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He knew from the moment that he held her in his arms as she slept peacefully, that his daughter was going to be a special person… If he had known then what he would know now, Tom would have never let his precious Marinette go. No, he would have given her the biggest hug he could, knowing that she was safe in his arms.
None of this felt real, none of it shouldn’t be real.
Marinette should still be upstairs, working on her latest commission for Jagged Stone that she had been so excited to work on. She should be here with him and Sabine, enjoying dinner with each other's company. She should be in the living room, playing games with him like they would do every Saturday night.
Marinette was never Ladybug. Marinette was Marinette; his kind, sweet, creative, beautiful little girl. His little girl shouldn’t have been fighting for her life, she didn’t need the responsibility of Paris on her shoulders. No, she didn’t have that kind of responsibility, the responsibility of an adult, because that was Ladybug out there dealing with the akumas. Not his Marinette.
None of this felt real, none of it shouldn’t be real. But it was.
Out of his front door was a shaken Chat Noir, on the brink of tears, choking on his own words.
“I’m sorry, M. Dupain.” He choked out. “I am so sorry that I couldn’t do anything to save her.”
Chat’s words were like fingernails on a chalkboard to his ears. Tom’s world became cold all around him, because reality was that Marinette was Ladybug.