Chapter Text
They’d been playing their symphony for a while, but Juleka feels like it’s only just beginning. She feels like she’s staring out at the crowd with the spotlight in her eyes. She feels like she’s taking the steps up to her podium, tapping the stand twice to get the symphony’s attention. She can hear someone cough inopportunely, just as the rest of the house goes silent enough to hear a pin drop.
They’re still missing an instrument, though. Their flautist. Without her, the timbre of the symphony won’t be just right.
It’s nerve-wracking.
Juleka plays and replays a certain sound file in her phone over and over again, in the coming days. She’s not sure what, exactly, to do with it. She knows she needs it. She knows it’s key. She knows it’s song. But she’s not sure exactly how to play it. Luka was always better with music than her.
But Luka’s song is for Marinette, and he never did get the chance to meet her best friend, and Juleka still doesn’t know what to do. Juleka has played pianissimo for so long now that she’s scared to enter the endgame with a bang. And she’s not convinced that Lila’s words alone will be enough to convince Alya.
For months now, Lila and Marinette have been in conflict. The words on Juleka’s phone, as harsh as they are, are only directed towards Marinette. It could be retaliation. It could be self-defense. Or, at least, Alya can excuse it that way.
The recording is pretty damning, but it’s hard to admit to being wrong. It would be enough to make her doubt, though, for sure. But if they aren’t swift, that doubt could disappear when Lila defends herself. They’d lose their chance to convince Alya. Maybe forever. That’s why Juleka hasn’t just sent her the file. That’s why she’s not sure what to do.
The day comes, too soon for Juleka’s liking, not soon enough for Marinette’s, that Alya figures out what’s happening. Lila has to have figured it out long before, but for all her manipulation she’s yet to sway any of them back with her siren song. Of course, even Lila doesn’t have things totally figured out, but Juleka prefers it that way, and Marinette is very explicit with her about not putting herself in danger. There’s not much worse Lila can do to her, she says, but Juleka shouldn’t have to go through the same thing. Besides, Marinette has her support now, and no one is swayed. For now, they let Lila believe what she wants.
The day Alya has enough is the day the projects are due. Everyone can feel the song in the air, and the tense strings keep everyone in their seats even after Mme. Bustier leaves. Alya is strung out; Lila curls over herself like a French horn.
That day is preceded by plans that never came. Anytime Alya or Lila asked the others to hang out, they’d find some excuse to refuse. As if they’d planned it. “Sorry, girl.” Nino says when she asks today. “I already agreed to hang out with Marinette today.”
There are crocodile tears, and it’s when she sees those that Juleka stands. Rose would have spent time with Lila, but she listened to the recording on Juleka’s phone. Rose’s tears were clear as glass and sincere as the song they poured from. Those scaly tears on Lila’s face, after that, are just offensive. Rose believed in her. They all did. But she is just a liar.
“I can’t believe you all!” Alya growls. It’s a familiar crescendo. Juleka wonders how she doesn’t hesitate. For a while, it seemed like she learned from what happened in the art club. Though, that seems like so long ago, now.
“It’s not their fault, Alya.” Lila tugs her sleeve pitifully. “It’s not their fault Marinette’s tricked them.”
“Yes, it is! You all should know better! What on earth did Marinette say to you all to make you turn on Lila? Can’t you see you’re hurting her? You’re all supposed to be her friends, but you’re abandoning her!”
Marinette slams her hands on her desk. Her song is that same sound, a syncopated beat.
“And you should be ashamed of yourself!” Alya says. “You’ve gone too far this time. You’re already cruel to Lila, but taking her friends?!”
There come moments when even the meekest of people have to speak, and though Juleka isn’t bold, she has a whole orchestra willing to play forte.
It’s time.
“Marinette didn’t do anything.” Alix rolls her eyes. “Just because we aren’t spending as much time with Lila as we used to doesn’t mean she’s turning us against her. Quit being paranoid, Detective.”
“If you were the friend you should be, you’d know that you’re making Lila feel terrible! And I know all of you have been spending a bunch of time with Marinette. It’s her, I know it. And you all need to come to your senses and stop defending her! She’s manipulating you!”
Lila cries and cries, and Marinette seethes hotter than Alya. Adrien holds her shoulder so that she doesn’t burn a crescendo. Not that that means nothing crescendos. Alya does so brilliantly.
“Marinette hasn’t done anything.” Kim scoffs. “We just don’t want to spend time with a liar.”
“A liar?!” Lila wails. “I knew it! Marinette got in your heads! Oh, Alya, I… I don’t know what to do. How could Marinette do this to me?”
“Don’t worry, Lila. She won’t get away with this. Everyone will see the truth.”
“Rose!” Lila comes over to Juleka’s desk, leans over to Rose. “I know you’re too good to fall for Marinette’s lies. You believe me, don’t you?”
Rose is crying. She bites her tongue and looks away, unable to speak. Juleka winces.
“Max, you’re the smartest boy I know. Surely you know Marinette’s lying.”
Max adjusts his glasses. “Actually… according to my calculations, you’re the one who’s lying, Lila.”
Lila retreats to Alya’s side. Alya holds her like the class had physically struck her. Alya’s glare is aimed at only Marinette. “How could you do this?” She hisses. “I’m not stupid. They didn’t just decide Lila’s lying. You tricked them somehow.”
Juleka looks at Rose’s tears and steps forward. She pulls her phone out of her bag. “Marinette didn’t do anything.” She says. Her song is as bold as her movements, as the swaying of her baton. “And no one was tricked.”
“Stop defending her! I know it was her!”
“It wasn’t.” Juleka keeps her voice level, but she’s not used to her lyrics being so loud. “It was me.”
Alya plays four flats and looks to Lila. Lila sees Juleka. Juleka holds her breath. Her baton still holds the time, but she can see the appraisal in Lila’s eyes. Shy, anxious, gullible. Not her. It can’t be her. Someone else. Marinette. Her lip quivers. “She even convinced Juleka to take the fall for her.” Lila says.
“No, she didn’t. Marinette didn’t even know we were convincing everyone.” Juleka says.
Alix nods. “She’s right. I was convinced by Nino.”
Nino chuckles. “For me, it was my dude Adrien.”
Alya glares at him. “Nino? Adrien? You, too?”
Lila covers her mouth. “Even you, Adrien?”
Adrien shakes his head. His song is still so gentle. Just a scale, down and up. “I’m sorry, Lila. I told you you’d only turn everyone against you if you kept lying. I’m… ashamed to admit I didn’t realize how you were hurting Marinette. Juleka just told me that, and how I could help. I didn’t do anything but give her some support. Nino figured it out, and then everyone else did.”
“You’re all delusional.” Alya says. “I can’t believe this.”
"Are we?" Juleka holds up her phone like a conductor’s baton. Everyone turns to her. The room is so quiet. She presses play.
“You think you’re so clever, Marinette.” Lila pales as her own song plays, lyrics and all, for all the world to hear. “But don’t think you’ve won. I still have that idiot you used to call a best friend. Does it hurt, knowing that even now your best friend likes me more than you?” Alya collapses onto the desk. “Enjoy this while it lasts but trust me, it won’t last long. I don’t know what you did, but I’ll have all your friends wrapped around my finger again in no time. And I’m not letting go again.” There’s a slight pause as the words sink into the crowd. “Oh, and Marinette? If you thought I was bad before, you better watch out. You’re going to regret doing this.”
There’s a long, long, long moment when no one plays. Juleka has her phone like a baton suspended in the air, and everyone, orchestra and audience, is still waiting for their cue. But the first note isn’t Juleka’s. It’s Alya’s. Juleka waits, they all do, until Alya slowly turns her gaze to Lila. “Lila?” Alya says.
“I… I… I had to defend myself! Marinette was stealing all my friends, trying to isolate me and make me all alone! I thought if I acted like that, I could scare Marinette into backing off! I would never have actually done anything!”
Juleka shakes her head. “It’s amazing how you can accuse Marinette of doing what you did to her.”
Alix snickers. “Yeah. I don’t know whether to be impressed or appalled. I mean, projection, much?”
A murmur ripples through the classroom. Everyone agrees. Alya clenches her fist. Her song is still ominously silent. “Marinette was right.” Alya’s song crashes like stars falling to earth. It’s deafening. “All this time, Marinette was right, and I…”
No one speaks.
“Hey, Alya?” Alix bounces in, her song light and airy with traces of metal. “You’ve obviously got dibs since Marinette wouldn’t, but if you want to, you know, rend flesh from bone, can I help?”
Nathanaël grabs her wrist and pulls her back. “Alix!” He hisses. “Stop that!”
“Come on, I’ve been waiting weeks for this!”
“Weeks.” Alya repeats. There’s no emotion in her lyrics. It’s all in her song. “You’ve known for weeks. You’ve all known, and I… I’m the worst friend in the world.” There are tears in her eyes, clear and sincere like Rose’s own, renewed already. “Marinette, I…” Marinette doesn’t look at her. Marinette leaves the room. Juleka wonders what she’s thinking. Alya turns back, and Lila is already gone. She, at least, knows when she’s lost control. She slips out while Alya is dumbstruck, long before Marinette leaves when Alya finally turns to her.
No one stops her. Hardly anyone even notices. Lila doesn’t go out with a bang. She doesn’t have a screaming crash or beautiful train wreck. No, Lila goes out with less than a whimper.
She’s lost. Even if she schemes, she’s not fooling their class again.
“I’m so sorry.”
Nino hugs Alya because he can’t help himself. Adrien paces between her and the door reaching out for Alya and Marinette both but hesitating to go to either. Rose goes down to Alya, but the rest of the class, Juleka included, pack up their things. Rose joins them, too, after a moment.
They allow them their privacy. Alya deserves that much. It’s a hard thing, to admit you’re wrong, and harder when you realize you’ve hurt others in your mistake. They all know that. They all did the same thing. What transpires in that classroom between Alya, Nino, and Adrien stays between them. As it should.
Juleka lets them play their songs in peace.
Juleka doesn’t rush. She doesn’t feel the need to. She holds Rose close and whispers to her until the tears stop coming, and then she heads to the front of the school like it’s a day like any other. Her eyes find Luka.
“Hey.” Juleka strides out of the school to meet her brother. His song hangs in the air around them, suspended. Juleka honestly can’t tell if he was actually playing it before she approached. This time, even though he does have his guitar with him, his hands are more concerned with the girl they’re wrapped around.
Luka’s song is a ghost of a tune, as faint as it is haunting. The notes pine for someone far away. Each tone pings like echolocation searching for their accompaniment. Clear like a solitary tone. Sincere like a thoughtless strum. It’s the song that has been stuck in Juleka’s head since the day Marinette first came over to help them with their fledgling band. Since the day her mother was akumatized. Since the day Luka fell in love. “Hey, Juleka.” He says. The lyrics are more familiar than any other song Juleka can think of. “Are you ready to go home?”
“Is Marinette?”
The girl in Luka’s arms pulls back, sniffs, and nods. “Yeah.” She takes Juleka’s hand in hers. “Let’s go home.”
“Marinette!” Adrien. “Are you heading out?”
Marinette wipes at her eyes again and nods. “Yeah. I’m going to Juleka and Luka’s place. Why?”
“Oh, well, it’s just…” Adrien clears his throat, rubs his arms. Further away, Juleka can see Alya watching with Nino at her side. She can’t tell from here what Alya’s song is doing. “I’m going to tell Alya not to bother you, okay? But you need to know that just because she’s not texting you doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to talk. She realized the truth now, so… whenever you’re ready, alright?”
Marinette stares for a moment, and then she laughs. Weak, but lilting. “Thank you, Adrien. I’m not ready to talk to her yet, so… thank you.”
“Of course.” He watches her. “I’ll, uh, see you later, then?”
“Yeah. Later.”
Luka lets her start walking away. He and Adrien share a look and a measure, and for the first time Juleka sees something pure there. Adrien nods stiffly. “Take care of her. Please.”
Luka’s song crescendos. “Thanks for looking out for her.”
Adrien smiles. They both nod. Juleka rolls her eyes.
Boys.
“Guys?” Marinette calls to them. All of them share a look and answer.
“Coming!”
“See you guys tomorrow!”
They return to the boat and don’t talk about school. Not yet. Today, Juleka joins Luka in sweeping Marinette off her feet with his music. They’re songs of sadness, of love, of forgetting, of forgiveness and grudges. They’re Luka’s songs, and Marinette’s too, sometimes. Really, Juleka isn’t necessary.
But she does play a mean bass. Sometimes, that’s enough. There wouldn’t be quite the same timbre, otherwise.
They play and dance the day away because they’re too scared or too young or too mature to sit and think too hard about what happened. They know it’s too soon, and that their cue doesn’t come in for a while yet.
Still, they also know that if they wait until they’re ready, they’ll be waiting for the rest of their lives.
They do too good of a job at forgetting, and night falls upon them suddenly. Marinette stares out the window and her eyes look like the Seine. Luka’s playing his song pianissimo, but it’s all forte to Juleka.
The notes peter out, and Marinette turns her head. “Juleka?”
“Yeah?”
“You told Adrien to talk to me, didn’t you? And Nino was because of you, too. Everyone was.”
Juleka isn’t a conductor. She’s not used to standing in the spotlight. “I didn’t do much.” She says. “It was Luka’s idea.”
Luka shakes his head. “I told Adrien to call her. You told him to support her.”
“Luka?” Marinette furrows her brow. “You, too?”
He rubs his neck. “We were worried about you. We thought you needed more than just us, so we wanted to get your other friends back. You said Adrien already knew Lila was lying, so we started with him.”
“…I see.” Marinette’s eyes and song find the Seine once more. “But if you asked him to, then did… did it mean anything when he called me? Would he have ever done that if you didn’t ask?”
The siblings share a look, and Juleka sees Luka bite his lip. “Marinette.” He says. “You know I love you.”
Her song does something wild, but she doesn’t respond.
There’s a too-long rest before Luka’s lyrics pick up again. “Yes. Of course, Adrien cares. I think he was just naïve. He only didn’t do anything because he didn’t realize you were hurting.” Marinette hums. Luka closes his eyes and grips his guitar too tight. “I don’t think it’s his fault. After we convinced him she was hurting you, he was eager to help.” His grip on his guitar loosens. “It’s hard to ignore a girl like you, Marinette.”
There’s another too-long rest. “He should have known.” Marinette says. “But… I also should have told him.” She sighs. “I guess I can’t blame him for not knowing.”
“No.” Luka agrees. “I guess not.”
Marinette reaches out to Juleka, for some reason. Juleka isn’t sure what’s going on, since that moment, she thinks, should be between Marinette and Luka, but she takes Marinette’s hand and allows herself to be pulled into a hug all the same. “Thank you.” Marinette whimpers. “So much. You’ve done so much for me, and not even just here. You got through to everyone when I was ready to give up.”
Juleka looks at Luka over Marinette’s shoulder and sighs. “You heard them.” She says. “Adrien convinced Nino, and he convinced Alix. I didn’t do everything.”
“You told Adrien what to do, and you convinced Nino and Alix and the rest of them, too.” She chuckles. “Do you really think none of them mentioned you? And… and you convinced Alya. You knew what Lila would do if we were put in the same group.” Marinette shakes her head. “Oh, my god. You totally played Lila. All just to convince Alya.”
Juleka shrugs. Luka smirks. Juleka knows the tune that sneaks into his song. “I didn’t even know about that until she came back with the recording.” He’s proud of her, Juleka knows, but she doesn’t think it’s anything special. “I can’t believe how brave she’s gotten.”
Brave?
There are a lot of words that could be used to describe Juleka, but she never thought “brave” would ever be one of them. She still disagrees. It’s just like Luka to say something like that, after all. He also says he’s better with music, after all, when really he’s better with words. He’s also jealous of Adrien, even though he’ll never say it out loud. There’re a lot of things Luka isn’t entirely truthful about, even if he’s just mistaken.
“Right?” Marinette says. She looks at Juleka. “You’re the best friend I could ask for.”
Juleka knows her cheeks are red, and she knows her song is playing forte. For some reason, that doesn’t bother her at all. “I only did what I could.”
Marinette hugs her one more time. “Exactly.” Then, she turns to Luka. “And you… you’re amazing. Really. I… couldn’t have done this without you.”
“You’re the extraordinary one, Marinette. I couldn’t do half what my sister did, but I’m just glad you’re better.”
Marinette blushes, and Luka does, too.
“I can’t believe it’s over.” Marinette says softly.
“It’s not.” Luka palms his guitar and forces his smile. “There’s still someone else you need to talk to.”
“Several someones, I think.” Marinette sighs. “But… I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”
Luka puts down his guitar with the same gentleness that he holds Marinette. “I know. There’s no rush.”
Marinette lingers in Luka’s touch. Juleka wishes she isn’t so familiar with this duet. Though, it’s true that this time there’s something a little different. Marinette and Luka’s duet has always been a ballad. It’s slow and careful and even when they miss notes they always laugh and play on anyway. It’s made, like many songs, through improvisation, the scratching of pencil on paper, and the gentle rapping of strings. It comes, like many songs, spontaneously and capriciously. There are moments when they get in the groove and it flows like they’re reciting their favorite song of five years, and there are moments when no matter how hard they try, they just can’t figure out the next note.
Their song is a ballad, and sometimes Juleka thinks it must be what Orpheus’ song was like. Through it all, though, Juleka hears the harmony – Marinette’s harmony – a gentle scale down and up, and Juleka wants to grab her and scream, “Don’t look back!” no matter how futile she knows it would be. She can’t, though. It’s not her place to interfere with that song. Instead, she leaves them their privacy, so that whatever develops, or fails to develop, in those moments alone in each other’s music is all Marinette’s and Luka’s.
That song doesn’t need her bass, and there are others that do. Luka isn’t the tricky type, anyway. He wouldn’t be satisfied with winning over Marinette’s affections through machinations and shenanigans. Quite frankly, neither would Juleka. So, there’s really only one route for them. Luka keeps playing, keeps trying to win her heart with the thing he thinks he’s best at, and the thing he’s actually a little better at. Neither look back.
Juleka is tempted to leave the two alone. Luka looks at her, though, and she knows the song they’re playing isn’t the ballad or even Luka’s ritualistic song. This one is Marinette’s, and there are still a few more measures to get through.
Sincerity is not such a rare trait. Many people are sincere most of their lives. But sincerity of doubt and the chance of being wrong is often scarce even in the best of times. It’s hard to admit to being wrong, and even harder when someone is hurt in that mistake.
Luka and Adrien eye each other. Whatever passed between them the last time they saw each other has waned. They’re still friendly, they were never hostile, but their songs slow to a crawl as they try to figure out what comes next.
Though, with the rest of the situation, Juleka isn’t so sure it’s not just the whole world slowing down for the chance to witness the present. The trees breathe and sag against the wind and lean in to listen closely. The grass reaches up for them and whispers sweet rustlings and then stills, so that Marinette can be heard loud and clear. The clouds hang low and refuse to move – they’ve put aside their toys, their dinosaurs and guitars and boats, and taken up a blanket.
Juleka wishes she could see shapes in the clouds. It would be a nice reprieve and would give the sun a chance to take part in what the rest of the world seems so intent on eavesdropping on, but she appreciates the blanket. There are few places more comforting than wrapped up in a fluffy blanket with her brother’s song lulling her to sleep.
The world is alive with its own music; it always is, but that day in the park even the world’s song slows and slows so that this moment doesn’t pass it up.
Marinette takes a step forward and the very sky holds its breath.
Don’t look back.
“Thanks for coming, you guys.”
Alya plucks a string, but the sky steals that breath, too.
“Of course, Marinette.” Adrien says.
“Where else would we be?” Nino says.
Marinette sighs. The sky lets go and there’s the dull buzzing of a note attempted but not committed to. “So…” She says. “You know the truth, now.”
Alya’s song had nearly always been forte, for as long as Juleka had known her. Today was no exception, but all the grace and certainty she was accustomed to hearing in Alya’s refrains has been stolen, leaving a husk of a song in its wake. There is too much hesitation, too much doubt, and every note comes in late and collapses at the first unintended flat. “Marinette, I’m so, so, so sorry. You were right. I should have believed you. Of all people, I…” She grabs her head and plays her hair like an accordion. “I was supposed to be a reporter! I should have fact checked everything from the start! I even put her on the Ladyblog, and… and I was supposed to be your best friend. Even if I did think you were wrong, I should never have thought you were being mean. I should have taken your word and double checked everything.” She turns away, and the trees steal her lyrics. The grass gives them back, a minute later. “I should have been the first to figure out what Lila was doing, but… I was the last. And… I can’t… I can’t ever make up for that. Marinette, I’m so sorry.”
Marinette’s song sputters, but the world is listening, and she has her friends there with her. Juleka wonders how this conversation went with Adrien, and with Nino, and with Alix, and with every other member of their class she wasn’t present to witness. Even Rose didn’t volunteer the details of her apology, and though Juleka can guess, she doesn’t ask. There are some things that should be private. The only problem with this one is that neither Marinette nor Alya are quite up for solos yet. Juleka thinks maybe it would be better if they wait a little longer; just until both girls are ready. But the fact of the matter is that it’s already started, and if they wait until they’re ready, they’d be waiting for the rest of their lives. They’re not ready, but they don’t miss their cue. That’s what friends are for.
“Alya.” Marinette sighs and shakes her head. “I don’t blame you for falling for Lila’s lies.”
Alya’s song crescendos, and maybe even sparks a little. “You don’t?”
“Of course, not. Everyone fell for it. Adrien and I just had proof early on, and so she stopped fooling us. If I’d met her didn’t see her steal Adrien’s book, or hear Ladybug call her out, I probably would have believed her, too.”
And then where would we be?
“But I’m a reporter! I told you to get evidence and prove that she was lying, but I never bothered checking if she was telling the truth myself. I just trusted her because I thought she was my friend. But… you’re my best friend! I should have trusted you, too, and at least checked.”
“You’re right.” Marinette says. “You should have. But I don’t blame you for trusting her. Heck, I don’t even blame you for wanting evidence that she was lying. I just… wish you would have believed in me enough to help me look for it.” She sniffs. “I… I could have handled it better, too. I should have told you that Lila threatened me back then. I should have tried harder to explain how I knew.”
Alya’s song surges fortississimo, but Marinette silences her by simply raising her hand. There’s a movement, as the world takes another slow breath. It’s something between a slow, steady beating and a long, endless note. A little like a song between two lungs, slipping past lips of leaves and grass in an exhale and inhale. “But, honestly? I’m not really mad about any of that. I’m a little hurt that you’d trust her more than me, since even though I didn’t have evidence it was still just her word against mine. I’m kind of offended that you would believe I’d do everything you accused me of, much less just because of jealousy. I thought you knew me better than that. But… I could forgive that. All of that, I could forgive. I already have, with Nino. I can even forgive that you didn’t realize I was hurting. I already did that with Adrien.
“I’m just not sure I can forgive how you talked to me.” Alya flinches, but Marinette just breathes and continues. “Even if you fell for Lila’s lies, even if you believed I really was such a bad person, if you’d just talked to me instead of… all of that… it’d be better. I dreaded going to school, because I knew everyone was on Lila’s side, but I could have dealt with that. I was… I was scared of you, Alya. I was probably more scared of you than I was of Lila. Lila made me alone, and I admit, I was lonely. It sucks, but I can handle loneliness. But you attacked me. And that would be bad enough, but you were my best friend, too. You were the one I cared most about. And I can’t help but think that if that’s how you act to someone you considered your friend… why would I want to be your friend? What’s to say the next misunderstanding won’t have you screaming at me again?” Another sigh, from Marinette and from all of Paris. “I can’t honestly say I was the most mature throughout this whole thing, but… I never forgot who my friends were. And Adrien and Nino didn’t, either.
“I really wish I could forgive you, but that’s why what you did is so different from everyone else. Even Alix – she said some mean things, too, but she still never acted like…” Marinette loses her lyrics, finally, and the sky graciously accepts them as she gives them up. Marinette’s song is slow, a gentle, complicated little melody. A ballad.
Alya’s is an aria. “I know.” Alya says. “I was… unforgivable. I just… I’m so sorry. I can’t even make any excuses. In hindsight, it was all so… stupid. I’m such an idiot.” Alya falls to her knees and buries her head in her hands.
Marinette takes a step forward and the very sky holds its breath.
She kneels down next to Alya and places her hands on her shoulders. She doesn’t say anything, but their duet starts up again when Marinette pulls her close and tucks her head into her shoulder. Glasses are tossed aside like their old tune by a frantic hand.
Their new duet comes, like many songs, spontaneously and capriciously. There are moments when they get in the groove and it flows like they’re reciting their favorite song of five years, and there are moments when no matter how hard they try, they just can’t figure out the next note. Juleka is honored to witness one shift from the latter to the former. She isn’t sure how long it will last, but it’s enough to get them past crying on the grass, at least.
Still, she’s of two minds on it. Juleka knows, deep in her own song, that she would not forgive Alya. She isn’t sure it’s wise for Marinette to do so, even if it hasn’t come yet. But people do grow, and people can change and this stanza in the songs of their lives is one they would all undoubtedly learn from. Alya included.
It’s delicate, like a triangle in the orchestra, but it still makes Juleka smile because despite that it’s clear like a musical note and sincere like a melody.
Not yet.