The moment she and Chat Noir parted ways, Ladybug hauled ass to Alya's apartment.
She landed hard on the balcony, barely catching her breath before pounding on the sliding glass door that led to Alya's office. The curtains were drawn, blocking the view inside, but Ladybug didn't care. She needed Alya. Now.
"Come on, come on," she muttered, shifting the baby carrier on her back as Émi dozed. "Alya, please."
Seconds ticked by. No answer.
Just as she was about to pull out her phone—or hell, just go home and have a complete meltdown—the curtains finally pulled back.
Alya appeared in her pajamas and bonnet, her glasses slightly askew. She squinted at Ladybug through the glass, exhaustion radiating from her gaze. After what felt like an eternity of silent staring, she exhaled and finally slid the door open.
"Girl." Alya's voice was rough with sleep. "What are you doing?"
Ladybug surged forward and gripped Alya's shoulders. "I need to talk to you."
Alya yawned, momentarily removing her glasses to rub at her eyes. Finally, after releasing another long, weary sigh, she stepped aside. "Fine. Get in here before you wake everyone."
As soon as Ladybug entered Alya's office, she collapsed to her knees with all the grace of a pile of sand and whimpered into the carpet like a wounded animal. Émi stirred against her back, though she didn't wake.
Alya took an instinctive step back, eyes wide. "Marinette! Whoa. Are you okay?"
Ladybug made a choked sound.
"Marinette?"
"She—she called him—" Ladybug wheezed, —Dada."
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