Chapter Text

Prologue

Sometimes I wonder if happiness is just a brief pause between chaos.

A breath.

A moment of stillness that never lasts.

Chapter 1

I spent the last three years pretending everything was okay. Smiling when my boss insulted me, nodding when co-workers whispered behind my back. Telling myself I was lucky to have a job, even as I broke down quietly every night.

But now... it’s done.

Sakura exhaled slowly, a shaky breath that felt like her first real one in years. Her finger hovered for a moment before finally tapping “Send” on the email.

Subject: Resignation Letter

It was over. She was free.

She let herself collapse onto her twin-sized bed in her modest apartment, her heart pounding, but not from anxiety—for once, it was relief.

“I actually did it,” she whispered to herself, a half-laugh escaping her lips.

The silence of her apartment wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She stretched out, hair splaying across the pillow as her favorite Taylor Swift song played softly in the background. The weight of the toxic workplace—the slander, manipulation, the narcissistic boss who used kindness as a weapon—finally began to lift off her chest.

She smiled.

Then—ding.

Her phone screen lit up. A notification from the credit card app.

"Monthly installment for your designer bag is due. Total: ¥87,000."

Her smile dropped. “What the—oh, crap.”

That pink Gucci bag.

The one she bought impulsively after her bonus, telling herself she deserved it, that it was different from all the other pink things she owned.

Because that’s what people called her—Pink Girl.

It wasn’t just because of her hair—she’d been born with pink hair. But somehow, pink had always followed her everywhere: a pink phone case, pink helmets from her days delivering food as a part-timer, pink sneakers, a pink water bottle, pink stationery, pink lipstick shades, even the pair of pink Hello Kitty socks she was wearing now to warm her toes. She even had a pink toaster sitting in her tiny kitchen.

Pink had simply become a part of her—whether she meant for it to or not.

Sakura sat up in bed, hugging her knees. “I really need another job. Fast.”

The phone buzzed again. This time, her mom.

She groaned but picked it up. “Hi, Mom.”

"Sakura! You just got home from work?" her mother asked cheerfully.

Sakura hesitated, eyes darting to the resignation email still open on her laptop. “Yeah… Just got back. Long day.”

"Poor girl, working so hard! Listen, your grandma and cousin Kurenai are visiting this week from Kobe. You should come by! Mirai really misses you."

Her heart tugged at the mention of Mirai, Kurenai’s daughter. Sakura adored that kid—she was like the little sister she never had.

“I wish I could, Mom. But I’m swamped. My boss has me working on so many projects... I don’t even get proper breaks anymore,” she lied smoothly.

"Oh no! Still? That company of yours is crazy. Well, if you can’t come, at least send Mirai a birthday gift, okay? She’s been asking about you every day!"

Sakura nodded, even though her mother couldn’t see her. “Of course. I’ll send her something special.”

Then came the part she dreaded.

"Also, Kurenai says she knows a young dentist. Handsome, responsible. She thought maybe you two could—"

“Mom.” Sakura cut her off. “We’ve talked about this.”

"You’re not getting any younger, sweetie. You’ll be 30 before you know it!"

Sakura closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Bye, Mom.”

She hung up and let the phone fall onto the bed beside her.

“Great. Now I’m single, jobless, and about to disappoint my entire family.”

She sighed and lay back down, pulling the blanket over her face. The glow from her phone teased her again.

On impulse, she downloaded Tinder. “Ugh, why not.”

She swiped through profile after profile lazily—guys holding fish, guys with suspiciously cropped ex-girlfriends, gym selfies, shirtless bathroom pics.

“This is so dumb,” she muttered, tossing the phone aside. “Scammers, cheaters, and catfish—who even finds real love here?”

She turned off the bedside lamp and wrapped herself tighter in the blanket.

“I’m never gonna meet the right guy, am I…”

Then she dreamed…

She wasn’t in her room anymore.

She was wearing a high school uniform.

“What the hell?” Sakura blinked, confused. The world around her shimmered like a VHS tape on rewind.

Suddenly, she was kneeling on the ground.

She looked down—there was ice cream on a pair of polished designer shoes.

“Wipe it!” a chorus of teenage voices jeered from somewhere above.

Her heart pounded. She looked up.

There he was.

That same face. Pale, striking, with jet-black hair and onyx eyes that looked straight through her.

Sasuke.

Behind him stood his usual crew: the red-haired girl with sunglasses practically glued to him, the smug boy with silver hair and a lazy smirk, and the Frankenstein-sized one who stared blankly.

“Do what you have to,” Sasuke said coldly.

Sakura’s blood boiled.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pink handkerchief—grandma’s gift, hand-sewn. With trembling hands, she began to wipe the edge of his shoe.

Wait.

She stopped.

“NOPE.”

She stood up. Then, without thinking, she yanked his leg, sending him toppling backward.

“Whoa—!”

His friends caught him just in time.

Gasps and boos erupted around her.

Sakura threw the handkerchief at his face.

“Clean your own damn shoes, you donkey booger!”

Laughter. Outrage. Chaos.

“I’m a 28-year-old independent woman, and I’m not afraid of some teenage prince wannabe!” she shouted, arms raised.

“And for the record, I almost did break your leg. Be grateful I didn’t!”

She stomped off, fuming, as the world swirled like a watercolor painting behind her.

Reality Again

Her alarm blared.

Sakura shot up in bed, drenched in cold sweat. It was 11 a.m.

“Crap. I forgot to feed Poppy.”

She scrambled out of bed in her bra and underwear, tugged on a T-shirt and shorts, slipped into house slippers, and darted to the kitchen.

Her tiny white poodle barked impatiently, spinning in frantic circles.

“I’m so sorry, Poppy! Mommy had a nightmare about that stupid guy who used to bully me at high school.”

The dog yapped again.

Sakura poured food into the bowl, then sat on the floor beside her furry companion, heart still racing.

“…Was that really just a dream?”

Because somehow, it felt like something had just… started.

- To Be Continued -

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

After a quick shower, Sakura emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her hair. She plopped onto the worn-out sofa in her tiny living room and poured a bowl of cereal, eating absentmindedly while scrolling through job listings on her phone.

Poppy, her cream-colored toy poodle, barked at the door with growing urgency.

“What is it now, Poppy?” Sakura muttered between chews, still scrolling. Her screen showed nothing but “Entry-level positions… Must have 5 years experience… Minimum GPA 3.9… Bilingual in five languages…”

Ding-dong.

The doorbell rang.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” she called out hoarsely. Her voice still raspy from sleep, she shuffled to the door and opened it.

A mailman stood there, slightly startled by her dishevelled appearance.

“Mail for Haruno Sakura,” he said, handing over a small stack.

“Thanks,” she said, grabbing them.

Her eyes scanned the envelopes. Electricity bill. Internet bill. Credit card bill. Apartment rent due in one week.

“Oh fuck—Jesus Christ,” she cursed under her breath, accidentally out loud.

The mailman blinked in surprise.

“Sorry, just woke up!” she added with a forced smile, closing the door as quickly as politeness would allow.

She backed into the kitchen counter, her breath hitching. The paper in her hands suddenly felt like bricks. The nausea started first, then the dizziness. Her pulse quickened. Palms turned clammy.

Poppy barked loudly, circling her feet like a siren.

“It’s okay. It’s fine. It’s… not fine,” Sakura mumbled, her voice cracking. “I need a job. ASAP.”

She poured herself a glass of water, gripping the counter until her hands stopped shaking. Slowly, she began to regulate her breath. She crouched down beside Poppy, who had dropped her favorite yellow duck toy at Sakura’s feet.

“You’re a genius, Poppy,” Sakura whispered with a weak smile, rubbing her little face.

Suddenly inspired, she lunged for her phone and found an old contact.

Naruto Uzumaki. Her childhood friend. They hadn’t talked in years.

She typed out a long message:

"Hi Naruto, this is Sakura. Long time no see! How have you been? Sorry to bother you, but do you still work at Newman Company? I’m currently looking for a job—particularly in PR. If you know of any openings, would you mind letting me know? I’d really appreciate it."

Sakura hovered over the "send" button.

Ugh, no. She couldn’t just text someone out of the blue asking for help like this. How pathetic. She deleted the message and chewed her lip.

But the pile of bills stared back at her from the counter, unbothered by her pride.

She looked at Poppy, who stared back at her with a weirdly understanding look.

“You’re right,” Sakura sighed. “What do I have to lose?”

She rewrote the message, this time adding a playful 😝 emoji to make it seem more casual—and hit send.

To distract herself, she turned on her laptop and started watching Love Actually. Poppy curled up at her feet with her yellow duck plushie.

Not five minutes later, her phone buzzed.

It was Naruto.

Hey Sakura! Long time no see! I thought you’d forgotten about me. Haha, good thing I never changed my number. About Newman—I’m not in HR, but I can ask around! I’m out of town for work right now, but I’ll check next week.

Then a second message popped up.

Also… I’m getting married next week!

Sakura choked on her cereal.

“Married?!”

Meanwhile, she was unemployed, broke, and freshly resigned from a toxic workplace, barely holding it together. Life really knew how to rub salt in the wound.

Another message arrived.

"Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier—I figured you weren’t interested in my life anymore. You never even accepted my friend request on SNS 😭

Anyway, say hi to Aunt Mebuki for me! I attached the wedding invite."

She clicked on the attachment.

There it was: Uzumaki Naruto & Hyuuga Hinata.

Sakura’s jaw dropped.

“Hinata?! The shy girl from high school?!”

She suddenly remembered that one summer night when the three of them had gone to the local festival together, watching fireworks explode over the river. Now here they were, getting married.

A smile tugged at her lips.

Hinata would look stunning in a white gown. And Naruto in a tux… kind of adorable.

Then—bam—the groom’s face in her mental image morphed into that arrogant, cold-eyed rich boy from her high school nightmare.

“Nope. Not this again,” Sakura groaned, shaking her head. “Get out of my brain, you smug prick.”

She snapped back to reality and typed a reply:

Wow! Congratsss, Naruto! I’m so proud of you. You have a great job and now you’re marrying a great woman! Wishing you a lifetime of happiness. Hope to see you soon.

She almost added “Please pray I get my life together,” but deleted that part.

He replied quickly:

Thanks! By the way, where do you live now? Can Hinata and I visit you sometime?

Sakura froze.

She glanced around her cramped apartment—the peeling wallpaper, the flickering light, the stacked Amazon boxes she still hadn’t recycled.

"Umm… I’m sort of living “nomadically” right now. Planning to move soon, so probably not a good time for visits lol 😅 "

Naruto replied again, “Nomad? What are you, a caveman? 😂 Also FOLLOW ME BACK YOU DORK. It’s been three years!”

Sakura laughed. “Fine, you idiot.”

She tossed the phone onto the sofa and slumped back down.

“Great. Now I need to find a dress for this damn wedding…”

She opened Instagram and finally checked her long-neglected friend requests. She took a grim sort of pleasure in blocking all the fake-smiling snake co-workers from her old office.

Then she gave in to temptation.

She checked Naruto’s feed.

Disneyland. Universal Studios. Bali. A luxury cruise in the Caribbean. Paris. London. Berlin. Perth.

Sakura’s heart sank.

She had never even left Japan.

She glanced over at the trophy shelf—debate competitions, academic writing awards, student leadership certificates—and felt a dull ache rise in her chest. None of it had led her anywhere. She had once dreamed of becoming an ambassador, or even a diplomat. But then Japan’s economy tanked just as she graduated, and jobs in foreign affairs disappeared like smoke. She had failed the national exams, been rejected by every fellowship, and ended up wasting three years in a toxic office that almost broke her.

Sakura leaned down and scooped Poppy into her arms.

“What do you say, Poppy? Walk time?”

The little poodle wagged her tail furiously in approval.

Sakura smiled. “Okay then. But first, let’s find your leash.”

- To Be Continued -

Chapter Text

Hello, my lovely readers,

I appreciate you all so much for reading my fictions. I just realized that since I’ve been uploading multiple fics in one day, the reach for this particular story has become stagnant. It no longer appears in the ‘updated chapter’ section, which may lead to less engagement and fewer new readers.

So, I’ve decided to delete many of the parts and update the fic weekly instead. It’s not because I care about statistics or engagement numbers—I truly don’t—but because I’ve worked so hard on this fic and its plot development for almost two years, and I genuinely believe this story deserves more love and attention.

When I first started, I wasn’t very familiar with how AO3 works, so I didn’t really know how to play the game.

For those of you who have already binge-read the fic up to Chapter 21, I want you to know how much I appreciate you, and I’m truly sorry for any inconvenience this may cause.

I’ll leave the first three chapters up for now, and I’ll continue with regular weekly updates moving forward.

Once again, thank you so much for your support.

Warm regards,
Felicia

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

That night, Sakura had the dream again.

It started the way it always did: suddenly, she was back in high school. She blinked, confused, as she found herself sitting at her old classroom desk, dressed once again in that stiff navy-and-white uniform she thought she'd never wear again.

“What the hell…” she muttered, looking around.

Everything was too vivid—the chalkboard, the posters peeling off the wall, even the dust particles floating in the late afternoon light. It was lunch break, and the classroom was empty. A strange, quiet hum filled the air.

Then—tap. Tap.

A harsh tap on her shoulder made her flinch.

She spun around. “Oh, you again?!”

There he was—him. That smug, arrogant prick from her past, standing tall with his arms crossed and that stupid smirk plastered across his too-handsome face.

“Of course it's you,” Sakura groaned.

Could this be her subconscious warning her about something bad about to happen?

"You're seriously sleeping during break?" he snapped in a cold, perfectly polished tone.

She scowled. “It’s my break. I’ll sleep if I want to! Who the hell put you in charge of my life?”

Sasuke cocked his head. “You should spend your breaks outside. The weather’s nice today.”

Sakura narrowed her eyes. “Well, I don’t want to be outside. Especially not with you.”

He smirked again, but this time, he covered his mouth—poorly. She could still hear the amused huff escaping his lips.

“What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?” he said, almost teasing.

“I’ll stop cursing you when you stop bothering me,” she snapped. “Leave me alone, Uchiha Sasuke!”

His brow twitched. “Wow. Full name? Bold of you to call me that out loud… deliveryman’s daughter,” he sneered.

He hadn’t meant to say it. Not really. There was something else in his voice—something Sakura couldn’t quite place.

“You camel dung of a human!” she barked, rising from her chair. “I’m out of here.”

But before she could storm off, Sasuke grabbed her wrist and dragged her toward the hallway. Sakura struggled, but he was too fast. Too determined.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Let go!”

Suddenly, the hallway dissolved around her, and in the blink of an eye—

She was standing on the baseball field.

Helmet on her head. Bat in her hands.

“What the—?!”

A group of students in their gym uniforms stood around, watching gleefully.

“C’mon, loser! You’ll miss for sure!” someone shouted from the sidelines.

“Trash!” another chimed in.

Sakura clenched her jaw. “I hate all of you.”

From the crowd, a shrill voice called out, “Do your best, Sasuke-kun~!”

It was that red-haired girl with the glasses—Karin. She bounced up and down in her cheerleader pose, making no secret of her obsession with Sasuke.

Sakura’s eyes swept the crowd.

Naruto and Hinata stood in the back, watching her with worried expressions. Sweet, rich kids. The only two who ever treated her kindly. But even now, they couldn’t help her.

Because Sasuke had threatened them—rumor had it, he could get anyone expelled. His family was that close to the school director. No one dared to defy him.

“Look out, Sakura! Ball incoming!” yelled a silver-haired boy—Suigetsu—from the dugout, pointing.

She turned just in time to see Sasuke hurling the ball straight at her.

Panic shot through her body. She swung the bat in a blind, frantic motion.

CRACK!

No, wait. THUD.

She missed.

The momentum knocked her off balance, and she collapsed in a graceless heap onto the dirt.

Laughter erupted like thunder.

“She sucks!”

“BOO!”

“Sasuke’s the GOAT!” the girls squealed. Karin clapped enthusiastically, practically bouncing on her toes in excitement.

Sakura stayed on the ground, her cheeks burning. “Shit. Shit. Shit,” she hissed under her breath.

Just as she was about to stand up, a hand appeared in front of her.

Not Naruto.

Definitely not Naruto. He wouldn't dare.

She looked up.

It was Sasuke.

His hand was outstretched toward her, waiting.

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

“You think I’d accept your help after all that?” she snapped, slapping his hand away. “No way in hell.”

She stood up on her own, brushing the dirt from her knees, wincing at the scrapes.

“You bastard. Monster. Prick,” she spat as she limped away.

Sasuke’s expression didn’t change. Not at first.

But then—just before she turned fully away—she saw it.

A flicker. A shadow of something real in his eyes. Sadness? Regret?

Longing?

Sakura blinked.

Wait… what?

Suddenly, the dream shifted. It was like she wasn’t herself anymore—but instead, a camera, floating behind Sasuke. Watching him stare at her as she walked away.

Watching the way he bit his lip.

The way his shoulders slumped.

The way he whispered, “Why do you always run away from me?”

And just like that—Sakura jolted awake.

Her heart pounded like a drum. Sweat clung to her skin, and her sheets were tangled around her legs.

1:11 a.m.

Of course.

She stared at the ceiling, trying to calm her pulse.

That was the second lucid dream in a row. And about the same person. Why? Why him?

She hadn’t thought about Uchiha Sasuke in years. Not seriously. Sure, his name came up in jokes. A ghost from the past. But now he was haunting her dreams like some twisted prophecy.

Was this the universe warning her about something? Was her burnout triggering some kind of unresolved trauma?

She shook her head and grabbed her phone from the nightstand.

Fine. Just to get it out of her system, she searched: Uchiha Sasuke on Instagram.

There it was.

uchiha_sasuke97

Private account.

Profile picture? A photo taken from behind—him standing at the edge of a lake, staring out across a horizon that was definitely not Japan.

Just his back. His dark hair. That familiar silhouette.

“Geez,” Sakura whispered. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She stared at the follow button.

Should I?

“Nope. No way,” she said aloud and tossed her phone into the nightstand drawer like it was cursed.

She pulled the blanket over her head and groaned.

“Please. Just let me have one dream where you don’t show up.”

And somehow, miraculously, she fell asleep.

That night, Sasuke didn’t return.

- To Be Continued -

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

The next few days of Sakura’s post-resignation life blurred into an uninspiring cycle of TikTok scrolling, impulsive snacking, and half-hearted job hunting. She’d apply to a couple of listings, then reward herself with three bags of potato chips and a marathon of “Love Island”— all while waiting for Naruto to send her information about any openings at Newman.

At some point, she stood in front of the mirror and frowned. Her skin looked dull. Her cheeks puffier. Her T-shirt — one with a giant Taylor Swift graphic on the back from the Reputation tour — now fit a little too snug around the midsection.

“This is not who I am,” she muttered to her reflection. “I’m not... unemployed potato-girl. Not yet.”

Poppy, her cream-colored toy poodle, tilted her head from the couch, as if agreeing.

Sakura sighed, tugged her hair into a messy bun, threw on shorts and the oversized hoodie, and clipped the leash onto Poppy’s collar. “We’re going outside,” she announced dramatically. “A walk. Fresh air. Mental stability.”

They headed toward the nearest park in lazy strides. The sun peeked through the clouds, and there was a warm breeze that smelled faintly like cinnamon waffles from a food truck nearby. It was... not bad.

Just as they were nearing the park gates, Poppy suddenly started barking uncontrollably toward a thick patch of bushes.

“Poppy! Stop! What are you doing?!” Sakura hissed, trying to tug the leash back. But her dog was frozen, hackles raised.

Curious and a little alarmed, Sakura crouched beside her. “Okay. Stay here. Mommy’s gonna check.” She crawled toward the bushes, brushing aside some leaves—

And there he was.

A black German Shepherd stood stiff among the brush, barking back at her with confusion and maybe a little fear in his amber eyes.

Sakura froze. “Hey... It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re a good boy, right? It’s okay.”

He didn’t lunge, so she slowly reached into her hoodie pocket and pulled out a dog snack.

“Treat? You want a treat?”

The shepherd hesitated — then gently took it from her fingers, his tail giving a cautious wag.

“There you go,” she cooed, relieved. “You’re not a stray, are you? You’ve got that well-fed look.”

The dog barked once, softly, as if in response.

Sakura chuckled. “Right. Let’s get you outta here.”

She took hold of the loose leash still clipped to his collar and guided him back toward Poppy, who was still barking like she’d just witnessed her mother betray her.

“Poppy, calm down!” Sakura snapped.

Poppy growled in protest, completely ignoring Sakura’s scolding.

Sakura bribed her with another treat. “Be a good girl, okay? We’re just helping him find his owner.”

Poppy huffed but munched on the snack anyway.

With a sigh, Sakura resumed walking, leading both dogs toward the dog park. “This is what we get for trying to be a good person,” she muttered under her breath.

But just as they reached the gate, a voice behind her — deep and panicked — rang out:

“River!”

The shepherd’s ears perked. Then in a flash, he bolted.

“Wait— hold on!” Sakura shouted, trying to hold on to the leash — but it slipped through her fingers.

She sprinted after the dog, heart pounding. “Come back here!”

River darted straight toward the direction of the voice, and for a moment, Sakura thought she saw someone — a tall man — crouch and scoop the dog into his arms.

She skidded to a halt.

The man’s back was to her. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a black long-sleeve shirt. His dark hair tousled perfectly like some kind of effortless shampoo commercial. She squinted, a weird sense of familiarity creeping in. Wait... Do I know him?

But just as she stepped forward, a group of joggers passed between them. She waited for them to clear—
And the man was gone. Just like that. Vanished.

“What the hell...?”

Sakura stood in stunned silence, blinking at the now-empty stretch of sidewalk.

Did I just imagine that?

A bark snapped her out of it.

“Poppy!” she gasped, realizing she’d left her own dog behind near the entrance.

She spun and raced back, heart in her throat.

There was Poppy, still exactly where she’d been — barking, anxious, but loyal.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Sakura whispered as she scooped her up into her arms. “I didn’t mean to leave you. You’re my one constant. My baby girl.”

Poppy licked her chin as if to say, You better be.

As she hugged her dog tightly, Sakura glanced back toward where the man had disappeared. Her thoughts were spiraling again.

She’d just seen someone oddly familiar. Even his figure rang some strange bell.

But most unsettling of all — for the second time that week — she couldn’t shake the gnawing, ridiculous possibility that her past wasn’t done with her yet.

...

A few days later, Sakura found herself in the middle of what she dramatically dubbed her unemployment arc, now featuring: wedding panic.

Naruto’s wedding was fast approaching, and she was currently drowning in a pile of clothes on her bed—none of which she liked. Sakura groaned, tossing aside a wrinkled purple gown with a huff. “Ugh. Everything I own looks like it came from a clearance bin in 2013.”

She glanced at the corner of her room where a small stack of designer shopping bags sat accusingly. Especially that one. A Gucci bag she’d impulsively bought on a “treat yourself” whim before quitting her job. She hadn’t even paid off the ¥87,000 instalment yet.

Sakura let out a frustrated puff of air and side-eyed a couple of hand-me-downs from her mom—vintage, yes, but not in the trendy way. “I am not showing up to Naruto’s wedding looking like his aunt.”

A loud rumble from her stomach broke her internal fashion meltdown. “God, I’m hungry.”

She stomped into the kitchen and yanked the refrigerator door open. Her expression fell.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” she muttered.

Inside: two sad eggs and a lone sausage.

“This is pathetic.”

Left with no other option, Sakura cracked the eggs into a pan and tossed the sausage in beside them. As they sizzled, the smell wafted through the tiny apartment.

Poppy, her loyal but greedy poodle, immediately came trotting over, barking at her feet with her tail wagging.

“Girl, seriously? You just ate five minutes ago!” Sakura scolded, frowning.

Still, she sighed, scooped out half the scrambled eggs onto a tiny plate, and placed it on the floor. “Fine. Half for you. Half for me. One egg left for dinner. Yay, budgeting.”

While chewing on her minimal lunch, Sakura checked her mobile banking app. Thankfully, she still had enough in savings to cover rent, bills, and a few essentials for a little while longer—but definitely not enough for a designer gown to wear to an extravagant wedding.

She glanced at Poppy, who was now begging for more egg.

“No, baby. That’s all you get. We’ve got to start rationing your dog food too. Mama’s broke.”

After cleaning up, Sakura knew what she had to do. She grabbed her tote bag, slipped on her beat-up sneakers, and leashed Poppy up. No taxis today—she took the bus to Target to restock her pantry as cheaply as possible. Luckily, her elderly landlord was kind enough to watch Poppy whenever she needed to run errands.

Once she arrived, Sakura grabbed a shopping cart and headed straight for the food section. She tossed in instant noodles, a dozen eggs, two packs of sausage, some vegetables, and a handful of tomatoes. Simple and affordable.

Then she wandered to the pet aisle, eyeing the dog treats. “You better appreciate this, Poppy,” she muttered as she picked out a small bag of chicken snacks.

Just as she reached for the shelf, she heard a familiar male voice from the other side of the aisle, muffled slightly by the neatly stacked products between them.

“Okay, we’ll talk more tonight. I’ll be at Uptown Hills restaurant at seven. Bye,” the voice said before hanging up.

Sakura froze. That voice… it sounded so familiar.

She leaned closer, catching only a glimpse of the man’s jaw and mouth through the gaps in the shelf. Strong jawline. Full lips. And from what little she saw—definitely good-looking.

Before she could piece anything else together, she accidentally bumped her cart into a small boy walking with his mother.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Sakura bowed repeatedly.

The woman scowled. “Watch where you're going next time,” she muttered and walked off without another glance.

Sakura hissed under her breath, “Geez, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

When she turned back to peek through the aisle, the man with the familiar voice was gone.

Could that have been River’s owner? she wondered. The tone, the confidence—it reminded her so much of that deep, velvety voice she heard calling for the German Shepherd at the park.

But then again, plenty of men had voices like that. Podcasters. News anchors. Even that barista she crushed on last year.

Still… she couldn’t shake the feeling.

At the checkout line, as she stood stuck behind five other people with full carts, she caught sight of a tall man in a sharp business suit walking through the glass doors of the store.

Her heart skipped. Was that him?

She wanted to run after him, just to catch a better look—but she was trapped, surrounded by beeping scanners and impatient customers. And just like that, he disappeared into the city crowd beyond the sliding doors.

Sakura sighed and looked down at her cart full of instant noodles, vegetables, and dog snacks. “Great. A mysterious, handsome stranger in a nice suit walks out of my life… while I’m holding twelve packs of instant ramen.”

She shook her head and muttered to herself, “I probably won’t ever see him again.”

But something in her gut told her otherwise.

- To Be Continued -

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Sakura lay curled up on the couch, cocooned in an oversized purple hoodie pulled over her head, with a pair of Pikachu socks stretched up to her calves. Poppy had been asleep at her feet for a while, probably passed out from eating too much. The TV flickered dimly in the darkened room, playing a rerun of Final Destination 2. Sakura watched half-heartedly, her eyes glassy with fatigue, yet somehow wide awake.

It was already past 10 PM, but the restlessness in her chest made it impossible to sleep. On nights when her anxiety crept up without warning, she found herself turning to horror movies—not because she enjoyed the gore, but because, strangely, they calmed her. Maybe, on a subconscious level, it felt soothing to watch fictional characters go through something much worse than her own life. Misery, when exaggerated enough, became a kind of comfort.

Sakura had long given up on therapy. Talking to professionals hadn’t done much to ease her unease. Deep down, she knew the real work was something she had to do herself: to face whatever it was that kept tugging at her nerves, even though she still couldn’t name it.

She had been bullied since kindergarten—mocked for her big forehead and for crying too easily. That should’ve made her tougher. And in some ways, it had. But it had also made her sensitive, fragile even. People always assumed you grew stronger through pain. What they didn’t realize was that even the strongest people needed safe places too.

She once had Naruto and Hinata as her safe space during high school. But entering college, and then the professional world filled with competition and veiled cruelty, she had to learn to survive alone. There was no real sanctuary left for her now—except maybe her tiny apartment, and Poppy.

Certainly not her parents’ house.

Her mother, for instance, had become obsessed with setting her up on dates with the sons of family acquaintances ever since Sakura turned twenty. The older she got, the more persistent her mom became. It was becoming suffocating.

The reasoning? Simple: her mother didn’t want Sakura to “end up like Aunt Tsunade.”

Aunt Tsunade ran a small hair salon in their old neighborhood. She had once been engaged, but after that fell through, she chose to stay single and focus on her business. Now in her forties, she was independent, beautiful, and unapologetically alone. And still, men chased her. Uncle Jiraiya, their eccentric neighbor, often made grand, awkward attempts to take Tsunade on a date, always ending in rejection. Still, he kept trying.

Sakura admired that woman. But to her mother, Tsunade was a cautionary tale, not a role model.

In reality, times had changed. In modern Japan, being an unmarried woman was no longer a social death sentence. Birth rates had plummeted, and more young people were delaying or avoiding marriage altogether due to financial strain or personal freedom. But still, her mother clung to that outdated fear—that Sakura would end up alone, with no one to take care of her.

Maybe that fear had mutated into Sakura’s own chronic anxiety, passed down like a family heirloom. She sighed and yawned. At least she had Poppy.

She glanced at her sleeping dog and whispered, “Please live a long life, okay, sweetheart?” while gently stroking her curly fur.

The thing was, Sakura wasn’t afraid of being alone.

What she feared was being surrounded by people who didn’t truly see her. And sometimes, being alone was the only place where she could feel whole.

Soon, she drifted off, a light snore escaping her lips.

The TV continued playing, casting light over the room as a news segment began:

“Japan’s leading tech giant, Newman Enterprise, has just launched its most ground-breaking product yet—a triple-fold AI-powered smartphone that can expand into a full-sized tablet. With flexible AMOLED Gorilla Glass, an IP68 waterproof rating, and a 300-million-fold durability promise, the phone is expected to change the market.”

On screen, Newman’s CEO Aruhima Sakamoto appeared alongside his newly appointed marketing manager—Uchiha Sasuke.

The event was a star-studded spectacle, featuring international brand ambassadors like Byeon Woo-seok, Fumiya Takahashi, and IVE’s Jang Wonyoung for East Asia; Shanaya Kapoor for South Asia; Lily-Rose Depp for Europe; Sabrina Carpenter and Austin Butler for the US and Canada; and BLACKPINK’s Lisa for Southeast Asia.

But amid the celebrities, all eyes subtly gravitated toward Sasuke.

When he sat beside Austin Butler, many in the media couldn’t help but comment that Sasuke looked even more striking than the Californian actor. The global pre-orders for the tri-fold phone had already approached 20 million units, despite the $2,800 price tag.

The camera zoomed in on Sasuke as he gave a poised statement in fluent English. And in that exact moment, Sakura started dreaming.

She was suddenly sitting in a manicured meadow, sipping tea from an elegant porcelain cup like some 19^th-century duchess. Everything was peaceful.

Until it wasn’t.

The scene shifted violently. Now she was standing on a golf course, dressed in a ridiculous caddy uniform and struggling to carry a full bag of golf clubs.

“Hurry up, Forehead!”

That deep, familiar voice barked from somewhere ahead of her.

Sakura groaned and stomped her feet in the turf.

Damn it. Not him again.

“If you don’t want to be my caddy today, you better pay for the shoes you stepped on yesterday! Got it?” Sasuke snapped, his arms crossed as he glared at her from across the golf course.

“Oh please! You buy new shoes every day anyway! What’s the big deal?” Sakura shot back, marching toward him while dramatically lifting one foot to display her worn-out sneakers. “Have you even seen my shoes? They're falling apart!”

Sasuke sighed heavily, almost imperceptibly.

The truth was, he had noticed her shoes. Long before anyone else did.

In fact, the only reason he roped her into this ridiculous last-minute caddy job was so he could pay her—disguised as a favor—without hurting her pride. He knew Sakura would never accept money or gifts directly from him, especially given her deep-seated grudge since their first day of school.

But this? This way, she could keep her dignity, and maybe even buy herself a decent pair of shoes.

Still, he kept his usual stoic expression.

“Hey! I know your shoes are falling apart,” he barked again, arms crossed. “But that’s no excuse to walk like a turtle, understand?”

Sakura scowled. “Ugh! You’re so cruel. I’m literally carrying golf equipment that weighs heavier than my entire house, and you have the nerve to—”

“Less whining, more walking,” Sasuke said coolly, adjusting his gloves. “You agreed to do this job for extra pocket money, didn’t you? Every complaint you make is costing you two cents off your pay.”

Sakura muttered curses under her breath.

If it wasn’t for the money, I wouldn’t do this even if the world was exploding.

With an exaggerated groan, she dropped the heavy golf bag next to him.

“Here. Take your precious club,” she huffed, puffing out her cheeks like a sulking child as she handed him one of the clubs.

Sasuke accepted it, quickly turning away to hide the small smile creeping onto his face.

There was something... absurdly charming about her pouty expression. But of course, he’d rather die than admit it.

“And the ball,” he added flatly, trying to suppress the faint blush on his cheeks.

Sakura crouched, fished out a white golf ball from the front pocket of the bag, and shoved it toward him without much grace.

Sasuke positioned the ball on the tee, setting his stance to swing. He focused, lining up his shoulders, gripping the club, eyes narrowed. But something shifted.

Suddenly—

It wasn’t the golf ball anymore.

It was... Sakura’s head.

Buried in the grass, her face frozen in panic as her body was trapped beneath the soil.

“SASUKE! WHAT THE HELL! STOP! DON’T HIT MY HEAD!! SASUKE, I SWEAR TO GOD—!!”

Her scream echoed just as he swung the club.

---

Sakura bolted upright on the couch, gasping for breath. Her forehead was covered in cold sweat, her hoodie tangled around her neck. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she scanned the room in panic. It took a second to realize—

It was just a dream.

A terrible, bizarre dream.

Poppy barked at her anxiously and jumped into Sakura’s lap, her high-pitched yaps filling the room.

She blinked. The TV was still on, humming with static after playing reruns all night.

The clock above it read 9:30 AM.

“Crap!” Sakura groaned, stumbling off the couch, causing Poppy to tumble down too. “This is going to kill my electric bill…”

She rushed over and yanked the power cord from the wall with exaggerated urgency, as if it would reverse the charges. Poppy kept barking, circling her legs impatiently.

“I know, sweetie, I know. You’re starving,” she muttered, still groggy. “Blame your mom who overslept again…”

She scooped up Poppy’s dry food from the cupboard, added a bit of fish oil and vitamins, and placed it into her dish. The little poodle dove in like a wild animal, scarfing down every bite with tail-wagging enthusiasm.

Sakura couldn’t help but smile, reaching out to stroke her back gently. “You have no idea, do you? I’ve been having the weirdest nightmares lately…”

She sat on the floor beside her dog, hugging her knees, her head resting on top of them.

“Why the hell do I keep dreaming about that jerk?” she mumbled. “And why does it feel so... vivid?”

There was no answer, of course—just the soft crunching of kibble beside her and the hum of the fridge in the quiet apartment.

---

Sakura was once again rummaging through her tiny wardrobe, trying for the millionth time to pick the right dress for Naruto's wedding. She had already turned down the alumni reunion invite from her smug college friends—the ones she wasn’t even that close with. There was no way she could show up jobless without feeling utterly humiliated.

She sighed and held up a black dress that looked a little too sultry for a wedding.

"Funny, isn’t it? I turned down a reunion because I’m unemployed, but I’m accepting a wedding invitation from a childhood friend who works at freaking Newman," she muttered to herself with a dry laugh, shaking her head.

At the very least, she hoped Naruto might have some good news about a job opportunity. Still, she didn’t want to get her hopes up. She hadn’t heard a word from him about it lately. Maybe he was just too busy. Or maybe, deep down, he didn’t really care—maybe he just wanted a full guest list to hype up his wedding.

"Stop it," she whispered, shaking her head to rid herself of the creeping negativity.

After tossing aside several more options, her hand stopped at a soft, baby pink dress. Her prom dress. The dress from that night.

The night she would never forget until the day she died.

A flash of memory surged forward.

She had walked to the podium in disbelief, thinking she'd been chosen as prom queen. It never made sense to her—why would her smug classmates suddenly crown the non-famous, poor girl they loved to mock?

But there she was. Everyone was clapping, even Karui and Suigetsu, the MCs for the night. Well, everyone except Karin, who had nominated herself and was clearly fuming that she’d lost—and worse, that Sasuke, the prom king, was standing next to Sakura.

Karui placed a tiara on Sakura’s head, the crowd clapped again, and Suigetsu took the mic.

“Alright, calm down, everyone! Let’s hear a few words from our prom queen of the year, Miss Haruno!” he called, hyping up the room.

The claps turned oddly expectant, as if waiting for something else.

Just as Sakura opened her mouth to speak, it happened—her real-life Carrie moment. A bucket of red paint flew toward her. But before it hit her, someone jumped in front of her. She gasped.

It was Sasuke.

He had wrapped her in a hug and taken the full brunt of the paint. Gasps erupted across the room. And then, in the most bizarre twist of all—he kissed her.

The first and only girl Uchiha Sasuke had ever kissed.

Red paint dripped down from his jet-black hair to his jaw like blood. Sakura stood frozen, heart racing, the shock of it all sending her into a silent panic attack. The only thing grounding her in that moment… was the kiss.

Back in the present, Sakura snapped out of it with burning cheeks. "Nope," she muttered, stuffing the pink dress back into her wardrobe like it had bitten her.

---

The day dragged. Job scrolling turned into endless doomscrolling, and the funny TikToks she watched were starting to feel more like brain rot.

"Poppy, mommy needs a break. I’m heading out for a bit—just going to grab some beer. I’ll be back in 30 minutes, tops," she said, stroking her dog who was curled up faithfully at her feet.

Poppy whimpered and trailed behind her as she neared the door.

Sakura sighed. "Ugh, fine. You’re coming too. But promise me—you don’t poop inside Lawson, alright?"

Poppy barked happily and wagged her tail as Sakura clipped on the leash.

They strolled down the quiet sidewalk under the dim summer evening sky. Soon, they reached the nearest Lawson.

"Thank you," Sakura told the cashier after paying for a few beers, two-flavor ice cream, and a small pack of dog snacks.

She opened one of the ice creams as she walked out. "You want a snack, too?" she cooed, her voice babyish as Poppy wagged her tail and barked eagerly.

Sakura opened the treat and knelt to offer it. Poppy licked it up with gusto.

"My smart little baby," she smiled, stroking the dog’s head.

Unbeknownst to her, a black BMW had pulled into the lot. A man with dishevelled black hair and a loosened tie stepped out, running a hand through his hair. His handsome face was etched with exhaustion.

"All full now? Let’s go home," Sakura said as she threw the snack wrapper into a nearby trash bin and pulled her hoodie tighter.

"Weird... It’s summer already, but this wind feels like autumn," she muttered, teeth slightly chattering.

Poppy tilted her head in confusion.

"You’re not cold, huh? Of course not. You’ve got fur. I’ve got nothing," she said with a pout, pulling the hood over her head and tightening the leash.

As she and Poppy strolled away, the man by the BMW kept watching her.

Eyes wide.

Like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

- To Be Continued -

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

Sakura hadn’t planned on going out again.

Just three days ago, she had dragged herself to Target to buy instant ramen, some vegetables, eggs, and two-for-one dog treats for Poppy. Yet she still impulsively spent more than she should have—splurging on a new body scrub and face mask that promised to 'detox negative energy’. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

Now she was back to counting coins and squinting at her online bank balance. She told herself it was part of healing—discipline, simplicity, not feeding the capitalist machine. Mostly, though, she was just broke.

So when she ran out of toilet paper, it felt personal.

She tried to hold out—first napkins, then old towels. Then she panicked, realizing she was dangerously close to using her old university hoodie.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” she muttered to no one in particular as she slipped into sneakers and zipped up her hoodie. “I surrender.”

The plaza was only a few blocks away, a cluttered row of discount stores, a 24-hour minimart, and an odd mishmash of food stalls and random services. It smelled like grilled chicken skewers and car exhaust. Poppy stayed behind this time, tucked into her dog bed and still annoyed at Sakura for forgetting her morning walk.

All Sakura wanted was to grab some toilet paper and shampoo—in and out. Five minutes, tops. She passed the takoyaki stand with effort, resisting temptation. She waved off the flier guy offering nail salon promos. She was focused.

Until she saw the tarot reader.

The table was tucked near the escalators, squeezed between a dusty key duplication stall and a store selling retro anime figurines. A cloth in deep purple was draped over the table, weighted by polished stones and a flickering electric candle. Behind it sat an old woman with sharp eyes, silver hair tied back in a long braid, and hands that looked like they had seen decades of truth.

Before she could stop herself, Sakura found her legs moving. Her wallet screamed. Her common sense screamed louder.

“Just one reading,” the woman said without looking up. “First time is free.”

Sakura hesitated.

“You are not here by accident,” the woman added, eyes finally meeting hers.

Sakura sat.

The woman shuffled the cards with steady fingers, then asked, “What weighs on your heart?”

“Money,” Sakura blurted. “And men. And life. And my job. Or lack of job.”

The woman smiled. “Let’s see.”

She drew three cards and placed them face-up.

The first: The Man from the Past — a figure walking away but looking back over his shoulder.
The second: The Moon — shadowy, reflective, secrets just beneath the surface.
The third: The Wedding — two figures holding hands beneath an arch of flowers.

Sakura blinked. Then laughed. “Well, that’s obvious. I’m going to Naruto’s wedding this Saturday—he’s my best friend from high school. Definitely ‘the man from the past,’ right?”

But the woman was no longer smiling.

Her eyes locked onto Sakura’s. And in that split second, it all rushed back—not like a calm slideshow, but like a box she’d taped shut years ago suddenly ripping open from the inside:

She saw prom night—the weird, chaotic moment when Sasuke accidentally kissed her, after splashes of red paint came out of nowhere. His face had been streaked with red paint that looked like blood, and hers had been flushed with confusion and disbelief.

She remembered gym class, when he tossed a baseball directly at her head with that maddeningly smug expression, like he knew she’d miss the catch. Which, of course, she did.

She remembered the afternoon he bullied her into being his caddy, carrying his entire golf set under the blazing sun. Her arms had been sore for days. And yet, afterward, he silently handed her a cold juice box. She took it, scowling. He looked away, but she saw the way his ear turned pink.

She remembered him standing behind her during practice, adjusting her grip on the golf club, his hands barely touching hers. Her heart had raced so hard, she thought it would leap out of her chest.

She remembered the school trip to the beach—how she had drifted too far in the water, panic rising in her chest. Then, suddenly, he was there, dragging her out of the tide, muttering something about her being a disaster magnet.

She remembered throwing her worn-out sneaker at his back in the middle of an argument, hitting him square between the shoulder blades. He didn’t turn around. He just sighed. But he didn’t throw it back, either.

And then, clearest of all, she remembered the rain—the stormy afternoon when her umbrella broke, and he appeared out of nowhere to hand her his. “It’s useless anyway,” he had muttered. “You look like someone who suits broken things.” Then he walked away in the downpour.

They had been teenagers. Angry, clumsy, and defensive. But somehow, those moments had etched themselves deep inside her—sharp as glass, soft as memory.

Sakura’s heart stuttered. Her breath caught.

The old woman said nothing. Just watched.

“It can’t be him,” Sakura whispered. “I hated him. He made my life hell. We never even saw each other again.”

The woman gently tapped the Moon card. “Sometimes the past hides what the heart refused to see.”

Then, with a small, knowing smile, she added, “You’ll see him soon.”

---

Sakura stood up abruptly, mumbling a quick thanks. She nearly forgot her toilet paper.

As she hurried back to her apartment, a black BMW drove past—the car that had once been parked outside the Lawson the night she bought beer. The one with the handsome guy behind the wheel.

Back home, she dropped the shopping bag on the floor and stared at the wall, stunned.

“No way,” she muttered. “No freaking way.”

But her heart was pounding, and for the first time in weeks, it wasn’t from anxiety.

It was something else entirely.

Something she didn’t dare name yet.

---

Sakura was still trembling with anxiety when she rushed into her room. Without even taking off her shoes, she went straight to her closet and opened the bottom drawer.

It had been a long time since she’d touched that book.

The one from her high school graduation—bound in navy faux leather, its pages heavy with cringeworthy nostalgia. Inside were photos of her awkward teenage self: greasy bangs, hormonal acne, and a smile that tried too hard. She hadn’t looked at it in years.

She flipped to the page with a folded receipt marking it. Her fingers slowed. There she was—still looking naive and painfully ordinary (some things never changed). Her eyes drifted sideways to the photo of a boy she had furiously scribbled over until his face was all but obliterated in thick, angry pen marks.

Uchiha Sasuke.

Beneath his photo was the quote he had chosen to include:
"The mind is not a vessel to be filled, but a fire to be kindled." – Plutarch.

Sakura bit her lip. A new wave of panic surged through her chest like a glass puzzle shattering all at once—memories long buried clawing their way back to the surface.

It had happened on prom night.

The night she was crowned prom queen—wearing a dress lovingly sewn by her grandmother, expecting nothing more than a magical evening, just like in the movies. But instead of magic, she got chaos.

Red paint had exploded toward her just as she was about to give a speech she hadn’t even prepared. Some prank gone wrong—someone had aimed at her.

Sasuke had thrown himself in the way.

He took the full brunt of it, his expensive designer tuxedo ruined, face streaked in red that looked disturbingly like blood. And in the confusion, the noise, and the flashing lights—

He kissed her.

Her first kiss. Stolen by the guy who had annoyed her more than anyone else in school.

She had panicked—froze, then shoved him away with both hands. He’d stumbled back, landing hard on the stage floor, still dripping paint.

All she could think about then was how ruined her dress was, how humiliated she felt, how angry she was at him for making the moment even worse.

She hadn’t even said thank you.

The truth was, he had protected her. The red paint had barely grazed her gown. Nothing like the soaked, horror-movie mess it could have been. He had spared her that. And she had repaid him with a shove and silence.

Maybe that’s why he’d treated her coldly for the rest of senior year.

Maybe that’s why he disappeared without saying goodbye.

“I was annoying,” she whispered, the words raw as they left her mouth.

She reached out and touched the photo she had once scribbled over in a fury. The ink had faded slightly over time, but the damage was permanent. No matter how many times she tried to erase it—she couldn’t bring it back to how it was.

Just then, her phone buzzed in the pocket of her hoodie. She jumped.

It was a message from Naruto.

With a shaky breath, she slid the book back into the drawer, wiped her tears quickly, and opened the chat.

Naruto:
"Sakura, I just got word from HR—they’re doing a limited selection for an admin staff role in the marketing team.
I can’t help you directly because it’s a fair process, and you’ll have to go through all the steps like everyone else.
But I did put in a good word with my boss to make sure they take your application seriously.
I really believe in you.
Good luck, and don’t forget to come to my wedding! I saved you a VVIP seat 😉"

Sakura let out a small breath. Her chest loosened a little.

Maybe things weren’t completely hopeless after all.

She had been unemployed for a while after college, and though she had survived worse, it still felt like the older she got, the heavier the pressure became. Her anxiety had grown with her—always preparing for the worst, always expecting failure.

She quickly typed back:

Sakura:
"Woww! Thanks, Naruto. I’ll send in my CV right away!
Wishing you and Hinata the bestest wedding ever! I seriously can’t wait. Give her a hug from me too! 😏"

She hit send and tossed the phone onto her bed just as she collapsed onto it herself, arms spread out.

Poppy was zooming around the living room, chasing some invisible enemy and thudding into furniture. For once, Sakura let her mind go quiet.

And then, out of nowhere, a strange impulse struck her.

She thought of the dress.

The prom dress.

Was it still in the back of her closet?

Was it even wearable?

She pinched the soft flesh at her waist and grimaced. “Hopefully it still fits,” she muttered.

But a small, inexplicable part of her wanted to try it on—just to see if it still held a piece of who she used to be.

Or maybe, to see if it could help her step into something new.

- To Be Continued - 

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Naruto’s wedding was today.

And here was Sakura, nearly suffocating as she wrestled with the zipper of her old prom dress.

“God, this was such a bad idea,” she groaned, sucking in her stomach and tugging the zipper up with desperate little hops. “Why did I ever think this would still fit? Of course I’ve gained weight—I’m an adult now!”

The fabric clung to her ribs like shrink wrap. She bit her lip, breathing shallowly as she tried to hold the position. “Okay, this is dumb. I can’t even move in this thing.”

She let out a frustrated sigh and reached behind her back, trying to undo the zipper without tearing the whole thing apart. When that failed, she gave up and yanked it down with a grunt.

Throwing open her closet doors, she scanned the few remaining dresses she hadn’t already ruled out. Nothing seemed right—too formal, too casual, too obviously worn. And everything took more time to consider than she had to spare.

“I can’t be late to a rich people’s wedding,” she muttered, flinging hangers aside. “Especially not when they were nice enough to give me a VVIP seat. If I show up late looking like a mess, I’ll be a walking donkey.”

With time ticking, she returned to the prom dress, now abandoned on her bed. She gave it one last look, grabbed a handful of safety pins from her desk drawer, and went to war.

The back zipper wouldn’t close, but she figured out a trick with the clips—carefully aligning the fabric using her phone’s camera as a mirror, one pin at a time. She winced every time she nearly stabbed herself.

“There,” she breathed, stepping back to admire her handiwork. The pins weren’t visible, the dress looked secure, and it almost—almost—fit like it used to.

“Voila! Perfect, just like I’m back in high school,” she said, twirling a little in front of the mirror.

The truth was, it was the only dress that made her feel remotely confident. She knew the wedding would be crawling with people in designer gowns, curated shoes, and jewelry that cost more than her entire bank account. This dress, at least, had history. It had survived that chaotic prom and years at the back of her closet.

She reached under the bed and pulled out a shoebox she hadn’t touched in ages. Inside were a pair of silver glitter heels—still pristine, never worn.

Sakura blinked. “Did I… even remember buying these?”

Back when she was still working at that soul-crushing corporate job, she used to stress-shop online—shoes, clothes, skincare she never used. Most of it was tacky. Looking at it now, she couldn’t tell if she had bad taste or if her mother’s style had rubbed off too much.

Still, the heels matched the dress, and she needed all the sparkle she could get today.

Sakura slipped them on, took one last look in the mirror, and gave herself a nod. “Not bad. Not perfect. But not bad.”

And with that, she grabbed her clutch, whispered a quick apology to Poppy for leaving her behind, and rushed out the door toward a wedding she wasn’t sure she was ready for—but definitely couldn’t miss.

....

Sakura clutched her purse tightly as the taxi she was in came to another slow, painful halt, buried in a long line of cars. Traffic in Tokyo was rarely this bad unless… well, unless Naruto had somehow invited half the country to his wedding. The thought made her snort, just slightly—a weak attempt at calming herself down.

The wedding was set to begin at 7:00 p.m. It was already 6:59.

She was officially going to be late.

Late, sweaty, and with makeup already smudging under the pressure of her own anxiety. Why did nerves always make her sweat like she’d run a marathon? She grabbed a tiny stick perfume from her purse and quickly dabbed it on the back of her neck, under her arms, and on the inside of her wrists, desperate to avoid smelling like a disaster at a rich people’s wedding.

“Um… excuse me,” Sakura leaned forward, tapping the driver’s seat gently. “Is the traffic going to take much longer?”

The middle-aged taxi driver—calm, polite, and unbothered—nodded slightly without turning. “Yes, I believe so, ma’am.”

Sakura sighed and leaned back in her seat, the tightness of her dress digging into her ribs. She couldn’t even take a full breath without feeling like the bodice would burst open. All she wanted was to rip the whole thing off, toss on a sports bra and some comfy shorts, and eat fries in peace.

The driver spoke again, this time a little more helpfully. “There’s a big truck ahead. Engine trouble, I think. They’re waiting for a tow to clear it.”

Of course. Of course it was a truck. A cursed, broken-down monster in the middle of the street ruining her already disastrous evening.

Her phone buzzed suddenly in her purse, startling her. When she saw the screen, her stomach twisted.

Mom.

“Oh no,” Sakura whispered. “Not now. Not her.”

She hesitated. Ignore it? That would only make things worse. If she didn’t answer, her mom would call again… and again… and again… like a woman possessed.

With a deep, reluctant breath, Sakura answered. “Hello?”

“Why do you sound nervous? Where are you right now?” her mother asked, instantly picking up on the tremble in her voice like she always did. No one could read her quite like her mom, even from a phone call.

Sakura swore under her breath. “Um, I’m… I’m on my way to a friend’s wedding.”

Damn it! Why was she always so honest? She should’ve said she was at the grocery store or something neutral. Now her mom was going to launch into her favourite topic: matchmaking.

“Oh, alright,” her mother said, voice softening. “I was just worried. You haven’t messaged or called for two whole weeks. I thought maybe something had happened.”

“I’m fine,” Sakura lied smoothly, though her stomach was doing flips and her savings account was gasping for air. “By the way, did Kurenai and her family already go home?”

“Yes, a week ago. Kurenai and her husband decided to quit their office jobs and start a bakery. They’ve been asking me for recipes. I told them your mom was the neighborhood’s cake queen, after all.”

Sakura blinked. Finally, something safe to talk about. No matchmaking. No joblessness. Just cake.

“Yeah, your cakes are always amazing,” Sakura said, trying to sound chipper. “Why didn’t you ever open a bakery of your own?”

“Well,” her mom chuckled, “running a bakery takes a lot of money. So I just stuck to selling at the elementary school canteen. Sometimes I’d send a few pastries over to Mrs. Anbu’s bakery too.”

“Oh, by the way, how’s Mirai doing? She must’ve been upset I couldn’t make it back home last time,” Sakura asked softly, guilt tugging at her voice.

Her mother let out a small sigh. “Yeah, she was a little sad, but she was thrilled when she got that viral Cupid plushie you sent her. That must’ve been expensive, huh?”

Sakura bit her lip. She didn’t have the heart to admit that one blind box cost her 3,960 yen—basically a whole day’s worth of food if she budgeted right. But what else could she do? She knew Mirai had been collecting those plushies for months now, and she secretly hoped the one she picked would be a character her niece didn’t already have.

It wasn’t much, but it was the least she could do to make up for missing family time.

Her mom casually shifted the conversation to the one topic that always sparked an argument between them. Her tone changed.

“Oh, Sakura—don’t get mad, okay? I didn’t force anything, really…”

Oh no. Sakura’s entire body tensed. Here we go.

“Here we go,” she muttered, glaring out the window.

“It’s just… Kurenai has a friend whose son lives in Tokyo too. He’s very handsome—he looks just like that Hong Kong actor I used to love…”

“Who? Tony Leung? You’ve got to be kidding,” Sakura laughed despite herself. Her mom’s references were always a little outdated, but somehow hilarious.

“Yes! Just like him!” her mom insisted. “Anyway, he said he’s curious to meet you. But I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so I just gave him your number. That’s okay, right?”

Sakura’s eyes widened in horror. “WHAT?! You did what?!”

“Calm down! I just gave it to Kurenai to pass along. And who knows if he’s even interested in you! Don’t flatter yourself!”

Sakura nearly exploded. “MOM. We’ve talked about this! Stop giving my number to strangers! I mean it!”

Before her mother could reply, she hung up with a frustrated tap and threw her phone into her purse. Her heart pounded, her face flushed. She had been on the verge of panic already, and now she was ready to punch the car window.

She didn’t even realize, in her flustered state, that a sleek black BMW had been idling right next to her taxi the entire time.

The man inside—sharp suit, midnight-black hair, unreadable expression—glanced at the flustered woman in the stuffy pink dress, not recognizing her through the tinted window and chaos.

Fifteen minutes later, the tow truck finally cleared the broken vehicle. Traffic began to flow again.

The BMW pulled ahead, smoothly merging into the next lane and disappearing into the distance.

Sakura slumped in her seat, sweaty and exhausted, completely unaware that the man secretly watching her was none other than Uchiha Sasuke.

....

Sakura stood frozen for a moment, staring in awe at the outdoor wedding venue that looked like something straight out of a fairy-tale. Every twinkling lantern and elegant white decoration had been carefully arranged to create an atmosphere that was equal parts luxurious, romantic, and ethereal. She couldn't help but wonder how much Naruto must've spent on all this. Honestly, she wanted a wedding this extravagant too—but that probably meant she’d have to marry someone rich.

Waitresses in black-and-white uniforms moved gracefully through the venue, balancing trays filled with white wine, caviar, intricately decorated cupcakes, rich meat-based entrees like beef and chicken, and glossy fruit-studded puddings. And that wasn't even all—some waitresses were still setting down more trays under the tent.

Sakura looked around, momentarily unsure of where the entrance was. Just then, a female waitress with her hair neatly twisted into a bun approached.

“Can I help you with anything, miss?” she asked politely.

Sakura blinked. “Ah, sorry—do you know where the entrance is?”

“Of course, this way.” The woman smiled and led Sakura toward a booth. “All guests are asked to check in here. You’ll scan the QR code from your invitation and sign the guest book. You can also collect your souvenir here.”

“Thank you,” Sakura replied, her nerves showing a little. As she glanced at the line of other guests, she couldn’t help but notice how stunningly elegant everyone looked in their designer outfits. It made her feel out of place.

"Maybe I should just go home," she thought, her insecurities creeping up.

“Don’t forget to show the QR code from your digital invitation,” the attendant added cheerfully. “It’s needed to collect your gift bag.”

“Right, thank you,” Sakura said again.

She took a deep breath. "Okay, okay. Chill. No one here knows you except Naruto and Hinata. You’ll be fine. Stay calm. Blend in."

But the moment she received her guest gift, her calm nearly shattered. Inside the box were four luxury jasmine-scented candles—Diptyque Baies, no less—a pair of custom wedding keychains that kissed when linked, mini bottles of Prosecco, a personalized wine cork, a monogrammed shot glass, and even a Louis Vuitton perfume.

"You’ve got to be kidding me. Louis Vuitton perfume—for one person?" she whispered in disbelief.

Everything was tucked neatly into a custom Prada mini crochet tote bag embroidered with each guest’s name. She stared at it, speechless. This gift bag alone could cover a year of her rent.

"Excuse me, could you step aside a bit?" asked an older woman behind her, gently tapping Sakura’s shoulder.

"Oh! I’m so sorry, ma’am," Sakura said quickly, bowing slightly and moving away from the booth.

She clutched the gift bag awkwardly. The atmosphere here was definitely old-money: refined, poised, and elegant. Not all rich people were showy and obnoxious, apparently.

Then a blond male waiter approached her. “Would you like me to deliver your souvenir bag to your driver?” he asked politely.

“Driver?” Sakura echoed, blinking. “Oh, uh… no. I don’t have a driver.” She bit her lip and looked down, embarrassed.

“In that case, would you like me to place it in the trunk of your vehicle? Just give me your license plate number. Our valet team will make sure it’s secure for you.”

She winced. “Actually... I was dropped off.” By a taxi, she added mentally.

“Not a problem. If it’s too much to carry, I’d be happy to hold onto it until you're ready to leave,” the waiter offered.

Were rich people really this pampered that even the staff had to offer help before being asked?

“Sure, that would be great. Thanks,” she said, handing over the bag.

With aching feet from her rarely-worn heels, Sakura made her way into the massive white tent. The setup inside was stunning—banquet tables, food stations, and a live acoustic stage arranged flawlessly beneath a transparent canopy that revealed a star-speckled night sky. It felt like walking into a palace. Luckily, the weather was clear; the universe seemed to be blessing Naruto and Hinata’s special night.

She scanned the room for her friends among the sea of well-dressed guests sipping cocktails and laughing in clusters. Not knowing anyone at a wedding could be both a blessing and a curse—a blessing because no one would surprise you with awkward small talk, and a curse because you’d feel completely invisible.

Then she felt a light tap on her shoulder.

“Hi, are you Sakura-san?” a familiar voice asked.

Sakura turned around, surprised. “Ino Yamanaka?”

Ino looked every bit the refined adult now, wearing a floral dress that hugged her sculpted figure perfectly. She smiled brightly.

“Wow, you still remember me. It’s been ages—since that interfaculty debate, right?”

Sakura’s eyes drifted to the pale man Ino was clinging to. He was handsome, but his complexion was a little too ghostly for her taste.

“This is my fiancé, Sai. He’s from London,” Ino announced proudly.

Sai extended his hand politely. Sakura shook it, hesitating just a bit.

“Nice to meet you,” he said with a smile.

“Nice to meet you too,” she replied, returning a hesitant smile.

“Sai used to do debate competitions too—back when he was at Stanford. You two should totally debate. Sakura’s amazing at coming up with sharp rebuttals,” Ino teased.

“I’d be up for it. A fiery debate would liven things up around here. Women do love to argue, don’t they?” Sai joked.

“Sai! I didn’t say you should pick a fight,” Ino laughed.

The two of them continued chatting like Sakura wasn’t even there. She smiled politely, feeling out of place.

Thankfully, another guest—a stylish woman with a silver dress and tiny flowered bun—came over and hugged Ino. “Hey, Ino! You look stunning. Slimmer than ever.”

“Ten-Ten! Oh my god, how have you been? Still busy running your business in Singapore?” Ino said cheerfully.

“Well, I just got back from Cappadocia last week. You have to go there sometime—it’s gorgeous.”

Rich people. Always talking about business and exotic vacations. Sakura couldn’t relate at all.

Quietly, she slipped away from them and grabbed a glass of champagne from a nearby waitress’s tray.

“Wow, this is amazing,” she murmured after taking a sip. “It must’ve cost a fortune.”

“Is that Sakura-chan?” a familiar voice called out.

Before she could even respond, a man in a white tuxedo pulled her into a bone-crushing hug that nearly knocked the breath out of her.

“N-Naruto—yeah, it’s me! Just—maybe not so tight,” she gasped, feeling like she was being squeezed by a python.

“What? Isn’t this how you hug people too?” Naruto laughed, giving her a few enthusiastic pats on the back. “God, I missed you, idiot.”

“Hinataaa!” Sakura exclaimed when she spotted the bride, absolutely glowing in a custom white Versace gown. “Oh my god! I leave for a few years and now you’re a literal angel?!”

This time, Sakura was the one doing the hugging—tight enough that Hinata let out a soft gasp.

“S-Sakura-chan,” Hinata stammered, caught off guard. “I-I missed you too.”

They hugged longer than either expected. Sakura couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this genuinely happy. Being with people who knew her before everything fell apart felt like coming home.

“You totally disappeared after graduation,” Naruto said, wrapping an arm around his wife. “We thought you’d forgotten about us.”

“Yeah… I’m sorry. Life just kind of went off-track,” Sakura admitted, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Hey,” Naruto said gently, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Whatever it is, you can always talk to us.”

“It’s nothing serious,” she replied with a shrug. “Just, you know… heartbreak stuff.”

Naruto’s mood darkened instantly. “Who the hell hurt you? Give me his name. I’ll rearrange his face.”

“Babe, please,” Hinata said gently, rubbing his chest in an attempt to calm him down. “Don’t cause a scene.”

Right then, a tall, sharply dressed man entered the tent behind the CEO of Newman and his security detail. He looked effortlessly refined in a custom navy Gucci tuxedo—the same cut, Sakura realized, as the one he wore to prom.

He politely nodded to the guests, then guided the CEO to his seat—already set with polished silverware, crystal glassware, and an untouched silk napkin.

The CEO leaned in to whisper something in his ear, and the man gave a small nod before turning and heading straight toward Sakura (or more accurately, he was actually heading to the buffet table behind her to grab a bottle of champagne).

Sakura blinked. That tuxedo. That sleek black hair, like it had just been styled with a Dyson Airwrap. That subtle, expensive cologne she couldn’t quite place but remembered somehow. And that jawline… the same one she thought she recognized in a stranger at Target a few days ago.

Uchiha Sasuke? At Target? No way. That had to be her imagination running wild again after all the dreams she’d been having lately.

“Yo! Dobe, you actually showed up!” Naruto yelled loudly, waving at him.

But Hinata immediately pinched his arm and whispered something into his ear, and Naruto visibly tensed.

“S-Sasuke-san,” he said instead, nodding stiffly.

“‘Sasuke-san?’” Sakura echoed under her breath. Why was Naruto suddenly being so formal? They’d all gone to high school together.

She turned and looked at Sasuke—still as ridiculously good-looking and cold as ever. His eyes were sharp, unreadable. Dangerous, almost. Like he could cut glass with just one glance.

Without realizing it, Sakura found herself staring. Her hands trembled slightly as her heart raced inside her chest.

Sasuke turned to look at her. No smile. But something flickered in his eyes—something complicated. Regret? Nostalgia? Longing?

He looked at her like someone staring at an old building full of memories—too meaningful to tear down, too painful to visit often.

He gave her a slight nod, then turned away, walking toward the CEO and pouring champagne into his glass. A moment later, he sat beside him, the two of them locked in quiet, serious conversation.

It was surreal. Sasuke might as well have been living in another world. Even Naruto seemed to lower himself around him, and Naruto came from money—real money.

But Sasuke… he’d always had this air about him. No matter how cold or difficult he was, he’d always stood above everyone else without even trying.

“Sakura! Hey!” Naruto waved a hand in front of her face, snapping her back to reality.

She startled, face flushing with embarrassment.

Naruto caught Hinata’s eye, and they exchanged a meaningful look—a silent message passed between them.

“Sakura, we’ve got to head back up to the podium,” Naruto said. “But whatever you do, don’t leave early. You’ll miss the performance by The Skins to Skins.”

Her jaw dropped. “Wait—The Skins to Skins? From the U.S.? Naruto, are you kidding me?! That’s my favourite jazz band!”

She practically bounced on her heels, gripping Naruto’s arms in excitement and shaking him like a fangirl at her first concert.

Hinata giggled softly. Sakura really hadn’t changed. Still passionate, still expressive, still full of life when she found something she loved.

....

Sakura hesitated, a flicker of nervousness crossing her face as she realized her VVIP seat was placed directly next to Sasuke’s—right beside the CEO's table. Their chairs were so close they might as well have been assigned to sit together. It felt deliberate, like someone had made a last-minute decision to stir the pot.

She took her seat carefully, avoiding eye contact. As the MC welcomed the newlyweds, the room erupted in warm applause. Sasuke and Sakura clapped along with the crowd, though Sasuke’s expression barely shifted. Across the room, Naruto and Hinata stood hand-in-hand, like they’d fall apart if they let go even for a second.

The MC invited Naruto to speak first. Behind him, a massive LCD screen lit up with a montage of childhood photos and home videos—snapshots of Naruto and Hinata growing up, surrounded by wealth, tradition, and affection. Two old-money families: the Uzumakis with their vineyards and beachfront estates, and the Hyuugas with their legacy of elegance and discipline.

It was all sunshine and laughter, until the screen faded to a quieter moment: old footage of Naruto at the beach with his dad, learning how to swim at Venice Beach. Then came another clip—his mom teaching him how to play drums in the garage of their sprawling home. The room fell silent.

Naruto tried to hold it together, but his tears slipped out before he could stop them.

Hinata leaned in and gently pressed a handkerchief into his palm, her grip on his hand tightening.

The band began a soft instrumental cover of “All My Life” by K-Ci & JoJo, filling the space with something warm and nostalgic. It wasn’t long before Sakura noticed Hinata’s parents dabbing at their eyes across the room.

And then—there he was. Kakashi. Naruto’s late father’s old aide. Sakura hadn’t seen him since high school, but he looked the same: aloof, calm, a little tired around the eyes. What was new was the woman sitting next to him.

“He actually got married?” Sakura muttered under her breath, raising a brow. “Thought he’d sworn off relationships for life.”

Back on stage, Naruto finally found his voice. He looked straight at Hinata, eyes glassy but full of quiet conviction.

“Hinata,” he said, “thank you. For being part of my life before I even knew who I was. For teaching me patience, for showing me what love looks like when it’s real, and steady, and selfless. For bringing color into my world when everything felt gray.”

He paused, then added softly, “Thank you for choosing me. For always choosing me. My missing rib… I’ve found it.”

Sakura grimaced a little, pressing her lips together.

Oh, come on. She cringed inwardly. Naruto had always been emotional, but hearing him say something that poetic felt off. It was like watching a dog wear shoes—cute, maybe, but not natural.

Out of instinct, her gaze drifted toward Sasuke.

He sat quietly, swirling the champagne in his glass, utterly unfazed. His expression was flat, unreadable—like he was watching a foreign film with no subtitles. Not even the music seemed to touch him.

Sakura exhaled slowly.

Sasuke hadn’t changed. Still distant. Still cold. Still impossible to reach.

And yet… here they were again. Side by side. So close she could hear the faint clink of the ice in his glass when he took a sip. Sharing the same air, the same silence.

Even after all this time… he still made her chest tighten.

Sakura rolled her eyes. God, how she wished she could slip out of this tent and head straight to her room—bra off, cuddled up with Poppy under the covers. Maybe I can fake a bathroom trip and just never come back, she thought.

But there was no way. The guests were still seated politely, and right beside her was none other than Mr. Sakamoto himself—CEO of Newman Enterprise and her potential future boss, if she managed to make it through the final round of recruitment. She couldn’t risk looking unprofessional, no matter how suffocating this whole thing felt.

Instead, she took another sip of her wine and clapped along hastily with the rest of the guests as Hinata stepped up to the mic.

"Naruto-kun," Hinata began, her voice trembling, "thank you for sharing both the joyful and painful moments with me. Even when I was just your friend, admiring you from afar… I already felt lucky. So when fate brought us together as husband and wife, it felt like a miracle. Thank you for choosing to walk through life with me—forever."

Tears shimmered in her eyes.

Sakura glanced toward Hinata’s parents at their table. Both of them were dabbing at their eyes with a handkerchief—the same one, apparently taking turns.

Sakura shifted uncomfortably in her chair and muttered under her breath, “Okay, how long is this soap opera going to drag on?”

She began tapping her feet beneath the table out of boredom—until the screen behind the couple lit up with old photos of Naruto and Hinata in high school. Firework festivals, water parks, concerts…

And then—ugh. There she was. Sakura, accidentally photobombing half of them. In one, she was mid-sneeze. In another, yawning. Another showed her sticking her tongue out and glaring like a demon.

She groaned inwardly just as she heard a stifled chuckle.

Her eyes darted to the source—Sasuke, trying to cover his mouth with his hand but clearly laughing.

“You bastard,” she muttered under her breath. You absolute usuratonkachi. “Did you do this on purpose, Naruto? Just wait—I’ll kill you later for putting these up.”

“And now,” the MC chimed in, “please enjoy the dinner, champagne, and live music. Feel free to request a song—anything you like!”

The music shifted from romantic to upbeat—first a jazzy cover of September by Earth, Wind & Fire, then Get Down Tonight by KC and The Sunshine.

As servers passed with trays of wine, Sakura grabbed another glass. Then another. Then a third. She wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to enjoy what was probably the most expensive alcohol she’d drink all year.

Naruto and Hinata danced on the center platform, joined by other guests. Sakura even spotted the older couple who’d been behind her in the souvenir line dancing with surprising rhythm.

Meanwhile, the Hyuuga family and Kakashi made their way to bid farewell to Mr. Sakamoto, CEO of Newman, who stood up to leave early. Sasuke stood as well, bowing respectfully to his boss before the CEO and his assistants exited the tent.

With the atmosphere now looser and the jazz more playful, Sakura—completely tipsy—felt the music taking over her body. The moment Get Down Tonight came on, she was on her feet, swaying and spinning with her wine glass still clutched in one hand.

“Do a little dance… make a little love… get down tonight,” she mumbled, half-singing along as her hips rolled to the beat like she was possessed by the rhythm itself.

It didn’t take long for Sakura to become the center of attention. She was the only guest not holding back—no pretense, no image control. Just full-out dancing like no one was watching.

At one point, she moved backward and nearly sat on Ino’s face. Ino slapped her butt in protest, laughing hysterically. Sakura spun around, eyes wide, and burst out laughing before grabbing Ino’s hand. The two of them danced together like wild girls out of a romcom.

Cameras turned toward them instantly. The photographers, drawn to the contrast of elegance and chaos, snapped shots of the two beautiful women—cinematic, vibrant, alive.

Ino, clearly buzzed herself, reached for Sai and pulled him into the dance floor. He looked hesitant at first, but his arms naturally wrapped around her waist as hers draped over his shoulders. They danced close… closer… and then kissed—right in the middle of the floor, surrounded by laughter and applause.

And Sakura? She just twirled, tipsy and laughing, completely unaware that a certain pair of dark eyes had been following her every move.

Sakura kept dancing, lost in the music, her cheeks flushed from the champagne. She grabbed another glass from a passing waiter, casually swapping it with her now-empty wine glass on his tray. The party was in full swing, the lights warm and golden, and the band kept the rhythm pulsing through the tent like a heartbeat.

She twirled again—too fast this time.

In her enthusiasm, she didn’t realize the tiny safety pin holding the back zipper of her dress had snapped. The fabric slipped just enough for her neckline to plunge dangerously low, the bodice threatening to expose more than it should.

Sakura froze, her breath hitching in panic as she reached behind her, trying to clutch the fabric together.

But before the situation could spiral into a full-blown wardrobe disaster, someone stepped in—again.

A tuxedo jacket, large and dark, suddenly draped over her shoulders. She turned and looked up, startled.

Sasuke.

He had slipped off his suit jacket and wrapped it around her without a word. The fabric swallowed her petite frame, but it did the job, shielding her exposed back and neckline.

Sakura stared at him, heart pounding wildly, as if it might jump straight out of her chest.

“Thanks,” she murmured softly, barely meeting his eyes.

Without waiting for a response, she turned and darted out of the tent, clutching the jacket tight around her as she searched for the nearest bathroom to fix her dress.

Sasuke stood still, watching her disappear into the night, a flicker of concern crossing his face.

Inside the restroom, a very tipsy Sakura stared at herself in the mirror, still not quite believing what had just happened. The designer suit jacket draped over her arms—was really Sasuke’s.

A sudden wave of anxiety hit her. Déjà vu.

She was wearing her old high school prom dress. Sasuke had been wearing a tuxedo eerily similar to the one from that cursed prom night. The only difference now was that they weren’t being pelted with paint or humiliated by their classmates—but still, here she was, mortified all over again. This time, it was her own dress failing her.

“Oh, boy,” she muttered, turning on the faucet and splashing cold water on her face. She hoped to sober up at least enough to fix her makeup. Fortunately, it hadn’t smudged much—her purse was still back at the table. She randomly thought of Hinata’s lipstick, which had long worn off after Naruto had devoured her lips more times than Sakura could count. She chuckled. Ah, the wild, unhinged absurdities of adult romance. Honestly, if they’d had sex right on the stage, no one would’ve even been surprised—it was their night.

“I should return this jacket before that bastard charges me for it,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Sakura washed her hands, dried them with the automatic dispenser, then straightened up and left the restroom, re-entering the now-livelier wedding tent.

Sasuke was still standing near his table, staring blankly at the dance floor as guests laughed and danced around him. He took a sip straight from a bottle of champagne, looking both bored and slightly drunk.

Sakura approached him with a slight wobble in her steps, holding the jacket out with a scowl. She refused to meet his eyes.

“Here. I’m giving this back. Thanks,” she said flatly.

But as she tried to hand it over, Sasuke caught hold of the sleeve and tugged—pulling her off balance and right into his arms.

The music shifted.

A slow jazz number began playing: “Paradise” by Sade.

Sakura froze, wide-eyed, as Sasuke held her close. Without looking at her, he tossed the jacket toward a confused waiter and began swaying to the music.

“Oh no, he’s drunk and he’s going to take revenge for prom by assaulting me,” panicked Sakura in her mind.

“I just need a dance partner,” Sasuke whispered in her ear, his voice calm and cold.

“There are plenty of other girls to dance with at this party. Gorgeous ones, too,” Sakura snapped.

Sasuke suddenly dipped her low in his arms, ballroom-style, with dramatic flair.

“But you’re the only one I know,” he said.

“Fuck,” Sakura muttered under her breath, cheeks flushing. But she couldn’t help herself—her body instinctively moved in sync with his, letting him twirl her gently.

“Honey, look at that!” Naruto called to Hinata, and the two newlyweds stopped dancing to gawk.

“Oh my, they’re disgustingly cute,” Hinata giggled, her hands over her mouth.

“I told you this would work out,” Naruto whispered with a wink.

“Don’t embarrass me again, you brat!” Sakura snapped at Sasuke as he leaned in too close, their noses practically touching.

“You’re the one who embarrasses yourself,” Sasuke smirked, spinning her out and pulling her back in, catching her again with ease. “Now, I’ll teach you to respect yourself.”

Naruto discreetly motioned to the photographers. “Make sure you’re getting this,” he said.

“Don’t you dare kiss me again, loser,” Sakura hissed, even though her heart ached for it.

“I will—if I want to,” Sasuke whispered back, holding her waist firmly.

“You don’t always get what you want, even if you’re absurdly powerful,” she retorted.

“You want me,” he said simply, self-assured.

“Don’t be so stubborn.”

Couple by couple, the other dancers began slowing and stopping—turning to watch Sasuke and Sakura, now the sole couple on the floor.

A spotlight suddenly fell on them, dramatically highlighting their movements.

At that exact moment, the full moon appeared directly above Sasuke.
The man from the past. The moon. The wedding.
Sakura suddenly remembered what the tarot reader had told her about fate.

Sasuke looked into her eyes. “I’ll take you home.”

“No! I can go by myself,” Sakura rejected him immediately.

“Please. Just let me,” he said, more gently this time.

“Why?” she asked, confused.

“I’m done lying to myself. After all these years. Because—”

Before he could finish, Sasuke leaned in and kissed her. Deep, soft, and unexpected.

Sakura didn’t pull away.

Applause suddenly erupted from the guests who had been watching them, breaking the kiss. They both jolted back, startled.

“And now, presenting the next couple to get married,” the MC joked, pointing to them with a laugh.

Both Sasuke and Sakura turned scarlet.

The night wrapped up with Hinata tossing her bouquet—a bunch of white dandelions. It flew toward Ino but landed perfectly into Sakura’s hands, though she hadn’t even tried to catch it.

Everyone cheered for Sakura—except herself, who did not look thrilled.

Then, as if the evening couldn’t get more surreal, a white horse-drawn carriage pulled up at the venue entrance.

“Whoa… it’s like a real-life fairy-tale,” Ino gasped.

Naruto helped Hinata into the carriage, then climbed in himself. They waved like royalty as the horses trotted off, the “Just Married” sign bouncing behind them, decorated with white roses and satin ribbons.

“Ugh, that idiot really blew money on that cheesy-ass carriage,” Sakura muttered, her mood already ruined by Sasuke’s kiss.

She glanced at the bouquet in her hand, tempted to toss it in the nearest trash can. Sure, she wanted to get married someday—but not to the guy who used to bully her in high school. Fate had a twisted sense of humor.

She looked around—Sasuke had disappeared.

Odd, considering just minutes ago she’d wanted him to vanish. Now his sudden absence made her uneasy.

Guests began leaving in groups, and before long, Sakura stood alone under the stars in the quiet garden.

That’s when a sleek black BMW pulled up.

Her heart skipped.

The window rolled down. Sasuke.

He whistled at her.

Sakura blinked. “What?”

He shook his head slightly, gesturing for her to get in.

“I told you I can get home on my own,” she said, folding her arms.

“You don’t believe I meant what I said earlier,” he teased with a smirk.

“Which part?” she snapped, narrowing her eyes.

“Come on. Just this once,” he said, voice soft.

Sakura hesitated. She hated being guilted into anything—but she hated being rude even more.

“Fine. But don’t be shocked when you see my apartment,” she grumbled, climbing into the passenger seat and buckling up.

Sasuke glanced at the bouquet still in her hands and quickly looked away when he caught her staring.

Without another word, he started the engine and drove them away from the wedding venue and onto the bustling road.

- To Be Continued -