came out. Her brain scrambled, flipping through fragments of memory — pages she hadn't truly read, words she hadn't fully processed.

Her gaze slipped back toward Adrien and Lila, as if drawn by gravity. Adrien's soft expression, the way he leaned in when Lila spoke — it made her chest ache. Her breath caught.

"I—I don't know," she finally admitted, her voice as small as a whisper. "I'm sorry."

A few students exchanged looks. A murmur passed through the room like a ripple across still water. Miss Bustier offered a sympathetic smile, though her brow furrowed in concern. "That's okay, Marinette. Let's go over it together."

But Marinette could hardly hear the explanation. The sound of her teacher's voice faded again, overtaken by the pounding of her own heartbeat and the quiet sounds of Adrien's and Lila's continued conversation. Lila's hand moved ever so slightly, brushing Adrien's desk — subtle, effortless, and somehow incredibly intimate.

Marinette's fingers gripped her pen tighter. Her chest felt tight, her mind foggy. The jealousy burned beneath the surface, but even stronger was the confusion — why did it hurt so much? Why did it feel like she was the only one left behind?

Lila must have felt her gaze, because she glanced back. For just a moment, their eyes locked. Lila didn't smirk or sneer — she simply looked at her with that same unreadable expression, soft and still, and offered the faintest, angelic smile. As if to say, I see you.

Adrien noticed the shift and followed Lila's gaze. When he saw Marinette, his expression tightened with concern. But he didn't speak to her — not here. He turned back to Lila, refocusing. "If there's anything you're unsure about later, I'd be happy to explain," he said gently.

Lila's lashes lowered, her voice barely above a whisper. "That means a lot, Adrien. Thank you."

Adrien nodded. His whole presence radiated calm — the kind Marinette used to rely on. Now, it belonged to someone else.

As the lesson dragged on, Marinette found herself slipping further. She couldn't keep her focus. The words Miss Bustier spoke became noise. Her notes were a mess of half-written sentences and scribbled doodles, her head spinning from fatigue and emotional overload.

Her body slowly slumped forward, until her forehead gently pressed against the cool surface of her desk. Just for a moment, she told herself. Just to breathe.

Sleep pulled at her like a tide.

Miss Bustier noticed and approached quietly, her concern deepening. "Marinette?" she said, touching her shoulder.

Marinette startled awake with a soft gasp, blinking up at her teacher. The classroom was spinning slightly. Her cheeks burned.

"You need to stay alert, alright?" Miss Bustier said kindly, though there was a tired edge to her voice now. "Let's try to get through the rest of the lesson together."

Marinette nodded, barely able to meet her eyes. She sat up straighter, but inside, she felt small. Powerless. Forgotten.

At the front of the room, Lila turned back toward Adrien with a satisfied smile, her voice light and quiet — a world away from the storm unraveling at the back of the classroom.