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Chapter Text

Sakura fixed her skirt again before checking the time. Five more minutes, and if her date didn’t show up by then she would leave this fancy restaurant reserved for the two of them.

If she had her way, she wouldn’t be stuck here waiting for some guy, which Auntie Tsunade described as “someone who’s better than her first love”. But no, her godmother had insisted that she had to meet the guy.

She took a sip of her green tea and reached for the cherry blossom shaped wagashi, a limited edition dessert from a collaboration between the famed artisan Tami and The Hanamori, the five-star hotel and restaurant where she’s waiting for her date.

Sakura had always wanted to try Tami’s creations. The chef had recently opened her own place, but with her hospital schedule, she never had the time.

At least today gave her the chance.

She took a bite, letting the sweetness settle on her tongue. The flavor was delicate, with just a hint of something floral—that kind of reminds her of spring.

Her gaze drifted across the restaurant. Crystal chandeliers shimmered overhead, and the hushed conversations filled the space. Most tables were occupied by couples, who were wrapped up in their own little worlds.

Then, she glanced at the seat across from her that remains empty, still waiting for someone who will occupy it.

She took another bite, relishing the flavor of the sweet treat in front of her.

”It’s totally fine if he doesn’t show up,” she murmured. “At least I got to try this.”

As she finished what remains of the wagashi, she smiled, thinking that this was worth dressing up for.

Not the date. The sweets.

Sakura brushed a crumb from the edge of her plate and checked her watch again. Nearly an hour had passed since she arrived at restaurant and her date, a lawyer, according to Auntie Tsunade, hasn’t shown his face yet.

He could’ve given a notice that he’s not going to make it or just plainly say that he’s not interested going on a blind date with her instead of making her wait for forever.

Sakura grabbed her phone and texted her godmother that she’s going home and her date stood her up. ‘I can’t wait to tell her that her plan didn’t work again.’

Ever since she entered her twenties, Dr. Tsunade Senju, Sakura’s godmother, has been setting her up on a string of silly blind dates. Because years ago, she made a promise to Sakura’s mother that when the time came, she would make sure that her daughter wouldn’t end up alone and would marry into a good family.

With her role as the director of Konoha University Medical Center, Sakura has no idea how Dr. Senju even finds the time for schemes like this. Surely, the sheer scale of hospital operations should be enough to keep anyone busy. But no, Tsunade is dead set on keeping her promise.

She was just about to send the message when a familiar figure appeared, heading straight toward her.

‘Am I imagining things? Surely there’s no way that—‘

”Sorry I’m late. I had a meeting with a client on the other side of the city.” His voice hadn’t changed at all. It was still the same: deep and calm in a way that almost turned her into the foolish teenage girl who has been hopelessly infatuated with the most handsome boy in high school, the same naive girl who wished for that boy look at her, even just once.

Her lips parted, but no words came. What could she even say? Her first love was sitting right across from her—the boy who was too dazzling for the mortals like her in high school. The very same boy who had turned her away more times than she could remember.

And yet, after all these years, her heart still hadn’t learned.

She drew in a slow breath, forcing her fingers to unclench from the napkin she hadn’t realized she was wringing.

Deep inside, she was screaming. How could she not when Sasuke turned even more handsome than before. His jaw lines are now sharper and his eyes, the one she had always loved—she could stare at those dark pools all day and forget about everything.

But no, Sakura had to restrain herself.

Luckily, over the years she learned to carry herself with poise and confidence thanks to the etiquette lessons she suffered with Ino.

With practiced ease, she lifted her chin, smoothed her expression into a smile—the kind of smile reserved for a long lost friend, as she told herself to act normal.

But her heart was already betraying her when it was beating too loud and fast.

Really, Sasuke always made her heart race without noticing, without even trying.

”It’s been a long time, Sasuke-kun. How have you been?” Sakura straightened her posture, folding her hands neatly on her lap, smiling. She tried to sound casual, warm but not too warm. Like the same old her, as if seeing him again didn’t stir something inside her.

Sasuke glanced at her, just for a second, and gave her small nod. His expression was unreadable, nonchalant, and still distant. But his eyes lingered a moment too long before looking away.

”Busy,” he replied. “Work’s been nonstop.”

Sakura let out soft laugh. “You’ve always been that way, Sasuke-kun. You’d rather be working than talking to anyone.”

A faint twitch touched the corner of his lips. Not quite a smile, but close. And for Sasuke, that was practically a grin.

The tension in her chest loosened.

“And you?” he asked, his tone neutral. “What are you up to now?”

“I’m a resident at KUMC,” she said, carefully casual. “Third year.”

Sasuke looked at her then, fully this time. His gaze sharpened, just enough for her to notice.

”A doctor?” he asked, as if confirming something impossible.

“Not quite. Still earning the title, but yeah.” she answered, her smile softening. “I’m getting there.”

There was a beat of silence between them but it wasn’t uncomfortable, just unexpected.

He leaned back slightly on his seat, eyes still on her. “I didn’t know.”

“We haven’t really talked since graduation,” she reminded him gently. “A lot’s happened.”

’Sasuke-kun, I’ll see you at Konoha University, right? Our colleges are just right next to each other!”

She remembered how brightly she’d said that back then. She was naive, hopeful, and desperately clung to the idea that maybe, just maybe, being close in distance would bring them closer in heart.

But he never followed up. Never looked back.

The next thing she knew, Sasuke went to study pre-law in Otogakure—which was a thousand miles away from Konoha.

A thousand miles away from her.

He nodded, and for a second, his gaze flickered with something that struck her as regret…or perhaps a realization.

”You look…like you belong there.”

It wasn’t a grand compliment, but coming from him, it meant something.

Sakura looked down briefly, hiding the small smile tugging her lips.

”Thanks,” she said softly. “That means more than you think.”

For a moment, the air between them softened. It was no longer weighed down by unspoken history or awkward surprise.

Sasuke reached for the glass of water the waiter served now, then hesitated.

This blind date…” he said almost slowly, almost like testing the words. “You didn’t know either, did you?”

”Not a clue. I only said yes because Auntie wouldn’t stop nagging me about dying alone.”

Sasuke actually smiled this time. “Sounds like something my mom would say.”

They both chuckled, the tension easing further.

Sakura glanced at him, heart still a little too fast. “Well…I didn’t expect this.”

”Neither did I,” Sasuke admitted, “But it’s not bad.”

She met his eyes—steady, warm, and maybe…curious?

”No,” she agreed softly. “It’s not.”

They agreed to date with marriage in mind.

There were no grand confessions, no sweeping gestures. Just sincere, mutual intention.

Something stable. Something that made sense.

For Sasuke, it was practical.

His mother stopped nagging him, and his father, who was usually impossible to please, had expressed a rare nod of approval, now that his life’s trajectory seemed to be pointing toward a stable, respectable future.

For Sakura, it felt almost unreal. As if she was living in a fairytale where prince charming swept her off her feet once again.

Sometimes, she would catch herself watching him when he wasn’t looking. Memorizing the way his eyes drifted to the window, distant and thoughtful, as if his mind was somewhere else entirely.

He was kind, in his own way. 

Present.

Consistent.

He listened when she talked about long shifts and stubborn pediatric cases, and even the little ones who had somehow carved a space in her heart.

She always had a soft spot for children ever since, that’s why she never hesitated to support causes that advocate for early childhood care and development.

Sakura was about to clock out from work when she passed the nursery. A mother, dressed in a pink hospital gown, sat by the window, cradling her newborn. The infant was wrapped in a soft yellow blanket, its small fingers peeking out.

 ‘Someday, Sasuke-kun and I will have our own children.’ The thought came uninvited, but it stayed. Sakura felt her cheeks warm. It wasn’t as though they talked about it—not yet—but surely, their relationship would reach that point.

Eventually, they would have to do it. Like all normal couples do.

She pressed her lips together, trying not to dwell on it too much. It wasn’t something she could bring up out of nowhere. 

‘Maybe with Ino, I can definitely talk about these things…but not with Sasuke-kun.’  

Besides, Sasuke wasn’t actually the type to entertain soft, domestic daydreams…not out loud, at least.

Still, the thought of a home and a child with dark eyes and sharp stare like his, tugged at something deep inside her.

It was silly. Maybe a little too soon, it wasn’t even that long when they started seeing each other.

But it was a hope she held secretly in the depths of her heart. For now, she’s content that spring has come for her and Sasuke.

Back then, Sasuke would call her annoying all the time. But the Sasuke with her right now walks her home when she stays too late at the hospital, always matching her pace in silence.

And yet, there were moments when his touch felt hesitant. When his silences stretched just a little too long. When the space beside her felt full, but not always with her.

Sakura never asked.

She understood what it meant to carry feelings that could not be spoken out loud.

So she smiled, loved him gently, and accepted what he was willing to give. Even if, sometimes, she couldn’t shake the feeling that a part of him still belongs to something…or someone else.

Six months after they started dating, Sasuke felt that it was the right moment to proceed to the next step of their relationship. 

It wasn’t sudden, not really. The thought had been lingering for a while, and when the moment finally came, he was certain.

Still, he did it the proper way.

Sasuke planned a short trip to Redaku, a place far from the noise of Konoha, a tropical country that boasts of its unique tourists spots, such as its former observatory, now converted into a hotel.

They had spent the day exploring village paths, despite the heavy, humid air that clung to their skin. Redaku’s climate was warmer than Konoha’s this time of year, and the sun had been unrelenting. But Sakura did not mind, not with him by her side.

They wandered without much of a plan, stopping by open markets, sampling local food, and occasionally seeking shade in the city’s cafes. 

And now, as night fell and the heat gave way to a cooler breeze, he brought her to the Sage Lake. It was right beside the stationary camper van, converted into a room, that they booked for the night.

The water shimmered beneath the stars, as if the sky had dipped low just to touch it. 

According to the locals, the lake was formed a more than a thousand years ago when a meteorite fell into the earth—then, a few hundred years ago, an astronomical observation tower was built. However, it remained unused when the people of Redaku ousted their Prime Minister. 

Years later, noticing its potential for various tourism activities, King Nanara advocated for the restoration of the observatory. Businesses flourished in the area and it’s now famous as a glamping spot and a perfect place for stargazing.

Her boyfriend was left inside the van as he was organizing the things they need to start a bonfire and make s'mores. It had been a while, long enough for Sakura to start getting a little impatient and thought, ‘Honestly, this man and his OCD!’ She thought about checking in to offer help if he needs it.

But as just as she turned around, Sasuke was already making his way toward her. His face was unreadable, as if he was contemplating difficult life choices.

She was about to tease him about it when without a word, he dropped to one knee.

In his hand was an elegant silver ring, with a single ruby at its center. 

“Sakura,” he said, voice steady. “Marry me.”

For a moment, all she could do was stare.

The words, the gesture, the ring…it didn’t feel real.

And then it hit her. This was happening.

This was really happening.

Her heart swelled, and her eyes stung with the beginning of tears.

This is Sasuke-kun.

This is real.

He chose me.

Not—

They hadn’t been dating long when Sakura received an invitation for a class reunion, eight years since their time at Konoha High. 

It was organized by Naruto Uzumaki, Sasuke’s self-proclaimed best friend and possibly the loudest person alive. The message was filled with exclamation points, all-caps excitement, with an attachment of the invitation. 

Sakura had stared at Naruto’s email for a long time, her phone resting cold in her hand.

She wasn’t sure why her stomach twisted at the thought. Maybe it was the weight of the past, the awkward memories, and the younger version of herself who had once chased after Sasuke with her heart too wide open.

And now, she was dating him. 

Living a version of a dream she used to think was out of reach. Sometimes it felt strange—how something once one-sided had slowly turned into something real. They shared late-night walks after her shifts, when the streets of Konoha were still and it felt like the world had folded in just for them. 

They had been to almost every cafe in town, a hobby they both seem to enjoy.

He’d sit across from her with his laptop open, reviewing case files with that familiar furrow of concentration on his brow. She’d sip her drink slowly, half distracted by the medical journals she takes during their cafe dates. But more often than not, she found herself stealing glances at him.

She hadn’t told many people that she’s dating Sasuke. Just Ino, who said she was happy for her—her voice sounded a little hesitant on the phone when she found out—and Auntie Tsunade, who had taken the news in the stride with a smug “Finally.”

Sakura hadn’t told him about the reunion yet. 

Not because she wanted to hide it, but because some part of her was afraid. Afraid that the ghosts of their teenage years might reappear. That something…or rather someone might pull him back to a version of himself she could never reach.

It was silly, she knew that. Sasuke wasn’t the type to entertain sentimentality. He rarely even mentioned high school

And yet…

She kept the invitation to herself. For now.

In the end, she told him.

It was one those Saturdays she doesn’t have to report to work. They were on a cafe date that afternoon, tucked into a corner booth at one of their usual spots where the music was soft and the coffee always tasted like comfort.

Sakura got her usual, an iced latte with a sugar raised donut. Across from her, Sasuke opted for his staple: hot black coffee, no sugar, just the way he always liked it. He was reading something on his phone, his other hand wrapped around his coffee.

The smell of freshly baked pastries lingered in the air, and outside, the light rain had just begun to fall, dotting the windows with tiny streaks.

She looked at him, then down at her own hands. Took a breath.

“There’s a reunion next week,” she said, “From high school. Naruto’s organizing it.”

He looked up. One brow lifted. “You’re going?”

Sasuke read Naruto’s email but decided not to go. He doesn’t have the time right now, especially when he’s got his plate full with election-related things on top of his private practice. Itachi is running for a seat in Konoha’s council, alongside Minato Namikaze, the progressive candidate backed by the Sarutobi clan, making him the anointed successor of Hiruzen Sarutobi. 

“I haven’t decided,” Sakura replied quickly. “I got the invitation a while ago, but…I didn’t know if I should go. Or if you’d want to.”

Sasuke set his phone down, his gaze steady now. “You want me to come with you?”

Sakura hesitated. “Only if you want to. I just thought…it might be nice to see everyone again. Or weird. I don’t know.”

A pause stretched between them. Then he nodded once. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Sakura beamed, something in her chest loosened. Maybe it wouldn’t be strange after all. Not with him beside her.

A week later, they stood outside The Hanamori’s event hall. The muffled sound of music and laughter spilled out into the warm evening air through the slightly opened double wooden doors.

Sakura tugged lightly at the hem of her dress. She had done her cherry blossom colored hair in soft waves and worn a burgundy cocktail dress paired with a gold necklace with a constellation pendant.

Her look was simple, yet elegant. Still, she felt nerves creeping in. The kind that came with seeing old faces and remembering old versions of yourself.

She was about to take a breath, maybe even talk herself into a walking through a door, when she felt it.

Sasuke’s hand, reaching for hers.

Sakura looked up, startled, and found her boyfriend watching her. His expression was calm, but something in his gaze was unmistakably gentle.

“You look beautiful.” He said as he looked away.

Sakura blinked, her eyes stinging unexpectedly. While her cheeks turned slightly flushed as she curled her fingers around his.

And together, hand in hand, they stepped inside.

The event hall was softly lit, buzzing with the noise of old friends catching up, the clinking of glasses, and the upbeat music of their teenage years playing in the background. As she scanned the hall, Sakura saw familiar faces: TenTen and Hinata who she hadn’t seen since graduation, they were seated with Ino near the stage.

And then—

“Oi! What the hell—Sasuke?! Since when are you dating Sakura-chan?” Naruto’s voice cut through the soft music and idle chatter. Loud, as always.

Heads turned. Several classmates who had been sipping drinks or huddled in their own conversations paused mid-laugh. A few eyebrows shot up. Someone whispered, Sakura recognized her as one of Sasuke’s fangirls, whispered something that made her friend gasp.

Sasuke didn’t even flinch.

“It just happened,” he answered, as calm as ever.

But Sakura felt the heat rise to her cheeks as every gaze in the room anchored on her. She could feel them trying to fit the pieces together—trying to make sense of her standing beside him.

Then her eyes found Ino’s.

Her best friend didn’t say anything, but the look on her face said it all. Are you sure? About him? About this?

Especially when—

“Sakura-chan! It’s been a long time.” 

A voice that made her spine rigid.

Izumi-senpai.

Sakura’s breath caught. Her fingers tightened slightly around Sasuke’s.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him.

He turned, slowly to face her. His expression was nonchalant, but there was a flicker. Something that made Sakura’s chest clench before she could stop herself.

Recognition, of course. Fondness? Maybe. Pain? She couldn’t be sure.

Sasuke didn’t pull his hand away. But he didn’t speak either.

And in that silence, the air between them grew heavy.

Sakura forced a smile, polite and thin.

“Izumi-senpai. You look well.”

Even as her stomach twisted. Even as her heart beat out a warning she didn’t want to hear.

Izumi smiled, the kind of smile that came easily to her. Warm, radiant, and the kind that made people feel at ease. 

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” she said, stepping closer toward Sakura, arms open for a friendly embrace. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman.”

Sakura allowed herself to be hugged, even if her body felt stiff, her heart still on high alert.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

Izumi pulled away, her gaze flicking to Sasuke, then back to Sakura, eyes glinting with something like amusement. “And this,” she teased lightly, “I didn’t see this coming. You and Sasuke?” She tilted her head, not accusatory, just surprised.

Sasuke gave a slow nod. “We’re together,” he said simply.

Sakura felt his fingers twitch slightly in hers.

Izumi blinked once, then laughed. “Well, I’m happy for you both. Really.” She looked sincere. Too sincere, which somehow made Sakura feel worse. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you with someone, Sasuke. My husband will be shocked.”

Her husband.

Itachi.

The reminder landed in a stone in Sakura’s stomach, though it shouldn’t have. Of course she knew that. Everyone did. But hearing it said out loud, in Izumi’s soft voice…it pressed a bruise she couldn’t explain away.

Izumi turned back to her. “I hope we get to catch up tonight. Maybe later by the bar?”

“Of course,” Sakura replied, managing a steadier tone this time.

And just like that, Izumi gave them both a final smile, then glided toward another group of guests, her long hair catching the low golden light of the chandeliers.

She didn’t look at Sasuke right away.

Because if she did, she was afraid she might see something…anything that would validate the awful doubt curled inside her chest.

Instead, she lifted their joined hands with a gentle squeeze. “Let’s find our table?”

He gave a soft nod and followed her.

But even as they walked deeper into the hall, even as she smiled and greeted familiar faces, the weight of the unspoken settled between them.

Like a shadow.

Waiting.

They were halfway through polite greetings and nostalgic small talk when Sakura felt a shift in the room’s energy. It wasn’t loud or sudden, but enough to catch her attention. Like how the air feels different just before it rains.

She turned, instinctively.

Itachi Uchiha had arrived.

Tall, composed, and still carrying the same calm gravity he always had, even in high school. Dressed in a sharp black suit, he moved with the same confidence as his younger brother, but where Sasuke was precision, Itachi was elegant ease.

Izumi was the first to reach him. She touched his arm lightly, whispered something in his ear. He smiled, the faint curve of his lips barely visible from where Sakura stood. A real smile.

Sakura watched them from the corner of her eye, and felt Sasuke stiffen beside her.

Just barely. A fraction of movement. If she wasn’t holding his hand, she might have missed it.

He didn’t look away. Didn’t flinch. But there was something that she couldn’t make out in the way he watched his brother and his sister-in-law. Something he had buried deep, like an old scar that still stung in the cold.

Sakura didn’t say anything. What could she say?

Instead, she squeezed his hand again. Gently. Like an anchor.

Sasuke blinked, as if remembering she was still beside him. Then he turned to her.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

He didn’t answer right way. “Yeah,” he said at last. Not cold, not dismissive…just tired.

Sakura offered a small smile. “Come on, I think Choji’s heading to the buffet again. We should grab something before he eats everything.”

It was an attempt to break the mood, and to her surprise, it worked.

Sasuke exhaled through his nose—a ghost of a laugh.

They walked together, and she leaned into his side just a little. Not enough for anyone to notice. Just enough for him to feel that she was there.

Even when the room seemed to full of things left unsaid.

Even when ghosts from the past were now flesh and blood, standing just across the room.

It was the middle of December when Sasuke brought Sakura to his law firm’s year-end party. Snow had started to fall outside the hotel, dusting the streets in white as city lights glowed against the frost-covered windows. Inside, everything was warm and polished. Soft jazz playing in the background, waiters balancing flutes of champagne, and lawyers mingling in tailored suits and cocktail dresses.

For the first time in his two-years in the law firm, Sasuke arrived at the event not just with a date, but with his fiancee.

Sakura stood beside him, radiant in an olive green halter neck dress with a slit reaching her mid thigh, her engagement ring catching the light as she held onto his arm. She looked calm, poised, but there was a soft pink on her cheeks that deepened every time someone turned to glance at them. 

It was his cousin, Shisui, one of the firm’s partners, who noticed them first. He grinned, eyes flicking from Sasuke to Sakura’s ring.

“Well, well,” he said, raising his glass. “Looks like our youngest is officially off the market.”

Sakura laughed lightly, while Sasuke only replied with “Hn,” and the faintest shift in his expression, something halfway between exasperation and smugness.

Shisui chuckled. “You’d think he just signed a merger contract and not proposed marriage.”

“He was just as calm when he passed the bar,” Shikamaru Nara, a former classmate, added. Sasuke mentioned to her in passing that he’s working with Shikamaru, who specializes in corporate law, even if it’s too “troublesome”.

Sakura smiled through the teasing, her fingers brushing Sasuke’s. He did not say much, but his presence beside her was firm, unshaken. As if this was exactly where he wanted her into this world, this space, was his own way of saying: This is real. This is mine.

The laughter between them was easy, the champagne was sweet. Sakura excused herself to grab a bite from the hors d’oeuvres table, returning just as Shisui leaned in a little toward Sasuke, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“You know,” he said loud enough for Sakura to catch as she approached, “I honestly thought that this day would never come…I mean, we all thought that you’re never going to stop pining for Izumi,”

The comment dropped like a pebble in still water.

Sakura’s smile faltered, just for a second. She blinked, then forced a polite, almost amused expression, like she hadn’t heard anything at all.

Sasuke did not say anything right away. His expression barely shifted, but Sakura felt it. A moment of stillness in him that wasn’t there a second ago. Not embarrassment. Not denial.

Just silence.

Shisui laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “But hey, life happens right? Izumi’s married to Itachi now. Guess some things really are off-limits.”

The air between them tightened, even in the hum of laughter and music.

Sakura, ever composed, said “Some things work out better than expected, right?” Her voice was calm, perfectly measured.

Sasuke’s hand gently found hers, a small grounding squeeze. But he still hadn’t said anything. Not even to correct Shisui. Not even to deny it.

And that…

That said enough.

Sakura stayed just long enough for the laughter to shift to a new conversation, just long enough to pretend the words hadn’t lodged themselves somewhere deep in her chest.

Then she excused herself. “I’ll go to the restroom for a bit.”

She didn’t wait for Sasuke’s response.

Inside the ladies’ room, the silence was jarring. The sound of water trickling from a leaky faucet, the dull hum of musing through the walls. She stared at herself in the mirror for a long moment, breath steady but shallow.

It was fine. Everything was fine.

But the echo of Shisui’s words—“We all thought Sasuke would never stop pining for Izumi”—looped like a reticent mocking refrain in her head. And what was worse than hearing it…was that Sasuke hand’t said anything to refute it.

When she returned to him, her smile was still there, barely.

He glanced at her, almost as if he sensed something had shifted. “You okay?”

“There’s an emergency at the hospital,” she said, her voice softer this time, calmer. “They need me.”

He straightened. “I’ll take you.”

“No need,” she interrupted, already pulling her phone out of her clutch. “I’ll book a ride, just enjoy the rest of the evening with your colleagues.”

“Sakura—“

“I’ll call you when I get there.”

He didn’t press further.

She kissed his cheek lightly, like a routine. But it felt hollow. Too rehearsed.

Then she left.

Sakura never called Sasuke.

Not that night. Not the next day. Not even after three.

Sasuke’s name lit up her screen once. Twice. She let both ring out. Messages went unread.

Instead, Sakura set curled up in a bar booth with Ino, nursing her second glass of beer.

“He didn’t even deny it,” Sakura muttered, half to herself. “Not a word.”

Ino sighed. “Maybe he didn’t think he had to.”

“Maybe,” Sakura murmured, eyes fixed on nothing. “Or maybe he didn’t want to.”

She took a long sip, letting the the taste of the sake settle on her tongue.

“I don’t want to be the girl who loves him more than he loves me,” she added. “But what can I do? I really love Sasuke-kun, Ino.” What started as a school girl’s infatuation has blossomed into something deep, something that’s more than liking what’s on the surface. It wasn’t just about how he looked or how cool he was. It was everything.

And for the rest of the night, she didn’t check her phone. Not even once.

By the time Sakura was on her fourth drink, her words had started to slur, and she was laughing too hard at something that wasn’t even funny.

“Forehead,” Ino said cautiously, placing a steadying hand on her friend’s arm. “I think that’s enough.”

But Sakura only blinked, then grinned with flushed cheeks. “Did you know he gave me his mother’s ring? That’s…romantic, right?” she hiccuped. “Or practical.”

Ino sighed, her expression softening with concern as she watched Sakura sway against the booth. She glanced the time. It was nearly midnight.

“I’m calling him,” she muttered, taking Sakura’s phone from her sling bag.

Sakura’s head lolled back against the cushioned seat. “Nooooo… Don’t. Don’t—call him. He doesn’t need me the way I…the way I need—“ Her voice cracked and trailed off.

Ino stepped away from the table and dialed anyway.

Sasuke arrived less than twenty minutes later. He was wearing a pair of sweat pants and a faded Otogakure University t-shirt with a jacket over it. He spotted them immediately—Sakura barely upright in the booth, her cheeks flushed, eyes glazed over.

Ino stood up when he approached, crossing arms as he neared.

“She’s a mess,” Ino said plainly. “And before you say anything, yes, I let her drink, and no, I don’t regret it. She needed this.”

Sasuke didn’t respond. His jaw was tight, but his eyes were only focused on Sakura.

Ino stepped slightly in his path. “You hurt her. Whether you meant to or not.”

Sasuke met her gaze for a beat. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, well,” Ino said sharply. “Intent doesn’t mean much when she’s crying into her alcohol.”

He glanced away, toward Sakura again. “I’ll take her home.”

“Good,” Ino said. “But don’t pretend nothing’s wrong. She’s not the type to drink herself sick over something small.”

Sasuke did not say a word.

“Sakura,” he said quietly. “Let’s go.”

She blinked at him slowly. “Sasuke-kun?”

“I’m here.”

And she reached for him, blindly leaning into his shoulder as he helped her up.

Ino watched them leave in silence—Sakura half-asleep, wrapped in the arms of a man who might love her, but maybe not in the way she deserved.

Outside the bar, the cold bit into Sakura’s skin like tiny needles. She wobbled slightly in her platform sneakers, arms wrapped around herself in a flimsy cardigan that did nothing against the winter air. 

Without a word, Sasuke slipped off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. His movements were brisk, efficient, almost impersonal, but the fabric was warm, and it smelled like him.

Sakura blinked up at him, bleary-eyed. “You’ll freeze.”

“I’ll live,” he said shortly, guiding her gently toward the car.

She didn’t resist. Not when he opened the door for her, not when he leaned over to buckle her seatbelt like she was made of glass. His face was unreadable as always, but the way he lingered for just a second, his fingers brushing against hers, sent a strange twist to her chest.

The silence inside the car stretched long and cold, much like the streets they passed.

Sakura barely registered the motion of the car as it glided through the snow-dusted roads. Her head lolled against the passenger seat, his jacket wrapped around her small frame like a makeshift blanket. It smelled faintly of his cologne and something else, coffee, maybe, or the scent of the winter itself.

She stirred when the car slowed down, blinking as the headlights cut across the familiar front of his apartment building.

“This…isn’t my place,” she slurred softly.

“You’re not going home like that,” Sasuke said, his voice was low and firm.

He didn’t explain further. He never did, with his limited vocabulary.

When he opened the door, Sakura tried to stand but stumbled a little. Without a word, Sasuke reached for her. One arm around her shoulder, the other bracing her waist.

Inside his apartment, he helped her to his bed. It was warm, dimly lit, and clean like always. He tugged off her shoes, set them neatly on the floor, and returned with a glass of water and a small towel. 

She blinked at him blearily from under his jacket, hair mussed and cheeks flushed pink.

“You’ll get sick,” he said, handing her the water.

“Do you—“ she started, slurring just a little, “Do you really want to marry me, Sasuke-kun?” She wanted to ask, Do you love me, Sasuke-kun? Or are you still in love with Izumi-senpai? But couldn’t bring herself to do so, when her thoughts right now are not as coherent as she wanted them to be.

Sasuke looked at her for a long moment.

He crouched down and helped her out of his jacket, setting it aside. She didn’t protest when he draped a soft blanket over her instead. As he stood, she reached out and grabbed his wrist, fingers curled loosely.

“I’m serious,” she whispered. “You don’t have to—“

“You talk too much when you’re drunk,” he said, cutting her off, but his voice was lower than usual. Gentler.

Her hand slid down to his fingers. He didn’t pull away.

A moment passed like that, then another, before he finally sat on the floor beside the bed, leaning back against it. Close, but not touching.

The heater whirred softly in the background. Snow kept falling outside.

And though he said nothing more, Sakura knew.

She finally understood that in his presence, in the steadiness of his breath next to her, that his answer was yes.

The new year had just begun, and Sakura was bundled into a soft wool coat, a gift from Sasuke, which was left on her doorstep. No card, just a folded note tucked in the pocket: “Wear this.”

Sakura could not help herself but smile whenever she thinks of her fiancé and his little ways.

Today, she found herself squished between Mikoto, her soon-to-be mother-in-law, and her best friend, Ino, who was very chatty than usual, at the backseat of the car, driven by the Uchiha family’s driver, Aoda.

The windows fogged with every breath as the city outside was still trapped in the chill of winter.

They were on their way to Kurenai’s atelier—Konoha’s best bridal couturier, according to Ino.

“Auntie Tsunade wanted to come, but she’s stuck in a medical conference,” Sakura explained, sipping hot tea from a tumbler Mikoto had packed.

“Too bad,” Ino sighed dramatically. “She would’ve kept Ms. Kurenai on her toes.”

The atelier was warm and and well lit, as if it’s ready for the filming of a same-day edit video. Sakura’s eyes widened at the racks of gowns—lace, tulle, satin, all arranged inside the bridal salon.

The first dress was too tacky with all the puffs and laces—she looked like a layered cake ready for display! The second one had too many beads. But the third—

Sakura stepped out of the fitting room slowly, her hands brushing down the smooth fabric as if to steady herself. The dress hugged just right—it was modest, elegant, and has grace that suited her more than she expected. The satin caught the light as she walked, the simple train trailing behind smoothly.

In front of her, Ino frozed mid-sentence, her eyes going wide. Beside her, Mikoto let out a gasp, one hand raising to her chest.

Sakura gave a nervous smile. “Well?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ino blinked, then grinned. “Forehead, you look like you walked out of a dream.”

Mikoto’s eyes shimmered as she stepped closer. “Sasuke’s going to lose his breath,” she said gently. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect, my dear.”

Sakura laughed softly, the tension easing from her shoulders. For the first time since she started planning this wedding, she could picture the moment clearly.

Standing at the end of the aisle, with this dress and Sasuke waiting for her at the altar.

As she looked at her reflection, Sakura realized this was the part of the fairytale that felt real.

Before she started seeing Sasuke, it was rare for Dr. Haruno to go on a vacation. Her days were typically spent within the sterile, fluorescent-lit walls of the hospital, assisting Dr. Senju and Dr. Shizune in ongoing research. While others had beach photos and travel stories, Sakura had patient charts, case presentations, and clinical trials.

It was Sasuke who had suggested to take a few days off from work and planning their wedding so they could hit the beach. Sakura had blinked in surprise at first, unsure if he was serious.

Their wedding may be happening in December, but Sasuke can’t be serious about playing hooky when they have a lot of things to do and invitation designs to approve.

But he was dead serious.

His family owned a beach house in Kaminari no Kuni, nestled in a place away from the usual tourist spots. The place was secluded and quiet, and far from the noise of the city.

”I figured we both could use the break,” he said simply, as though offering her something as casual as a cup of tea.

And she did need it. The hospital had been relentless lately, with long shifts emotionally heavy cases, plus planning a wedding had been taking a toll on her lately she barely had enough to sleep.

Still, the fact that Sasuke had noticed, had thought of her comfort in such a concrete way made something warm unfurl in her chest.

The beach house sat on a gentle slope, framed by tall palm trees and wild bougainvillea. It was simple, airy, and smelled faintly of sea salt and old wood.

Sakura fell in love with it instantly.

While Sasuke unpacked their things in the other room, she wandered a bit, taking in the charm of the place. A few framed photographs sat on the rustic shelf in the living room, faded slightly by the years but still intact. There was a wedding portrait of Sasuke’s parents, a grainy candid of Itachi holding a tiny toddler (undoubtedly Sasuke) by the hand at the beach, and then—

A picture of three teenagers, arms around each other, their faces alight with joy.

It was a picture of Sasuke, Itachi-senpai, and Izumi-senpai.

The familiarity of it made her still. They looked so happy, sun-kissed, and carefree, caught in a simpler time. Izumi stood in between the two boys, her grin wide, hair tied back with a ribbon. Sasuke looked no older than thirteen. He was smiling too. That rare, open kind of smile he didn’t wear anymore.

Sakura’s fingers hovered just above the frame but did not touch it. She didn’t need to. The image was already branded in her memory.

She told herself it meant nothing. Of course there would be old photos like this, after all, Izumi-senpai had been part of the Uchiha family for as long as she could remember. There was no reason for her heart to feel oddly tight.

No reason at all.

Still, when she heard Sasuke’s footsteps nearing, she turned away from the shelf and busied herself with opening the balcony door.

The sea breeze greeted her instantly.

She stepped outside, letting the gentle breeze carry all her thoughts away.

The morning light streamed softly through the gauzy curtains, casting a golden hue over the wooden floors of the house. The scent of salt air drifted in the air, mingling with rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Sakura padded into the kitchen, bare legged and comfortably drowning in one of Sasuke’s oversized shirts. It smelled so much like him—clean and sharp. Her skin still bore the evidence of the night before, a trail of hickeys along her neck and collarbone that bloomed like delicate bruises. 

‘How am I supposed to wear the bikini I bought for this trip?’

Across the small kitchen, Sasuke stood by the counter, pouring hot coffee into two mugs. His expression was unreadable as always, but the slight lift of his brow when he glanced at her barefoot, hair tousled, positively glowing, said enough.

“You look smug,” she teased, voice still hoarse from sleep.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he replied coolly, setting a mug in front of her. “And you’re the one walking around like that.”

She took the mug with both hands, cheeks warm not just from the coffee. “You didn’t seem to mind last night.”

Sasuke didn’t answer, but the way he leaned over and pressed a kiss beneath her ear—where another mark already bloomed—made her giggle.

She didn’t think mornings could feel this light. This full.

On their third day, they ventured on the beach just before the late afternoon. Sakura opted to wear a windbreaker over her bikini because someone thought that it was a good idea to leave marks all over her body.

When he took her hand again, Sakura smiled without looking at him.

At one point, she stopped. “Hold still,” she murmured.

Sasuke turned slightly toward her, curious, but she didn’t aim the camera at his face. Instead, she pointed her phone downward and snapped a picture of their joined hands against the backdrop of the sand and foam.

“Not showing my face?” he asked dryly, but there was a faint, amused glint in his eyes.

Sakura shook her head. “No, just this part’s enough for me.” 

Sasuke didn’t respond, but he didn’t let go of her hand either.

Later, they sat on a beach blanket under a wide parasol, watching the sun begin to dip into the horizon. The sky turned shades of tangerine and rose. 

Sakura leaned her head against his shoulder, her hair brushing his collarbone.

And for a moment, she allowed herself to believe that this was the kind of peace she could have.

March was almost over, and spring in Konoha was in full bloom. 

Birthday greetings flooded Sakura’s social media account, mostly from friends and colleagues. 

Her head throbbed lightly from the hangover. Last night, Tsunade and Shizune insisted on throwing her a small celebration to mark her 24th birthday.

And because she’s one of the most promising residents in her batch, even her usually aloof and eccentric superior, Dr. Sasori, made an appearance at the popular barbecue place they had reserved for the night.

He said he came for the free food and cannot resist a good meat. But Sakura doesn’t care at all, because all she could think that night was the surprise waiting for her at The Hanamori—the same place where she and Sasuke had their blind date.

Still feeling a little groggy, Sakura pulled herself together and took a long, wam bath. After that, she was heading to the salon for some “mother and daughter” bonding time with Mikoto, even if she and Sasuke weren’t officially married yet.

The salon was tucked along the street where posh people of Konoha gather upstate. It’s the kind of place where high-profile clients, including celebrities, could relax without being fussed over.

With the local elections just looming around the corner, Mikoto would like to enjoy the day without being photographed by stringers and ambushed by any political camps just because her eldest son is running for a council seat.

The Uchiha matriarch was already seated when Sakura arrived, sipping her tea and leafing through the latest issue of Konoha Tattler. She looked up with a gentle smile and said, “Happy Birthday, Sakura-chan.”

“Dear, you look pale! Are you taking care of yourself properly?” Mikoto said, brows furrowed. The concept of a worried mother feels foreign to Sakura as she was raised entirely by Tsunade who was busy running a hospital, with barely enough time to act as a parent.

The way Mikoto looks right now reminds her of her mother, whose fiery temper rivaled Tsunade's.

Sakura laughed under her breath and settled to a chair next to her, “I think I had a little too much alcohol last night, Mikoto-san.”

“Please, call me Mother.” Mikoto said gently, closing the magazine and setting it down on the coffee table.

A stylist approached and began arranging Sakura’s hair into sections, asking if she wanted to change her hairstyle. She glanced at Mikoto, who was studying her with amusement.

“I want to look nice today,” Sakura said, brushing a lock behind her hear, “but please keep the length. Just a trim to get rid of the split ends.” She’s been growing her hair lately to achieve the style she’s going for on the wedding…now only three months away.

“Special plans?” Mikoto asked, though her tone was far too innocent.

Sakura only smiled and sipped the jasmine tea that had been placed in front of her. She didn’t answer, but she knew Mikoto had already guessed.

A table was reserved for her and Sasuke at Mizuya, The Hanamori Hotel’s restaurant. According to her fiancé’s instructions, dinner would be served at 7:00 pm—which are all Sakura’s favorites.

But now it was already past 8:00.

The wine in her glass had long gone warm, and the candle between the twin place settings had melted low.

Still, there’s no sign of him. Not even a call or a message.

‘Maybe he’s stuck in traffic…or something? Sakura tried to reason with herself, fingers tightening around the stem of her glass. A dozen scenarios started to spiral in her mind.

Had he forgotten? Was he called into an emergency meeting? Did something happen?

But no. Sasuke has always been consistent. He always shows up no matter what.

In the end, Sasuke never showed up.

By 10:00 pm, an apologetic restaurant staff approached her and informed her that they would be closing in a few minutes.

Sakura gave a small nod, forcing her smile as she reached for her bag. 

Her dinner was left untouched, while the candles had burned down to nothing, the table now cold and empty, save for the single place setting that had remained unused all night.

She stood, wrapped tweed jacket around her shoulders, and left.

Later that night, Sakura found herself in a convenience store five minutes away from her apartment complex—still dolled up—chugging her last can of beer while scrolling mindlessly on her phone, checking if she had replied to all birthday greetings posted on her social media wall.

...And thinking of reasons how and why Sasuke stood her up.

He was so organized, even their dates were scheduled—color coded, no less—on his calendar app. Sakura had seen it herself, tucked between meetings with the campaign team and court appearances, as if she were another line item in his carefully ordered life.

How could he not show up for a dinner date that he planned? For her birthday, no less!

A call or even a message would have sufficed, she would’ve understood why he couldn’t come. He was probably buried under meetings or thrown into last-minute emergency in the campaign. After all, he was out there supporting a good cause for the city.

After scrolling through the birthday messages she had yet to open, Sakura tapped on Sasuke’s profile—not because I’m stalking him, she told herself, but just to check..maybe he posted something. Or maybe there was a clue or anything that would make her understand why he didn’t show up.

But before she could even finish that though, she saw it.

Izumi’s post. Three hours ago.

It was a picture from the Namikaze party’s community kitchen launch. She was standing next to Sasuke—who was in his usual black long sleeves, which he rolled up—alongside Itachi and Shisui. All of them looking like they had been there the whole afternoon, serving meals and posing with volunteers.

He was tagged.

He even liked the post.

The caption talked about public service, solidarity, and something about being “present where it matters the most.”

But all she could think of was that today was her birthday.

And he wasn’t there.

Sakura dragged herself to work with a pounding headache and barely enough energy to fake a smile. As much as possible, she would like to avoid her co-workers and hide in Dr. Senju’s office or the research lab—however, the idea of burying herself under the covers, curling herself into her soft sheets and plush pillows, sounds a more enticing idea.

’And maybe cry myself to sleep.’ She thought as she fiddled through the patient charts.

Unfortunately, Sakura couldn’t go home just yet because she needs to do rounds with Dr. Shizune, who specializes in Pediatric Cardiology—a field that she considers along with General Pediatrics. Although she hasn’t made up her mind between the two.

They went from room to room, checking charts, speaking with parents, and examining young patients. Dr. Shizune explained cases in between, occasionally asking Sakura for her thoughts. It was routine, but the kind that reminded her why she chose this path in the first place.

Besides, staying busy helped. It kept her from dwelling too much about her disastrous birthday dinner.

By the time they finished rounds, Dr. Shizune gave her a small smile. “You look like you could use the rest. Go home, Sakura.”

She didn’t argue. Her head was pounding too much to pretend otherwise.

But when she reached the hospital lobby, her steps slowed. Sasuke was there, holding a cake in one hand and flowers in the other. He looked out of place, almost stiff, but his eyes softened when they met hers.

“I’m sorry for missing your birthday,” he said. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Something in her chest loosened. It was the first time Sasuke had ever slipped, and she believed it wouldn’t happen again. So she forgave him.

But then…

It happened again, and again, and again.

Until one day, she had enough.

It was his birthday, a night shared with the aftermath of the Hokage’s historic win. The Uchiha family hosted a grand party, celebrating both occasions. Guests filled the room, laughter mingling with clinking glasses.

Sasuke’s father, Fugaku, raised his glass. He spoke of Sasuke’s accomplishments, congratulated Minato Namikaze for winning the elections, and even mentioned Sasuke and Sakura’s upcoming wedding. Everyone clapped, smiled, and cheered.

Sakura smiled too, but it felt hollow.

Her eyes drifted across the room—and there he was. Sasuke, speaking with Izumi, apart from the crowd. The sight pulled at something deep inside her, sharp and heavy.

And for the first time, Sakura wondered if she had been lying to herself all along.

Right after that party, Sakura pretended everything was fine. She smiled when she had to, nodded when someone asked about the wedding, and carried herself like nothing was wrong. But in private, Sakura began pulling away.

At first, it was small things. She let Sasuke’s calls ring out, answering later with a casual excuse. She skimmed through his messages without replying right away, telling herself she was just tired.

Then it became more deliberate. When he asked about their weekend cafe dates, she gave him the same answer every time.

“I’m busy.”

And each time she said it, the space between them only grew wider.

She was lost in her thoughts when her smart watch buzzed with reminder from her calendar that she’s scheduled to fit her wedding dress this afternoon. ‘I’m not even sure whether I should still. I’m not even sure if—‘

Before she could finish that thought, she nearly bumped into Dr. Sasori just outside the elevator.

He glanced at her, hands in the pocket of his white coat. “You look glum, Haruno. Did someone ruin your weekend plans?”

Sakura offered a polite smile. “Something like that.”

Dr. Sasori didn’t press. He simply went on his way, muttering something about hospital lighting making everyone look half-dead.

She stepped out of the elevator and walked toward the exit, wondering if she still had the energy to face her reflection in a wedding dress.

In the end, she took the bus headed to Upstate Konoha. Convincing herself that trying on her wedding dress again would help ease her doubts. Maybe it would remind her of everything she was looking forward to. Maybe it would help her feel less unsure.

When Sakura arrived at the atelier, a staff led her to the dressing room where she first fitted her gown. She was offered refreshments but she declined and said that she has an appointment after this.

Inside, she stepped into the gown with practiced ease. As the fabric settled on her frame, one of the attendants pinched the waist gently and said, “It feels a little loose. Have you lost weight, Miss Haruno?”

Sakura only smiled, unsure how to answer.

She stepped out of the dressing room, the fabric of the gown brushing lightly against the floor. One of the staff clapped her hands softly, beaming. “You look radiant, Miss Haruno. Absolutely glowing!”

Sakura managed a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Radiant wasn’t how she felt. Not with the heaviness still sitting in her chest.

And then she saw him.

Sasuke, standing across the room, dressed in his custom black suit for their wedding. It fit him perfectly, sharp lines and clean cuts that matched his usual composed self. He hadn’t noticed her yet since he was speaking to Ms. Kurenai, one hand in his pocket, the other gesturing slightly as he nodded at something being said.

Sakura froze, unsure if she should step forward or turn back into the dressing room. She hadn’t expected to see him here. Not today. Not after what happened on that party.

Then, he turned.

And their eyes met. 

For  a long moment, neither of them moved.

Sasuke didn’t say anything, but something shifted in his expression. That look, the one she knew too well. The one that always made it hard to stay mad at him. There was something unspoken in his eyes, like he was trying to tell her something without saying a word.

But Sakura didn’t want to hear it.

Not now.

She looked away first, pretending to adjust the skirt of her gown. Her throat tightened but she kept her posture straight. If he thought he could just show up and make things okay again with that look, he was wrong.

She turned on her heel and walked back into the dressing room without looking back. She didn’t want to. Because staying in the same room with Sasuke felt impossible right now. Not after everything.

Inside the dressing room, Sakura changed out of the gown as quickly as she could. Her fingers fumbled through the zipper, the fabric feeling heavier than it should.

She slipped into her jeans and shirt, tied her hair up, and avoided looking at herself in the mirror.

Sakura stepped out of the shop without a word to that staff, head down, walking faster than she normally does.

“Sakura,” Sasuke called from behind.

But she didn’t stop walking.

“Sakura,” Sasuke said again, this time closer.

She finally halted, just outside the shop’s glass door, but she didn’t face him. Not when she couldn’t blink her tears away.

“What do you want? She choked back a sob. Her voice was calm but flat.

“I’m sorry,” Sasuke said.

She turned slowly, her emerald eyes meeting his. “What are you apologizing for?”

”I don’t know. I just—“ Sasuke’s words fumbled, unable to think of what to say next. 

“Do you still want to do this?”

Sasuke blinked. “What do you mean?”

”This. Us. The wedding.” She replied. “Because I’m not so sure anymore.”

His brows drew together, but he didn’t speak.

Sakura continued, “I’ve been trying to convince myself that everything’s fine, that I’m overthinking things. But lately…it feels like I’m the only one holding this together.

”That’s not true, Sakura I—“

”Then help me understand!” Her voice cracked, hoarse from holding back the sobs that had been sitting in her chest for the whole time. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you’re still not over her.”

Her hands trembled at her sides. The weight of everything pressed down on her all at once. She didn’t want to cry. Not here, especially not in front of him. But her heart was breaking into pieces, and she could no longer pretend it didn’t hurt.

Sasuke’s eyes dropped for a second.

And that was all the answer she needed.

Sakura felt something twist in her chest. “I don’t want to be someone you settle for, Sasuke-kun. I deserve better than that.”

She glanced down at her hand as if noticing the ring for the first time. The thin band sat snugly on her finger, the ruby on the middle catching the light with a softness that once made her heart flutter.

But now, it just felt heavy.

Sakura slipped it off slowly, almost hesitantly, like removing something that had grown into her. Then she stepped closer to Sasuke and held out her hand, the ring resting on her open palm.

She looked up at him, eyes searching, not for an apology, but for his true feelings.

“Tell me, Sasuke-kun…do you still want to do this?”

The silence between them said more than any answer he could give.

Sasuke did not move. Not even when she placed the ring in his hand.

Sakura stepped back, the space between them widening with each breath she took.

And this time, she didn’t wait for him to follow.

It was a good thing that the supplier hadn’t printed out the wedding invitations yet and only close family and friends know that it wasn’t going to happen.

They were never going to happen.

After breaking up with Sasuke, he called her almost everyday. But she didn’t return any of his calls. There were nights when he showed up at the hospital, hoping to catch her after her shift so they could talk. She saw him a few times, waiting by the lobby or near the parking area. But she never came close. She just let him wait. Sometimes for hours, until he finally left.

Mikoto even came to the hospital one afternoon, in the middle of August. She waited by the lobby, holding a paper bag of home-cooked food, asking if they could talk. Sakura listened, out of respect, as the Uchiha matriarch gently pleaded for her to give Sasuke a chance.

But Sakura refused. As much as she cared for Mikoto, this was something she had to do for herself. She wasn’t going to go back just because it was easier.

Just because there’s still a space in her heart that’s ready to give Sasuke another chance.

Right now, all she wanted was to be left alone and let her nurse her heart that has been ripped into pieces. 

As a last resort, Sakura told Mikoto everything.

About the times that she felt small, like she was never truly a part of Sasuke’s world no matter how she tried. She talked about the doubt that crept in after Shisui mentioned that Sasuke might never have gotten over his first love, and Sasuke never refuted that. 

That was when she started questioning if she was just the safer choice. The one Sasuke turned to not because he wanted to, but because the one he truly loved was always close by, just out of reach.

Mikoto sat through all of it. She didn’t interrupt, nor defended her son. She just listened. And when Sakura finished, she just looked at her with eyes full of sadness and said, “I didn’t know, Sakura-chan. I’m sorry you had to carry all that alone.”

“I still love Sasuke-kun,” Sakura admitted, voice low. “So much that it hurts.”

In the end, all Mikoto could say was how sorry she was for everything. The Uchiha matriarch let her go afterwards, but before that, she pleaded for Sakura to not be a stranger if they meet again. “You will always be my daughter, Sakura-chan. Take care of yourself, will you?”

After speaking to Mikoto, Sakura had lost count of the days. 

Living like a shell of her former self did things to her in ways she couldn’t fully name. She drowned herself in work—so much that she was selected among the hospital’s roster of skilled doctors who will participate in KUMC’s Hospital Exchange Program.

Dr. Senju gave her five days to pack all her stuff and sort out her documents before heading to Suna. With barely enough time to get everything done, she asked Ino for help. Some of her colleagues offered to help, even her junior, Moegi, but she declined since she’s getting rid of things that she won’t be taking with her.

Ino showed up with a takeout from Yakiniku Q, knowing that Sakura often forgets to eat when she’s too preoccupied.”

“Forehead, you look gaunt. Have you been eating properly?” Ino asked as she set the table.

Sakura hadn’t. The last real meal she had was days ago, the leftovers from the dishes Mikoto prepared for her, which were now long gone. She mostly survived on takeouts or light meals that her stomach could handle.

She’s been puking her guts to the toilet and barely has appetite—that the only she could take right now are fruits.

When Ino opened the container of fermented radish, the smell hit Sakura instantly. Her stomach churned making her run to the toilet abruptly, barely making it in time before emptying the contents of her stomach.

Her best friend followed her with a worried look on her face. Ino crouched by the door, peering in as Sakura leaned over the bowl.

“Sakura,” she said carefully, “are you…pregnant?”

-End of Part I-

Epilogue:

It was a long day for Sasuke.

He had come straight from a strategy meeting at the headquarters of Naruto’s father, Minato Namikaze, and headed back to his office to review case files.

Though the campaign season hadn’t officially begun, Minato’s party, Itachi included, was already in deep preparations. With the sudden rise of a far-right group in Konoha, led by Danzo Shimura, none of them could afford to let their guard down.

Sasuke sank to his swivel chair and leaned back, letting the silence settle over him for a moment. Then—ding!—a message lit up his phone screen.

It was from his mom, with a photo attached and captioned: “She tried on this one today, What do you all think?”

The image of was of Sakura in an elegant ivory gown, her smile caught mid-laugh, the hem of dress flowing gently around her feet.

She looked radiant.

Reactions trickled in. Izumi sent a string of heart emojis, while Shisui replied with: “She's way too good for you, Sasuke.” Even Itachi, rarely active in group chats, sent a thumbs-up.

Sasuke saw it all in silence.

He didn’t reply. Heck, he didn't open the chat again that night.

But hours later, while reviewing a case file, he glanced at the photo once more—and saved it on his phone.

Chapter Text

Sasuke was late. Very late.

He had a full schedule, back-to-back meetings and case reviews, and the midterm elections were looming. He could not afford distractions. Yet, here he was, walking inside The Hanamori, wondering if his blind date would still be waiting.

Frankly, Sasuke did not want to go. But his mother, Mikoto Uchiha, had been the one to push for it, saying her usual lines along with “It wouldn’t kill you to meet someone new,” after his last blind date ended up being a total disaster.

His mother looked at him the way she used to when he refused vegetables, other than tomato, as a kid. And somehow, he ended up here.

He was unbothered even though he was nearly an hour late. 

To please his mother, Sasuke would go as far as sit through a polite conversation with his date and leave without looking back.

He adjusted his cufflinks as he walked inside the restaurant. Juugo, his assistant, had informed him that the reservation had been taken care of by his mother’s friend, Dr. Tsunade Senju, so he approached the receptionist at the front. “Reservation under Dr. Senju,” he said.

The woman glanced at the list and gave a polite nod. “Right this way, sir.” 

As they moved past the tables, Sasuke kept his eyes ahead, only half-listening to the receptionist mumbling about becoming a member in the hotel’s VIP circle and the perks that comes along with it. But then, the receptionist slowed and gestured toward a corner by the window.

That’s when he saw her.

Sakura Haruno.

She was seated quietly with a cup of tea in front of her, head slightly turned to the view outside. The light from the window caught the soft color of her dress, the curve of her shoulder, and the neat way her cherry blossom colored hair was tucked behind one ear.

She didn’t notice him yet.

But for a second, something in his chest shifted. It reminded him of those days when the snow melts and everything starts to become warm again, when the air holds less weight, and the trees along the path to Konoha High School changes their color into the color of spring.

Sakura had always been like that to him, something he could never quite ignore no matter how much he tried.

As Sasuke walked toward the table, he took a slow breath. He didn’t think she’d show up for something like this. Didn’t think that she’d agree to go on a blind date. ‘Does she know that she’s meeting me?’

”Sorry I’m late. I had a meeting with a client on the other side of the city.” Sakura looked at him for a second, like she wasn’t sure if he was real. Then, she smiled.

”It’s been a long time, Sasuke-kun. How have you been?” Sasuke almost smirked, her voice stills sounds the same. Still chirpy, high-pitched, but clear and melodic in a way that still lingered.

He sat across from her as he called the waiter to check the menu. “Busy, work’s been nonstop.”

She laughed softly and said, “You’ve always been that way, Sasuke-kun.” 

He didn’t respond. Not right away.

He just watched her.

”And you?” he asked, trying his best to sound aloof. “What are you up to now?”

”I’m a resident at KUMC,” she replied. “Third year.”

That caught him off guard. “A doctor?”

“I didn’t know.” The last time he saw her was their high school graduation. He remembered her saying the she’d see him at Konoha University, but he didn’t go. He decided that he would attend Otogakure University and he never really gave her a reason, thinking that it has nothing to do with her.

She shrugged. “We haven’t really talked since high school.”

Sakura used to share everything with him—from the time they got grouped together with Naruto for a history project. While working on it, they gradually became friends, and he began to see Sakura in a different light.

At first, he thought she was just a silly girl with a silly crush. He never expected her to treat him kindly, especially not after all the times he kept his distance, acted cold, or brushed her off.

But now, sitting across from her, he realized she had always been there.

Even when he never asked her to be.

“You look like you belong there.” He said, remembering how Sakura always excelled in all STEM subjects they had back in high school.

In response, she looked down then smiled. “Thanks. That means more than you think.”

For a moment, he just watched her. 

The way she touched the napkin on her lap. 

The way she didn’t rush to fill the silence. 

But in the way she stole quick glances at him, Sasuke could still catch a glimpse of the girl she used to be. A trace of that sixteen-year-old who once looked at him like he was everything.

Because of that, Sasuke could feel his ears turning red. It was subtle, but undeniable. That familiar heat creeping up, catching him off guard. He quickly looked away, hoping his date didn’t notice.

“This blind date…” he said slowly, almost like testing the words. “You didn’t know either, did you?”

“Not a clue! I only said yes because my godmother wouldn’t stop nagging me about dying alone.”

His lips almost curved into a smile, noticing how Sakura was still the same yet different at the same time. While parts of her remained the same, she blossomed into a woman who can stand on her own.

“Sounds like something my mom would say.” He deadpanned.

They both chuckled, the tension easing even further.

“Well…I didn’t expect this.” Her cheeks turned a soft pink, nearly matching the color of her dress. It was subtle, but Sasuke noticed. She averted her gaze for a moment, like she was trying to keep something from showing—an old habit he remembered well.

“Me neither…but this isn’t bad.”

Sakura agreed, “No, it’s not.”

And it wasn’t

Something in him, something that he thought was long-forgotten, settled into place.

He didn’t understand it yet, but maybe…

Maybe he didn’t need to.

Chapter Text

Three years had passed quickly, and Dr. Sakura Haruno had grown used to the life she built in the Wind Country. She worked in a public hospital that often lacked resources, but she learned how to make the most of what they had. Her schedule was usually packed, and the cases were tough. But the work felt meaningful.

Especially her collaboration with Sunagakure’s City Health Office, which allowed her to be part of community-based programs. Most of her efforts were directed toward improving healthcare for children, that’s why with the help of local officials and volunteer health workers, she was able to build a center focused on children’s health, where they could be assessed and cared for, not just physically, but emotionally too.

It wasn’t perfect, but it’s getting there. 

For Sakura, that was enough reason to stay.

However, she received an email from Anko, the HR Manager of the KUMC, asking her to go back—which she should have done a year ago, but she didn’t.

Not when there’s a billion chances of bumping into her ex, Sasuke. And she didn’t like the odds because the hospital had recently received a significant funding increase under the leadership of Minato Namikaze, the current Hokage. With that came new programs, more hands on deck, and collaborations with other medical institutions outside the Fire Country.

Other than that, businesses that have ties with Sasuke’s family started pouring donations to the hospital, making it possible to build a heart center and support indigent patients. It’s nice that a lot of good things are happening to improve the healthcare system in Konoha, but what she didn’t like was the possibility of seeing Sasuke again. Now that he’s closely working with the Hokage as his legal officer. 

That’s what she heard from Ino, her constant source of news of anything Konoha-related. Although her stories were mostly about who’s dating who.

The higher-ups in KUMC wanted her back after hearing about the children’s center she helped build in Suna. They saw the potential and planned to replicate the same model in Konoha. They could build a better one, with state of the art facilities and equipment, and frankly, that sounded like a dream—especially now that she knew what it was like to work in a public hospital with limited resources.

Sakura was on her way home after meeting the Kazekage’s sister, Temari, who wasn’t happy when she broke the news that she’s being called back to Konoha. They had grown close over the years, and Temari made it clear she didn’t like losing her after everything she’s done for the city. But Sakura could only offer an apologetic smile and promise to visit when she could.

Right after her meeting, she planned to pick up groceries for the week, and drop by to her favorite sweets shop. But just as she was about to cross the street near the market, she saw an old man with wild, gray hair stumble and collapse on the sidewalk.

Sakura rushed over without hesitation, kneeling beside the old man who had fallen. She checked his pulse, it was steady but slightly weak. His breathing was irregular, but not shallow. She gently tilted his head to ensure his airway was clear, then looked around and called out to the nearby vendors.

“Please call an ambulance,” she instructed, placing her bag under the man’s head to support it. After that, she did a quick assessment, checking for signs of stroke or seizure. There were no signs of trauma and it wasn’t a heart attack either. It’s likely exhaustion or dehydration.

Sakura spoke calmly to him, hoping to keep him conscious. “Sir, can you hear me? Do you know your name?”

But the man did not respond. She checked if the man had any form of identification with him, an ID or a driver’s license. However, there were only a few coins in his pocket and a crumpled lottery ticket.

Sakura stayed with him until help arrived. When the medics came she briefed them about everything she observed and that he had no identification on him.

“We’ll take it from here, Dr. Haruno. Good work today!” said the emergency responder, whose name she couldn’t remember. She gave a tired nod, stepping back to let them lift the patient onto the stretcher.

The face of the medic felt familiar and she knew she had seen him before, but she couldn’t quite place where. It wasn’t until the ambulance had driven off, sirens fading into the distance, that it clicked.

It was Morio-san.

He used to work in the geriatrics ward and they bumped into each other a couple of times during her first year in Suna, and exchanged polite greetings. One of the nurses mentioned to her that Morio-san is working on his healthcare emergency management certificate, but she couldn’t remember anything past that—except when he pulled her aside during the hospital’s team building and confessed how he felt.

Sakura turned him down gently, explaining that her heart already belonged to someone else. That hadn’t changed.

And it still hadn’t.

Even when he couldn’t—wouldn’t reciprocate her feelings.

Not even now, when her life had completely changed, and she had someone else to care for.

That someone is turning three tomorrow.

Konoha

Sasuke slumped into his swivel chair, loosening the first button of his collar as he leaned back. His head was throbbing from sitting through more than two hours of the council’s finance committee hearing. The Hokage, being a progressive leader, had personally requested the budget increase for the health department to support Konoha University Medical Center’s proposal to establish a children’s center after Sunagakure’s success.

It was a necessary project. Even he could see that, but it didn’t make the back-and-forth any less exhausting because Torune Aburame, one of Danzo’s lackeys, does not see the point of establishing one. Because according to him, the city already has the best health care services in the Land of Fire, and perhaps  even in the Five Great Nations, that’s why the budget should be allocated for the social protection and subsidies intended for the city’s indigent population.

‘That guy really does have a way of dragging things out.’ Sasuke thought as he massaged his temples. Torune went as far as debating line items and projections in the annual investment plan like his life depended on it.

In the end, nothing happened. Even if Itachi's rebuttal against Torune’s argument was pretty solid. That’s why the council agreed to reconvene again next week. 

If the council goes with Torune’s suggestion, it would give Danzo the leverage he needed to gain more influence—possibly even secure a seat in the council or run again for the city’s highest office in the next general elections.

‘This is getting too troublesome.’ Now, Sasuke understood why Shikamaru always said that.

Sasuke shut the blinds in his office, planning to take a nap and shake off the tension from the hearing. He was about to close his eyes when his phone rang.

It was Obito.

“Grandpa collapsed,” Obito said frantically. “He was taken to the hospital.”

Sasuke pressed his phone to his ear, his fingers drumming against the desk as his cousin spoke from the other end of the line, sounding a little rattled.

“I swear I only stepped away for a minute,” Obito began, “Kakashi called, about our project in the north. I thought grandpa was just paying at the counter of the pachinko parlor, but when I came back, he was gone.”

Sasuke frowned. “You lost him?”

“I looked for grandpa everywhere! I almost filed a missing person report to the police here.”

Sasuke exhaled, letting the back of his head hit the wall behind him.

Obito continued, “Check the family group chat. Everyone’s losing their minds and Auntie Mikoto is already on the phone with your assistant trying to block your schedule.”

Sasuke grabbed his phone and open the muted chat, the unread messages pilling in.

A string of messages from Izumi. A dozen photos of Madara in a hospital bed. More messages from Shisui, followed by an all-caps reminder from his mom:

“SASUKE. THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO BE UNREACHABLE.”

He winced. “Perfect.”

Everyone was in panic mode, talking about booking the earliest flight to Suna.

Except Itachi because Izumi is not in the condition where she could travel freely. 

In the end, they all agreed that Sasuke would go with their mom, and Shisui—a decision he did not had the opportunity to disagree with because he wasn’t active in the chat when they decided.

Obito told everyone that he went with their grandfather in Suna so the old man could catch up with his friend, Chiyo. What was supposed to be a short visit turned into an all-nighter of pachinko and drunken impulse that ended with them buying a lottery ticket.

When Sasuke got inside his parent's house, the lights in the living room were still on. He walked to find his mother moving back and forth between the hallway and her room, clutching folded clothes and a half-zipped suitcase on the couch.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Mikoto muttered, more to herself than to him, as she stuffed another blouse into her bag.

“What was you grandfather even thinking, gallivanting around Suna like he’s thirty?” She barely looked up when Sasuke placed his keys on the table. Her expression was tight with worry, and her movements were rushed, uncoordinated, unlike her usual self.

Mikoto turned to him with a tired but focused look. “I already asked Juugo to pack your things,” she said, smoothing down the edge of her suitcase. “I knew you’d be home late.”

Sasuke nodded, unsurprised. His mother had always been ten steps ahead of everyone.

“Our flight’s at 7:00 in the morning,” she added, glancing at the clock. “That’s the earliest Shisui could find. He’ll pick us up before five, so try to get some rest.”

When Sasuke stepped into his room, he immediately noticed something was off. The room was the same, dimly lit, neat, untouched since the last time he visited home. But the framed photo that was always hidden inside his drawer was now sitting on his bedside table. Propped up at an angle, as if someone had intentionally placed it there.

He walked over and stared at it.

It was the picture of Sakura in her wedding dress, the one his mother had proudly sent in their family group chat years ago when she accompanied Sakura and her friend on a dress shopping. His mother gushed at how radiant his ex-fiancee looked, going on about how lucky the groom would be.

Sasuke never replied to that thread.

But…

What no one knew was he saved that picture from the group chat the night his mother sent it. That image shouldn’t have affected him in the way it did, but it did.

He was just too stubborn to admit it.

Later after a meeting with Naruto, he noticed a framed photo of Hinata on his best friend’s desk. When he called it out, that dimwit just grinned and said, “It makes the day better.”

Sasuke didn’t say anything back, but that same day, he ordered a frame online, printed the photo of Sakura, and kept it in his drawer.

He was going to display it on his office, thinking that maybe it would help ease her doubts. Reassure her somehow.

But then—

’Do you still want to do this? Us. The Wedding. Because I’m not so sure anymore.’ Her voice still rang in his head, low and trembling like she had already made up her mind before asking.

It wasn’t just what she said that stayed with him.

It was everything he didn’t say.

He had let things hang in the air too long, let Sakura draw her own conclusions…and maybe she wasn’t wrong for thinking he still looked at Izumi a certain way, even if that wasn’t exactly what was going on.

Sasuke barely got any sleep that night.

His thoughts keep circling back to the night he proposed to Sakura—how everything had fallen into place just the way he planned. He even went as far as asking his mother for her old engagement ring, thinking it would be enough. The ring had been in their family for generations, dating back to the time of Indra Otsutsuki, his revered ancestor.

According to stories passed down in the family, Indra forged the ring himself as a symbol of his devotion to his wife, and since then, it had been passed down from one generation to the next.

When morning came, Sasuke practically dragged himself out of bed, moving through his usual routine with little energy. Outside his room, he could hear his mother’s voice, giving instructions to Itachi, reminding him to defrost the meals she prepared and kept in the freezer, and how to make the overnight oats Izumi had been craving lately. She was in her third trimester now, almost ready to give birth.

When Shisui arrived, the first thing he said was, “You look like hell, Sasuke. Ever thought getting a facial for once?”

Sasuke didn’t bother responding. He just wheeled his luggage toward the door and slipped on his jacket. His mother appeared a moment later, carrying a food container in one hand and her carry-on in the other.

“Eat this on the plane. You won’t like the airline food,” Mikoto told him as she tucked the container into the front pocket of his backpack.

Shisui stood by the stairs, adjusting the handle of his own suitcase. “Auntie, you packed food for me too, right?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Mikoto stared at him flatly. “You? You’re old enough to pack your own.”

Sasuke didn’t say anything as he opened the front door. He wasn’t in the mood for banter. Not with his head still foggy from a restless night and that picture of Sakura sitting where it wasn’t supposed to be.

Thankfully, the flight wasn’t delayed, and after a little over two hours in the air, they landed safely in Suna. Extreme heat welcomed them in the moment they stepped off the plane, different from the kind of warmth they were used to back home.

Sasuke adjusted the strap of his watch, trying to ignore the way the sun bore down on them as they made their way to the arrival area.

Obito was already waiting outside the airport when they stepped out, waving his hand to catch their attention. Despite his cheerful greeting, he looked like he hadn’t slept either. 

As soon as they reached him, he opened the trunk without a word, helping Mikoto and Shisui with the luggage. From the airport, they drove straight to the hotel to check in and drop their bags before heading to the hospital.

While on their way to Sunagakure General Hospital, Mikoto leaned forward from the backseat, her voice firm but calm. “Obito, tell us everything. From the start.”

Yesterday, the family’s group chat exploded with a lot of panic and hysteria about what happened to the venerable Madara Uchiha. He was the picture of health when he left Konoha, but a few weeks in this humid country made him collapse just like that.

Obito kept his eyes on the road. 

“We were out in a pachinko parlor. Grandpa said he wanted to see an old friend and maybe play a few rounds of pachinko. I stepped out to take a work call—wasn’t even gone for five minutes—but when I came back, he was gone.”

At the same time, Shisui pulled down the visor mirror and squinted on his reflection. “This heat is brutal! Do you think they sell decent sunblock here? I’m not trying to walk around Suna like a burnt tomato.”

“Shisui, focus,” Mikoto said sternly, though not unkindly, before turning back to Obito. “And then?”

“I looked for him everywhere,” Obito answered. His grip on the steering wheel tightened. 

“Grandpa didn’t have his phone or wallet on him, and I was already about to file a missing person report at the police station when they received a call from the hospital. Someone found him unconscious and brought him in.”

Sasuke simply sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed as he stared out the window, listening to their conversation in silence.

However, the moment his cousin mentioned the hospital call, Sasuke’s brows furrowed. “And no one knows who found him?” he asked, tone low.

Obito shook his head. “Not yet. The hospital said he was already semi-conscious when they brought him in. They didn’t get the name of the person who found him. Just said that it was a woman who didn’t leave any details and left as soon as the medics took over.”

Mikoto let out a breath. “At least he’s safe. But still…” her voice trailed off, the worry etched on her face not softening.

Sasuke finally turned to look at his cousin. “You shouldn’t have left him alone.”

“I know,” Obito muttered, “I screwed up. Believe me. I’ve been replaying that moment in my head since last night.”

From the backseat, Shisui opened his backpack and pulled out a travel-sized bottle. “This better not be expired,” he mumbled. “I bought this last summer.”

No one answered.

The mood had shifted, heavier now. Sasuke didn’t say anything else, but his fingers tapped once on his thigh, an old habit when he was thinking too much.

When they arrived at Suna General Hospital, the difference was immediately apparent. The walls were duller, the lights slightly dimmer, and the equipment looked a little older—nothing like KUMC’s sleek state of the art design supported by consistent funding and private donations.

From Sasuke’s research, the city suffered the most under the tyrannical rule of its former Kage backed by the feudal lords of the Wind Country. That’s why hasn’t been able to keep up with the standards of Konoha when it comes to healthcare.

Still, there was something grounded about the place. Despite its limitations, Suna General had managed to do something Konoha hadn’t—build a fully functioning children’s health center that served both physical and mental wellness. The very model that Konoha now planned to replicate.

As they made their way toward Madara’s room, Mikoto slowed down as they passed through the hospital lobby. There was a corner dedicated as a play space for children.

She paused, eyes catching on a toddler sitting on the soft mat, playing with wooden blocks. The girl had thick black hair and sharp eyes that narrowed in focus as she stacked each piece.

“She looks like you,” Mikoto murmured, glancing at Sasuke. “And Itachi too when you two were little.”

Sasuke looked over, then turned his gaze forward again. “Let’s go.”

But Mikoto stayed for another second, before she quietly followed.

Just as they were about to walk past the play area, the little  girl suddenly burst into tears. Her cries echoed through the lobby, sharp and full of distress. Her nanny bent down, trying to calm her, but nothing seemed to work.

She offered the little girl toys, gently rubbed her back, whispered words that no longer made a difference.

Something pulled at Mikoto.

She stopped walking, eyes still on the little girl.

“You three go ahead,” she said. “I’ll catch up.”

Without waiting for their response, Mikoto walked toward the crying child, her steps calm and unhurried, like she’d done this a hundred times before.

Uchiha Madara, the only political rival of Senju Hashirama, was never the same after he collapsed. He hadn’t said much when his daughter-in-law and grandchildren arrived. He hadn’t done much either, except sit up in bed and stare at the hospital window, like the world outside held something only he could see.

Shisui tried to lighten the mood, pulling a chair closer to the bed. “What are you looking at, old man?” 

There was a long pause. So long that they thought he didn’t hear the question, or maybe just wasn’t in the mood to speak.

Then, in a low voice, Madara answered, “Sakura.”

Sasuke’s brows drew together, unsure if he heard that right. Sakura?

He stepped closer to the window, eyes narrowing at the almond tree. The blossoms were faint, lighter than the ones back home, but the way they moved in the wind, brought back something he tried to bury.

Sasuke glanced at his grandfather, who didn’t say another word.

Of course, it was just a tree. Or the name of the flower.

But Sasuke felt something shift in his chest, subtle and unwelcome. Because deep inside, he was hoping the the good samaritan who helped his grandfather was Sakura.

That somehow, they have ended in the same space once again…and maybe, just maybe, this was his chance to make things right.

Perhaps, he’s just being delusional. There’s no way that Sakura would be here when she made sure that he’s not going to see her ever again. Not even a strand of her hair.

Sasuke has been all over the world in the last three years, searching for her. Heck, he even chased her all the way to the airport.

But Sakura never looked back. Not even when he stood there, willing to risk everything. His pride, his career, and everything he had just to get her back.

Just to have her again next to him.

The hospital has given strict orders that Madara would remain under observation for the next few days. The doctors suspected early signs of dementia, and Obito had already mentioned that there were moments where their grandfather experiences moments of confusion.

There were times that he was forgetting where he was, calling people by the wrong names, and drifting into stories that didn’t add up.

It was subtle at first, but after the collapse and his strange, silent state since regaining his consciousness, it was clear now.

Madara, whose presence could shake even the incumbent Hokage, was beginning to slip.

A few days later, the doctors gave Madara medical clearance to travel back to Konoha, provided that he continued his medication and routine check-ups.

Shisui, ever the planner (the mischievous kind), suggested they borrow the Hyuga family’s Cessna plane, or request to use the Hokage’s chopper. Certainly, Mr. Namikaze would not refuse an ailing former public servant.

“It makes sense,” he argued, “given Grandpa’s condition. We could land straight at KUMC’s helipad or Sora-Ku Airbase and avoid the hassle of commercial flights.”

But Sasuke shook his head. “He’d hate that,” he said firmly. “Grandfather grew up with enough money to afford comfort, but he was never the type to flaunt it. You remember how he used to scold Uncle Kagami for buying imported cigars?”

Mikoto nodded knowingly as she packed Madara’s remaining clothes in the suitcase.

“Sasuke’s right, we should fly commercial. We could just select our seats for Grandpa’s comfort.” Obito added.

Bay Sand Tower, Sunagakure

The last time Sakura’s place looked this chaotic was three years ago, where boxes piled on top of each other, clothes scattered everywhere, and half-finished to do lists taped to the fridge. Back then, she was packing to leave Konoha and start a new life.

But now, it was different. 

This time, she was saying goodbye to the apartment that had become her home. The place where her daughter, Sarada, took her first steps.

The place where laughter echoed in the mornings and lullabies filled the night.

The space that has become her and daughter’s world away from her painful past.

Away from him.

She was being called back to Konoha for the new children’s center that the city, in partnership with KUMC, was building. As the pioneer of the program, she was invited to speak on behalf of the hospital next council session, to present the center’s success, its impact, and the stories of children who were victims of violence and unfair circumstances who are taking their narrative back.

But mostly, she was being called because some numbskull in the council thought that the project was unnecessary since the city already makes the best health care accessible to the public. 

’I swear, politicians like that will be the of civilized society.’ Sakura scoffed to herself.

In three days, the apartment should be completely vacant. Most of her things had already been shipped to Konoha last week and Ino promised to handle the rest. The rest of her stuff had been sold online, those that she no longer needs.

Sakura hasn’t seen her best friend in three years, yet the first thing she did, even before landing back to Konoha, was trouble her. Of course, Ino didn’t complain, because she was excited to finally see Sarada and dress her in cute baby clothes from her clothing line.

Ino launched her clothing brand online last year. Since then, sales had been steady and promising. Her small but hardworking team projected that, by the second quarter of the following year, they’d finally open their first physical store in Konoha.

Naturally, Sarada had to be their unofficial brand ambassador. Because Ino was convinced that having her wear one of her pieces would boost her brand’s marketing tenfold.

“It’s time to put those Uchiha genes to good use, Forehead!” she declared with a grin, holding up a tiny beige blazer next to her face during their FaceTime call.

Sakura, who was nursing a cup of tea while trying to keep Sarada from climbing onto a moving box, just rolled her eyes. “She’s three, Pig. Not a runway model, besides she’s not even in preschool yet.”

“Exactly!” Ino shot back. “The kid basically inherited all of  her father’s best features and none of your forehead,” she teased with a wink.

Sakura rolled her eyes. “Remind me again why we’re still friends?”

“Duh…because I’m always right,” Ino replied smugly.

It didn’t take long for Sakura to finish all the packing. It does really help that she had always been organized, especially now that she’s a mother.

Right after that, she checked if there was anything left in her to-do list. Seeing none, she gave the apartment one last look to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything.

That’s when she noticed the mug on the kitchen counter. The one she and Sasuke bought during their trip to Redaku, which came as a pair. She kept one, and her ex had the other…although she’s not certain if he kept his after all these years.

The print had faded a little, but the memory was still clear.

They bought one of those matching mugs while looking around the touristy areas in Redaku. Sakura hadn’t planned to go inside the store at first, not when its name was far too cheesy even for her. The store front has this pastel signage: ME & U, filled with overly romantic cliche imaginable like couple shirts, bracelets, towels, and even matching chopsticks.

But that changed when she saw a couple smiling at each other while walking hand-in-hand inside the store.

She glanced at her fiancee, walking just a step behind her with his hands in his pockets.

“I know,” she muttered with a small laugh. “Totally not your thing,”

But he followed her inside without a word.

Sakura’s eyes wandered to a rack of mugs with handwritten signs—His & Hers, Love You/Love You More, Hubby/Wifey. She was about to keep walking when Sasuke reached past her and picked up a set.

One mug was pink, the other was blue. The design of the two mugs wasn’t over-the-top and there were no cringey quotes plastered on them either, just a small engraved image of the moon and stars. 

The design looks simple, but when placed side by side and aligned perfectly, it forms a complete scene.

“These seem okay,” Sasuke said simply. He seemed nonchalant, but she could see his cheeks turn into a subtle shade pink. She wanted to tease him about it, but she’d rather not.

“Wait, you like these?” Her eyes widened.

He gave a half-shrug. “They’re practical.”

Sasuke has this tough, cool guy air around him and she didn’t want to ruin this rare moment between them. Sure, they collected stickers from this popular coffee chain back home to get matching planners.

But this was different.

This was Sasuke doing something she thought he’d never do.

Sakura grinned, “You mean, they’re not too embarrassing.”

He didn’t answer, just headed to the counter with the mugs in hand.

Later that night, Sakura watched her fiancé rinse the blue mug and pour his tea in it like he’s been using it for years. 

Then, he caught her staring.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she answered in a sing-song voice, smiling as she cupped her pink mug. “I never thought you’d be the type.”

Sasuke looked away, but she saw the faintest smile tug at the corner of his lips. “I’m not,” he answered. “But you are.”

Sakura blinked as she was pulled back to the present. 

The mug was still on the counter, the pink one. The print had indeed faded over the years, and one of the stars had chipped off.

She stared at it for a second longer, then reached for it.

For a moment, she considered tossing it into the box of old things she planned to leave behind. After all, it was just a mug and people throw those out all the time—no one would ever question her if she did.

But instead, she rinsed it then dried it with a kitchen towel before wrapping it in an old newspaper and tucking it into the side pocket of her carry-on.

It wasn’t about nostalgia at all. There just wasn’t any sense in throwing out a perfectly good mug—

Just because it carried too many memories.

Three Days Later—Sunagakure International Airport

The lounge area near Gate 14 buzzed with the usual airport noise—rolling suitcases, muffled announcements, restless, screaming kids—the little goblins Sasuke hate the most. He was sitting beside his grandfather’s wheelchair, arms crossed as he watched Obito argue with the vending machine.

The plan was straightforward: fly back to Konoha and take grandfather straight to KUMC for a full check-up since the medical care back home was miles ahead of Suna’s.

Across the terminal, Mikoto was balancing two bottles of water, a bag of sweet buns, and a suspiciously overpriced pack of wasabi chips. Shisui was already far ahead, carrying a bag of duty-free items as if he was doing a casual fashion show down the departure lounge.

She was about to call out to him when something, or rather, someone caught her eye.

The girl from the hospital.

There’s no mistaking it, she was the same girl she saw at the hospital’s play area. The one who’d been wailing in lobby, inconsolable in her nanny’s arms. Mikoto had paused that day, intending to walk past—but the look of helplessness of the nanny’s face made her stop.

“May I?” she asked gently.

The nanny who was startled, gave a small nod.

And so the Uchiha matriarch cradled the child in her arms like she used to do with her own sons—rocking gently, humming under her breath. To her surprise, she calmed down almost immediately, burying her face against her shoulder with a hiccupped sob. It was instinct, more than anything else. 

But something about the way she clung to her unsettled her.

Now, here she was again.

This time, she was holding a juice box in hand and a cat plushie under one arm. She was seated beside a woman wearing a pink scrub top with bunnies on it, who stood up just then, gathering their things.

The girl slid off the chair and reached for her hand.

Mikoto stood frozen in place, watching them walk away upon realizing that she looked even more like Sasuke now. 

Not vaguely. Exactly. 

As if she was her son’s carbon copy.

She almost reached into her bag for that baby photo of Sasuke when he was around the same age, hair just as stubborn and sticking out in all directions.

But Shisui’s voice cut through her daze.

“Auntie! Let’s go, boarding’s staring!”

She blinked, clutching the bag of chips tighter as she turned to follow him.

As she walked briskly toward Shisui, Mikoto kept her expression neutral, but her mind was racing.

By the time she caught up with Shisui, she had already begun weighing the pros and cons of hiring a private investigator.

Sasuke noticed it right way, his mother was acting weird. There’s that dazed look on her face again—distracted and distant like her thoughts were somewhere else entirely. It was the same look she had when she thought his father was having an affair.

But he didn’t ask. He had one hand on his grandfather’s wheelchair, the other keeping his boarding pass from slipping out of his jacket’s side pocket. 

Madara was half-asleep, mumbling about the airport coffee being overpriced. He was kind of his usual self today, but not entirely, but Sasuke didn’t have the energy right now to say anything.

Behind him, Shisui and Obito were still arguing like idiots about sweet buns.

“You bought the wrong ones again, stupid!”

“Sweet buns are sweet buns, dimwit.”

Sasuke rolled his eyes, his cousins—these cousins of his are too much to handle. It’s like they never matured past twelve. Mentally.

As they moved along the jet bridge, he caught something in the corner of his eye. 

A flicker of pink in the crowd. Faint and quick, perhaps a reflection. Or perhaps not.

But it was enough to make his steps falter.

He didn’t turn around, he just kept walking.

It probably wasn’t her.

As soon as Sakura stepped inside her old apartment, all she wanted was to collapse into bed and maybe not wake up until next week. 

But Ino had other plans.

“Forehead, you are not sleeping. Not yet,” her blonde best friend declared, already pulling Sarada out of Sakura’s arms. “I’ve been waiting for three years for this reunion and you are not wasting it by passing out on me.”

Sakura groaned, pushing her luggage by the door. “Can’t we save this tomorrow? My body’s still somewhere between Suna and Konoha.”

“Exactly why you need a wardrobe reset,” Ino shot back. “Come on, I’ll make it quick. Besides, you have a council meeting in two days, right?”

Sakura narrowed her eyes. “What does that have to do anything?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because your ex is probably going to be there?”

Sakura didn’t answer. That surely is the inevitable. Sasuke handles the city government’s legal affairs, and that includes ensuring the legalities of the passage of the city’s supplemental budget for the fiscal year.

“So unless you want him to see you in your usual ‘overworked doctor who hasn’t slept in three days’ look, we’re picking an outfit.”

Before she could argue, Sakura was already being dragged into Ino’s home studio-slash-boutique. A bright, airy space filled with racks of tailored blazers, pleated skirts, and pastel two-pieces. It smelled like fresh fabric, sandalwood…and a bit of chaos.

So much like Ino.

Ino handed Sarada back to her nanny and started pulling out options like a woman on a mission.

“This one says ‘I’m thriving without you,’”she said, holding up a sleek beige jumpsuit. “This one says ‘I’m professional and emotionally unbothered.’”A cream blazer with wide lapels—not totally her style, but Sakura was having second thoughts. Maybe it would suit her.

“And this one says ‘Look at me wrong and I’ll crush you’”

This time, Sakura raised an eyebrow. “How about something that says ‘I’m just here to discuss and not rehash ancient heartbreak’?”

Ino snorted. “Too late. You are dressing for war, Forehead. I expect at least one jaw to drop when you walk in.”

“And if it’s not his?”

“Then it’ll be everyone else’s.” Ino winked, holding up a tailored lilac co-ord with just the right amount of sharpness. “Try this. It’s soft, but powerful just like you. And if he shows up, at least you’ll look like the one who got away.”

Sakura sighed, but took the outfit anyway. She wasn’t sure if she was emotionally ready for any of this. But when she looked at Sarada sitting on a pile of Ino’s throw pillows, babbling to herself in a tiny cable-knit cardigan, she figured she didn’t really have much of a choice.

Besides, Ino wasn’t wrong. Looking good never hurt anyone.

The day Sakura had been dreading finally came.

She hadn’t recovered much from the fatigue of moving back to Konoha, and now she had to attend a formal council meeting while still running on barely four hours of sleep. Sarada has been unusually clingy since they arrived, and Tamaki, her nanny, was having a hard time getting the three-year old to cooperate, especially during meals.

So Sakura spent the entire morning sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor, coaxing her sweet baby girl, who’s the spitting image of her father, into eating spoonfuls of soft rice and scrambled egg while she clutched her stuffed cat in one hand.

“Sara-chan, sweetheart, just one more bite,” she said softly, trying to keep her tone light despite the growing stress pounding behind her eyes.

“No,” she pouted, shaking her head. “I want Mama.”

“I am Mama,”she said, stifling a tired smile. “And I’m literally feeding you right now.”

Tamaki hovered nearby, visibly apologetic. “I tried singing the breakfast song again, but she didn’t—“

“It’s okay. She’s adjusting…we all are.”

It was already past nine when she got Sarada to finish half of her plate, and it was almost ten before she managed to shower and get ready.

Sakura barely recognized herself in the mirror as fastened the last button of her blouse. She paired it with a navy blue blazer, reluctantly. 

But Ino’s words played in her head on repeat, ‘You do realize who’s going to be in that room, right?’

By the time she was finally in the car, Sarada had already dozed off on Tamaki’s shoulder, and Sakura was clutching the outline of the hospital’s proposal like it was armor.

She wasn’t nervous about the presentation. Not at all.

She was nervous about who might be in the room when she gave it.

Because even though she hadn’t asked around, even though she told herself it didn’t matter—Sakura already knew.

Sasuke would be there.

It was Sakura’s first time attending the city’s council meeting.

She’d been to Suna’s plenty of times, but standing now in front of a long curved table of both familiar and unfamiliar faces, she realized just how different Konoha was from the city she called home for the past three years.

The session hall was quieter than she expected. It wasn’t tense, just formal. But it was the kind of quiet that made her aware of every step she took.

At the center of it all sat the Hokage and Naruto’s father, Minato Namikaze. He was calm and composed that made everyone else seem a little louder by comparison. 

On his right was Sasuke. ‘No, I should call him Atty. Uchiha now.’

Sakura’s eyes caught on him for half a second longer than she meant to. He was reading the first page of Suna General’s accomplishment report on the children’s center…or he was pretending to.

She quickly looked away.

Sakura introduced herself briefly then launched into her presentation. The screen behind her showed photos of Suna’s children center, which was modest in comparison to the perspective design of the one Konoha wants to build, but it was clean and functional. 

However, despite the modest structure of the children’s center in Suna, it has a wide courtyard with therapeutic play spaces. It has a mini library, its shelves lined with donated books and sensory tools.

“We started with fifteen children,” she said. “All victims of displacement, conflict, or neglect. Most didn’t speak for weeks and some wouldn’t eat.”

Her eyes scanned the room and found the face of an odd looking council member, who somehow bears some resemblance to the members of the Aburame family. He was flipping away the pages of the hospital’s project brief with an uninterested look on his face.

Sakura didn’t focus on him, instead, she moved the presentation forward to the gradual integration of structured care, local partnerships, and how they trained caregivers not just to supervise, but to listen.

“We learned that healing starts with routine,” she continued, “but it thrives with connection. It wasn’t enough to feed them or keep them safe. They needed to feel safe.”

The council member she thought weird earlier leaned back on his seat, arms crossed, as if he was still unconvinced. But the Hokage’s hand went up and asked about the project’s sustainability.

She answered him evenly, explaining the center’s mixed funding model and Suna’s intersectoral support from education, social services, and public health.

“Was that approach something you developed locally, or was it based on existing frameworks?”It was Itachi who asked. His tone was even, but there was genuine curiosity behind the question.

Sakura met his gaze. “Both. We adapted several trauma-informed models to fit our local context. The staff underwent consistent training. We worked closely with public health and community workers.”

He nodded once and scribbled something down.

Sakura continued her presentation, careful not to let her eyes drift toward the figure seated near the Hokage.

But she felt him there.

Sasuke.

He hadn’t said anything yet, but she didn’t need to look to know he was watching when she could feel the intensity of his gaze behind her back.

Sakura clicked to the final slide, silently thanking the heavens that she could go right after this.

“I wasn’t sent here to propose a blueprint,”she clarified. “The city government is free to adapt, improve, or discard any of these approaches. I’m just here to share what worked for us in Suna.”

She wasn’t here at all to present a sales pitch. After all, she wouldn’t be speaking in front of all the men before her if they were all into an agreement that a children’s center is necessary and it will help them secure a better future.

After her talk, Mr. Namikaze thanked her warmly before they moved on to the next agenda. Sakura stepped down and gathered her things.

One of the Hokage’s executive assistants approached her, whose name she forgot. “Dr. Haruno, Hokage-sama asked if you could join him for lunch.”

Sakura initially thought of saying no, but who in their right mind would refuse an invitation from the most powerful man in Konoha, right?

“Oh sure, I don’t have anything scheduled this afternoon.” She replied.

“I will inform Hokage-sama. In the mean time, you can wait in the Legal Office’s conference room.”

‘Legal Office? That means it’s Sasuke’s department.’ 

Sakura nearly stopped on her tracks, but the Hokage’s EA ushered her inside. “This way Dr. Haruno.”

As she passed by the Legal Office, the door to one of the rooms was slightly open.

She peered what’s inside.

It was Sasuke’s office.

At a single glance, she could see that everything was in order. Shelves lined with folders, a desk free of clutter—the space looked exactly how she remembered him. Neat and controlled.

But one the corner of the desk sat a blue mug.

She stopped for a second and blinked twice, thinking that she must be seeing things. ‘There’s no way he would keep that after all these years.’

It was one of the pair they bought from Redaku. It was slightly faded like hers, but still intact.

Sakura looked away immediately before the assistant could notice and followed them into the conference room.

Inside the conference room, she sat down and reached for her phone, pretending to scroll.

She told herself it didn’t mean anything. Maybe Sasuke finds it wasteful to throw a perfectly usable mug, just like why she kept hers. There’s no reason for dwell over something small and insignificant.

But for some reason, it still made her chest feel tight.

Sasuke had sat through dozens of council meetings, most of which blurred into one another. He expected the same that morning, until the Hokage introduced the resource person representing the hospital.

At first, he thought he heard it wrong. Because there’s no way that she would be here. Not after the way she left and after all these years.

But then, she walked in.

Sakura.

He blinked, unsure if his mind was playing tricks on him. But it was really her.

Her shoulder-length hair was no more, she grew it back—like the way she did in high school. It was tied back neatly, with a few strands framing her face.

Sasuke never said it out loud, but Sakura had always been beautiful. But seeing her again, just standing a few feet in a room that suddenly felt too small, she looked different.

Composed. Poised.

She was radiant in a way that knocked the breath out of him.

For a moment, Sasuke swore his heart skipped a beat.

While she was presenting, he watched her in silence. He hadn’t paid much attention to the discussion at all, he was only focused on her voice, and the way she moved.

And when her eyes briefly swept over the table and landed on him, there was no flicker of emotion. Just a polite glance before she moved on.

Right after the meeting Sasuke returned to his office to charge his laptop. But as he passed the glass wall of the conference room beside it, he caught sight of her again. Waiting quietly, seated by herself.

Without thinking, he stepped in.

“Sakura.”

She looked up. There was a flicker of recognition in her eyes, but no warmth.

“Atty. Uchiha,” she replied with a nod.

The formality struck him harder than her expected. For a moment, he stood there, thinking of something else to say. Something that didn’t sound like catching up with an ex-lover, who’s now a stranger.

But the space between them felt different now.

It’s like there’s a line that she didn’t want him to cross.

“You did well…during the presentation,” he managed.

“Thank you.” Her smile was brief, the professional kind. “I hope the council found it helpful.”

The silence that followed was sharp, awkward.

Sasuke stared, as if the right words might come to him if he waited long enough. There were too many things he wanted to ask. How she’d been. Why she left the way she did.

Most of all, he wanted to know how could she end things so cleanly without a fight.

Back then, all he was asking was for her to hear him out.

But now…it was like that door had long been closed.

The silence between them stretched until the door creaked open.

“Ah, there you two are.”

Minato stepped in with his usual ease, eyes bright as ever. He looked between them, a slow smile spreading across his face. 

“It’s been a while since I saw the two of you in the same room. Last time, if I remember it right, you were still arguing over who should present first in that project with Naruto.”

Sakura stood politely, offering a respectful bow. “Good afternoon, Hokage-sama.”

Sasuke gave a curt nod. “Sir.”

Minato chuckled as he walked further, waving a hand. “Don’t be so formal. You kids made a mess of my office back then. I’m pretty sure there was glitter involved.”

Sakura allowed herself a small laugh, remembering that the glitter explosion then was partly her fault.

The tension in the room didn’t fully lift, but it softened in the wake of the Hokage’s presence.

However, for Sasuke, the reminder of that old memory felt like a contrast to what they had now. Back then, things were simpler.

Now, everything had edges.

Still, Sakura was grateful for the interruption. She could navigate lunch beside Naruto’s father. She could even pretend everything was fine.

While Sasuke… he quietly followed them out of the room. Knowing that this whole thing just opened a door he wasn’t ready to walk through.

Three weeks later, life settled into a rhythm for Sakura. She was back at KUMC, reporting for her clinic hours from Monday to Friday. The familiar halls and the white wall gave her comfort, even if she misses Suna.

Even if the pace of her life in Konoha felt heavier than before.

She hadn’t told her godmother, Dr. Senju, about her plan to leave by the end of the year. Not yet. She hasn’t gathered the balls yet to tell the woman who raised her right after her parents died that she’s leaving again.

And this time it’s for good.

She wanted to move somewhere else, maybe a small town, open a small clinic, and disappear from the chaos of Konoha.

But most of all, she wanted to be somewhere far away from Sasuke.

They couldn’t share the same space anymore. And despite how big the city was, it feels too small for them. Especially when every accidental glance felt like a weight she couldn’t bear. Not when a single slip could reveal what she had been protecting all this time.

Her daughter.

Sakura planned to keep Sarada away from the man who could take her. The man, who if he knew the truth, wouldn’t hesitate to assert the right she had denied him.

Sasuke had always been calm and composed. But she knew how ruthless he could be when he wanted something. And if he decided to take Sarada, Sakura wasn’t sure she could stop him.

That was the thought that kept her up at night, the one she carried everyday, pretending her life was perfectly fine.

‘If I had stayed with him, would things be different?’

The thought remained at the back of Sakura’s mind, no matter how much she tried to bury it.

If she had stayed, Sarada would have had a complete family—the kind she once longed for, the one she was deprived of. She would have grown up with a father, a name that goes all the way from when Konoha was founded, and a house that felt whole.

But deep down, she knew the cost.

Giving Sasuke a chance meant gambling with her own heart, and the fear that she would end up like her mother never left her.

Her mother had pretended for years that everything was fine. She smiled at neighbors, played the role of a loving wife, and carried herself like they were a happy family. But Sakura had noticed the distance, the way her father’s eyes wandered, and the hushed arguments muffled behind closed doors.

They kept that fragile facade until the night the car crash took both of their lives, leaving Sakura with the memory of a house that was never truly a home.

She couldn’t let her daughter grow up watching her make the same mistake. 

Not with Sasuke.

Not when the cracks between them had already broken once.

However, Sakura’s plans to leave Konoha shattered the moment her child’s grandmother stepped into her office.

She was expecting a nurse or a patient when the door opened. Instead, Mikoto Uchiha stepped inside. She wasn’t livid, but there was a heaviness in her face that made Sakura’s chest tighten.

Without a word at first, Mikoto set a brown manila envelope on the desk. “How could you?” she said quietly, her tone more weary than furious.

Sakura hesitated before opening it. Inside were photos of Sarada—at the park, outside their apartment, holding her favorite cat plushie. 

Her fingers trembled slightly as she set the paper down.

“You can’t deny it, Sakura-chan.” Mikoto said, her voice was firm but not unkind. “I don’t even need a DNA test to know she’s my granddaughter.”

Mikoto slid an old baby picture on her table. It was Sasuke at two years old, sitting in his mother’s lap, dark eyes wide, a familiar pout on his face.

Sakura’s gaze fell on the photo, and her chest tightened. The resemblance was undeniable, and seeing it laid out like that left her without words.

“I wish you hadn’t kept her from us,” Mikoto went on, her tone gentler now. “From Sasuke too. He deserves to know his daughter…and Sarada deserves to know her father.”

Sakura stayed silent, her fingers at the edge of the photo, unsure how to explain the fear that had kept her silent all these years.

The Uchiha matriarch sat across from her, folding her hands on the desk. 

“I saw her twice in Suna,” she said, “At the hospital lobby and at the airport. I couldn’t stop thinking about her after that.” Mikoto’s voice was steady, but there was a trace of guilt in her tone.

“I’m sorry for hiring someone to look into your life,”Mikoto continued. “I had to be sure. And when the photos came back…I knew. She’s my grandchild.”

Sakura’s chest tightened as she listened. It’s true that she wanted to keep her daughter from Sasuke, but seeing her almost-mother in law like this, she wanted to berate herself for not telling her at least.

“Do you want to meet her?”

“Yes,” Mikoto answered. “I’d like to meet my grandbaby!”

Sakura hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Alright… but please don’t tell anyone. Especially Sasuke-kun.”

The ebony-haired lady let out a sigh. “Sakura-chan, I can’t keep this from my son forever. I’m not asking the two of you to start over or fix what’s broken. All I want is for Sarada to have both of her parents in his life. She deserves that much.”

Sakura’s fingers curled on her lap. She knew Mikoto was right, but the thought of facing Sasuke again this time with the truth terrified her.

A few days after seeing Sasuke’s mother again, Sakura found herself distracted at work, her thoughts circling the same question over and over.

How was she supposed to tell her ex that they had a daughter? Even thinking about it made her chest tighten as she imagined the questions he would ask and the accusations he might throw.

She feared that Sasuke wouldn’t hear her out, that he would shut her off the way she once did to him—back when he had been asking her to listen, and she turned away instead.

The memory still sat heavy in her mind. She had walked away without giving him the chance to explain, because she was sure it was the only way to protect herself. Now, she wondered if she had set the stage for how he would respond when the truth finally came out.

But for now, she had more immediate concerns. She needed to contact the agency again to find a new nanny for her three-year old because Tamaki had quit unexpectedly, explaining that she had to return to her hometown.

Her grandmother had passed away, leaving their family’s farm in her care. Unfortunately, it wasn’t something Sakura could argue with. Tamaki had been good to Sarada, and she wished her well, but it still left her scrambling to find a new nanny.

All she could do for now was leave her toddler at a daycare so she could run to the grocery and take care of a few other errands. Luckily, this mall in in Upstate Konoha had a daycare with solid reviews, which eased her worries enough to give it a try.

While checking items off her grocery list,  Sakura was on the aisle of canned tomatoes when she turned a corner and nearly walked into someone.

“Dr. Haruno?” She looked up, it was her senior from when she was still a resident.

“Dr. Sasori! It’s been a while.”

It had been years since she last saw him, it was before she flew to Suna for the hospital exchange program. After that, she hasn’t heard anything from Dr. Sasori. Only when Shizune caught her up on what she missed, she found out that he quit the hospital and opened his own practice.

They spoke briefly about work and how the hospital changed while she was in Suna.

“It’s good to see you again,” Sasori said. “We should catch up properly. How about a coffee after you finish here?”

Sakura smiled politely. “That sounds nice. But do you mind if I pick up my daughter first? She’s at the daycare here in the mall.”

That was when Sasori’s brows rose slightly. “You have a daughter?”

“I do, she just turned three last month.”

Her former colleague didn’t press after that. He didn’t even ask if she was married. 

Sakura had always found him a little odd, quite eccentric in his own way, but in that moment, it was strangely reassuring. He wasn’t prying nor fishing for details. 

He even said that he’s coming with her to pickup Sarada.

They made their way to the daycare. 

The moment Sakura stepped inside, Sarada spotted her and ran over, her little arms reaching high.

Sakura’s face softened instantly. She bent down, scooping her up and settling her comfortably on her hip. “How are you, sweetie? Have you been good?” she asked, pressing a trail of quick, playful kisses into her daughter’s hair. Sarada giggled, curling her arms around her mother’s neck.

Sakura shifted her daughter slightly on her hip and smiled. “Mama’s going to introduce you to someone,” she said gently.

Sarada tilted her head. “Is it Papa?”

Her chest tightened, but she kept her tone light. “No, sweetie. It’s Mama’s friend.” She turned toward the door where Sasori was waiting.

That was when a familiar voice called from behind her.

“Sakura-chan?”

She turned and saw Hinata standing a few feet away, a little boy with golden hair who’s practically Naruto’s mini-me, and Naruto himself standing right beside her.

Naruto straightened, his eyes flicking between Sakura and the little girl in her arms. “So…what’s her name?”

“Sarada,” Sakura answered, keeping her tone light.

He nodded slowly, but there was something in his look that told her he was connecting the dots. “She’s cute. How old is—“

“—Naruto-kun,” Hinata interrupted gently, touching his arm, “we should get going.”

Naruto glanced at his wife, then back at Sakura, clearly wanting to press further. But Hinata’s insistence won out, and he just gave Sakura a short nod. “Yeah… I guess, we’ll see you around, Sakura-chan.”

Sakura only smiled in response and watched as the walk away. Only when they were out sight did she let out the breath she’d been holding.

Uchiha Manor—Upper East Side, Konoha

Filial piety ran deeply in the Uchiha family.

For generations, children were taught to honor their parents in both heart and mind, letting those values shape their actions.

As the youngest of the tenth generation of Uchiha, Sasuke spent much of his childhood under his grandfather’s care. His brother and cousins were older, their days filled with school clubs and after school activities, so it was often just the two of them.

That’s how Sasuke learned to play shogi. His grandfather was the one who taught him.

Shikamaru was still a better player than him, but still, he has something to bond with his grandfather who wasn’t himself most of the time.

Madara’s doctor at KUMC confirmed the diagnosis, it’s definitely dementia, and it was progressing quickly.

However, despite the diagnosis, Grandfather still played shogi as if he were in his prime, he moved his hands with ease, and his moves were deliberate. Each game unfolded with the same sharp intuition he had always been known for.

They were playing shogi in the gazebo in the garden, the afternoon air carrying faint scent of blossoms. Beside them, a sakura tree stood in full bloom, its branches swaying gently.

A single petal drifted down, landing on the board. Madara reached it for it, turning it between his wrinkled fingers. “Pretty,” he murmured.

Then his gaze shifted to Sasuke. “Are you happy, Sasuke?” he asked, his tone calm but weighted with meaning.

Sasuke’s eyes widened in disbelief. ‘How could grandfather ask something like that?’ He wondered. But then, he concluded that this was what his illness does to him.

Madara had always been stern, aloof even. Their bond existed almost entirely over the shogi board. Occasionally, he would ask about work or the cases Sasuke was handling—but that was the extent of their conversations. He was never one for philosophical or complicated questions like this.

Sasuke couldn’t think of an answer.

How was he supposed to respond when happiness slipped away from his grasp the day his wedding never happened? He had been certain of a future with Sakura, certain enough to believe they would build a family together. But then—

‘Do you still want to do this? This. Us. The Wedding. Because I’m not so sure anymore.’

Her words played on a loop on his head whenever he thought about her and what could have been.

What could have been if he had noticed the cracks in their relationship in the first place. If he had, maybe he could have fixed them before everything fell apart.

Sasuke barely noticed how the game was slipping away from him. His mind was still caught on his grandfather’s question, replaying it over and over while he moved his pieces on instinct.

Meanwhile, Madara played with the same precision he always had. Each move drew Sasuke further into a trap he didn’t see coming. By the time Grandfather advanced his bishop, the younger Uchiha’s king was already boxed in.

Two turns later, a gold general sealed his fate.

“Checkmate,” Madara declared smugly. As if the win had been inevitable right from the beginning.

Sasuke stayed silent, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He had to hand it to this old geezer—despite forgetting names, faces, and pieces of his own past sometimes, he still managed to win like it was nothing.

“Boy, you were too distracted.” Grandfather grumbled, setting the captured pieces back in their place. “Spilt water won’t go back into its tray.” He continued, his dark gray eyes meeting Sasuke’s, sharp and unyielding even in his age.

Sasuke frowned slightly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Madara leaned back, opening his mouth to reply. But before he could, Sasuke’s phone buzzed on the table. The screen lit up with Naruto’s name.

Sasuke answered the call, leaning back in his seat. “What is it?”

“Hey bastard, I saw Sakura-chan at the mall.” Naruto didn’t even bother with a “hello” like a civilized, normal person.

“She’s been back in Konoha for weeks.” Sasuke replied evenly.

There was a pause before Naruto asked, “So…are you planning anything? You know, to win her back?”

Sasuke brows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because if you are,” Naruto responded slowly, “you might be a little too late.”

Sasuke’s grip on the phone tightened. “What do you mean by that?”

“I think she’s seeing someone,” The dimwit explained. “She had a daughter with her—and there was a guy waiting for them outside the daycare when I saw her.”

Sasuke’s jaw tensed, his mind turning over the word. “I see.”

But Naruto, ever the dimwit, kept taking. “You know what’s weird thought? That kid…she kinda looks like you. Same eyes, same hair—if I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was yours.”

He froze for a moment, the words catching in his head. A daughter who looks like him.

Sasuke ended the call, setting the phone down on the table beside the shogi board. Grandfather was already resetting the pieces for another game, but Sasuke’s focus was elsewhere.

‘A daughter who looks like me.’

The idea settled itself in his mind, stubborn and heavy. He thought back to three years ago—the last night he and Sakura were together before everything fell apart. He was sure he’d been careful, but the memory wasn’t clear anymore with the small details slipping away.

It wasn’t impossible.

And if it was true…why would she keep it from him?

He didn’t want to believe Naruto’s words without proof, but the more he thought about it, the more he needed answer.

But if Naruto was right, storming in with accusations would only make her shut him out completely. He needed to be sure before he said anything.

It was Thursday when Sakura called Ino to ask if she could watch Sarada for a few days. Dr. Senju had just informed her that she was invited to a medical conference in Iwagakure, and there’s no way she could turn it down—not when talks about Konoha University Medical Center building an improved version of the children’s center she pioneered in Suna were gaining traction in the medical community.

“You know I’ll do it,” Ino said without hesitation. “And I’m already thinking of outfits for Sara-chan!”

Sakura gave a small laugh. “Just don’t overdo it, Pig.”

“Too late, Forehead girl,” Ino teased. “When are you leaving?”

“Saturday morning,”Sakura replied.

“Perfect! Drop her off tomorrow night.”

Sakura was relieved. She was going to ask Mikoto-san if she could watch her daughter for a few days—surely, she won’t hesitate to say yes. But…that would mean bringing her daughter closer to Sasuke.

He still didn’t know about Sarada, and Sakura intended to keep it that way.

At least until she was ready.

The conference in Iwagakure was everything Sakura expected. Long hours of talks, networking, and panel discussions about integrating new models into existing healthcare system. During socials, there were attendees who asked about the children’s health center in Suna.

Still, no matter how engaging the sessions and insights from fellow doctors were, her eyes drifted to her phone every time it buzzed.

Ino sent her almost hourly updates about Sarada like photos of her eating breakfast, videos of her chasing Ino’s cat, snapshots of her wearing another boutique dress, and some photos of Sarada and her grandmother, Mikoto, in the mall.

Sasuke’s mother had initiated the almost weekly playdates with Sarada, which Sakura couldn’t refuse. Not when the fear of her ex finding about the daughter that she’s been hiding always loomed in the corner.

By the second day of the conference, she was already counting down the hours until she could go. Between sessions, Sakura called her best friend and asked to speak with her darling girl.

“Hi, baby,” Sakura greeted warmly. “Mama’s coming home soon. Do you want Mama to bring you a new doll?”

There was a pause on the other end, then Sarada’s small voice replied, “Papa!”

Sakura froze. “Papa?”

Sarada giggled, like it was the most obvious answer in the world. 

Her daughter had a vague concept of what a father was. 

All Sarada knew was what her mother had told her in little bedtime stories she made up. Tales where her papa was a prince charming who had to fight off dragons and bad guys before he could come home to them.

It was just a fantasy, something sweet to make Sasuke’s absence from her life seem less real.

But hearing Sarada say it now made Sakura’s chest ache in a way she couldn’t quite name.

After four days in Iwagakure, Sakura was finally home.

She could hardly remember how she got there—leaving the train station, calling a cab—it was all a blur. Her body felt heavy, her bones aching like she’d spent days working under a scorching sun, plowing fields instead of attending lectures and panel discussions. It was that kind of tired.

Still, the moment she stepped into her apartment and saw Sarada waiting by the door, all dressed up in a red frilly dress Ino had clearly picked, the exhaustion softened.

“Mama!” Sarada’s little arms shot up, her cat plushie dangling from one hand.

Sakura dropped her bag and scooped her up, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I missed you, baby.”

“I saw Papa!” Sarada announced proudly.

Sakura blinked, leaning back to look at her. “You…saw Papa?”

“On tee-bee!” Sarada grinned. “Mama say Papa is…prince shar-ming.”

Sakura exhaled slowly, relief washing over her. Silently grateful that it wasn’t the real thing and she had dodged a bullet once again.

But as she carried her daughter toward the couch, the thought stayed at the back of her mind. How long could she keep this up before the truth caught up with them?”

The following weekend, Sakura took her daughter to the Hashirama Senju Park in the Upper East Side Konoha. It was busy enough to feel alive, as there were children running around, old folks doing yoga, and an art class led by a man who strangely looked like her former classmate, Sai.

Mikoto had texted her the exact spot she reserved for the picnic, and Sakura was looking forward to letting her baby girl run while they sat under the clear skies.

After Mikoto confronted her about Sarada, the Uchiha matriarch never asked again if she had told Sasuke about her daughter. Sakura never asked why. She was just grateful the subject had been left alone, because even now she couldn’t find the words—couldn’t imagine how to tell him everything without reopening the wounds she had worked so hard to close.

Sakura pushed the stroller along the paved path. Sarada was babbling to herself, clutching her cat plushie in one hand. They were a few turns away from the grassy spot Mikoto claimed when a familiar voice called her name.

“Sakura?”

Her head turned before she could stop herself.

It was Shisui. He was drenched in sweat and was panting as he crouched down to catch his breath.

He headed toward her with that same grin he’d always had, and behind him two familiar figures trailed.

Itachi and Sasuke, whose eyes met hers instantly.

She thought about veering off to another path, pretending she hadn’t heard. But Shisui’s gaze had already dropped to the stroller.

He leaned forward, curiosity flashing across his face.

“If I didn’t know any better,” he said with a smirk, “I’d assume we’re related.”

Sasuke came to a stop beside Shisui, his gaze following the direction of his cousin’s smirk.

Sarada peeked at him from behind her plushie. Her big dark eyes meeting his for only a moment before she buried her face again. Something in his chest tightened, and without thinking, he stepped closer to get a better look.

Sakura’s hand subtly shifted on the stroller handle. Her posture stiffened as she thought, ‘He noticed.’ How could he not? One look at Sarada was enough—the same eyes, the same lines of his family etched into her face.

“W-we should go.” Her voice was almost rushed as she began to angle the stroller away.

“You’re not going anywhere, Sakura.” Sasuke said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

She froze, the weight of his stare pressing against her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Itachi glance between them before speaking. “I think we should give them some space.”

Shisui looked like he was about to protest but caught the edge in Itachi’s voice. “Right, sure,” he muttered as he stepped back.

“We should talk.” Sasuke said, his voice cutting through the noise of the park.

Sakura’s grip on the stroller handle tightened. She met his gaze despite the pounding in her chest. “Are you sure that you want to do this now?”

Sasuke only glared in response.

Taking that as a yes, Sakura continued. “Fine, let’s talk.”

She pulled her phone out from her pocket and called his mother and asked if she could come and take Sarada for a while.

Within minutes, Mikoto arrived. She couldn’t look at her son, whose eyes were locked on her.

The Uchiha matriarch knelt beside the stroller to see her granddaughter. 

“You knew?”

Mikoto looked at him, something heavy in her gaze. “I’m sorry,” was all she said before leading Sarada away.

The moment they disappeared from sight, Sasuke reached Sakura’s wrist. His grip wasn’t rough, just firm enough that she couldn’t just walk away.

He led her down a narrow path lined with tall hedges, away from the crowds and the open lawns, until they reached a secluded corner of the park where the hum of distant voices felt far away.

Sasuke turned to face her fully, his eyes where sharp and his shoulders were tense. “When are you going to tell me?”

His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the edge behind it.

But Sakura only looked away, not intending to answer his question.

“Answer me, Sakura.” 

Sakura didn’t flinch. “If I told you back then, what would you have done?”

“I would’ve been there,” he answered without hesitation.

She let out a bitter laugh. “How could you say that? Your heart wasn’t even mine! How could you possibly commit to me and a child you didn’t ask for, Sasuke?”

“Is that how little you think of me?” His jaw tightened. “You don’t get to decide what I would or wouldn’t have done. She’s my daughter too, and you kept her from me for three years.”

“You think it was easy?” she shot back, her voice trembled as fought the tears that were about to fall from her face. “You couldn’t even give yourself fully to me. I couldn’t gamble her life on the same uncertainty. I needed someone who would show up every day, not just when it was convenient.”

“I could’ve been that,” he said, stepping closer. “And now I will be. If you think I’m walking away from my daughter, you’re wrong.”

Sakura’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“It means I’ll fight if I have to,” he replied, his voice icy. “You know I could get full custody. You know I can win easily.”

Her breath caught, but she refused to look away. 

Not this time.

“And that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. You’re just a ruthless bastard aren’t you, Sasuke? You think that threats like that would fix everything.”

His eyes darkened, but he didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

“What do you want me to do then? You deliberately hid my daughter for years, Sakura.” 

She tightened her arms around herself, her voice steady despite the weight in he chest. “I want you to understand why I did it. You would’ve treated her like a responsibility and I wasn’t going to let her grow up feeling like an obligation to you.”

“You don’t get to decide what kind of father I would’ve been.” He shot back.

“And you don’t get to erase the fact that you’re still in love with someone else while you were with me,” she countered. “If I didn’t have all of you, how could I trust you with her?”

They stood locked in place, her words replaying in his head like a sharp echo. ‘You’re still in love with someone else while you were with me.’

Sasuke didn’t argue. A part of him wanted deny it and tell her that she was wrong, but he couldn’t. Because deep down, he knew Sakura hadn’t said it to win the fight.

She had said it because that was how she saw him back then, and he’d given her enough reason to believe it.

The silence that followed was heavy, neither of them moving. Sasuke’s gaze turned to Sakura, her expression was still guarded, but her shoulders weren’t as tense—as if she was ready to walk away again.

And he wasn’t going to let that happen.

“All i want is to be part of my daughter’s life,” Sasuke said. 

At the back of his mind, he wanted to tell her, ‘And yours too, if you’ll allow it.’ 

But this wasn’t the time.

He yearned for her when she left, but there was a part of him that couldn’t shake off the bitterness inside him.

Sakura walked beside Sasuke toward the grassy spot where Mikoto sat on a picnic blanket. Her first instinct was to run and take Sarada, move into a place far enough from Sasuke…but then, it would only be a matter of time before finds them again. He would, in a heartbeat, now that he expressed his intent to take advantage of his family’s power and influence.

There’s no use hiding now and she could kiss her plans to move out of Fire Country goodbye for good. 

Her gaze drifted to Sarada, who was seated on her grandmother’s lap, munching on small pieces of fruit from a container.

“Hey, baby,” Sakura called softly as they approached. “Did you have fun with Grandma?” 

“Uh-huh! We ate stwabewwies!” Sarada said proudly, holding her up her sticky fingers.

Mikoto smiled, through her eyes shifted briefly to Sasuke before focusing on her granddaughter again. “Sara-chan was a good girl the whole time,” she caressed the little girl’s face, “Aren‘t you, my dear?”

Sakura crouched down, wiping her daughter’s hands. “Sweetheart, Mama wants you to meet someone.” She glanced at Sasuke, then back to Sarada. “This is your papa.”

Sarada blinked, then looked at her mother. “Papa?” she repeated softly.

Sasuke crouched to meet her gaze. “I’m your papa.”

She studied him for a moment before asking, “Are you done fightin’ dwagons and bad guys? Mama said…when you’re done, you can come home.”

Sakura’s eyes widened slightly, colors rising in her cheeks. “Sarada—“she started, but Sasuke glanced at her briefly before turning back to their daughter.

“I think I’m done, and I’m here now.”

Sarada, who seemed satisfied with his answer, reached out her hand toward him. Sasuke hesitated only a second before taking it gently.

Her hand was tiny, but it was warm. She could be his whole world—she would have been his whole world had he known her existence from the beginning. Sakura could have told him, she should have told him about Sarada.  

Holding his daughter’s hand for the first time caught him off guard, a strange flutter tightening in his chest. He wouldn’t let that small hand slip away again. 

Chapter Text

Sasuke had never liked children before, and there was a time in his life when he considered them little goblins sent to be a complete menace. But Sarada…she was different. She had been nothing short of an angel. At her age, she already knew how to wield her “puppy eyes” and perfect little pout to bend people—especially him, to her will.

She looked so much like him that his family jokingly called her his girl version. But every time Sasuke looked closer at his daughter’s face, he saw Sakura in her. The curve of her lashes, the soft warmth in her gaze—it was her mother’s eyes through and through.

And when Sarada smiles, it was like watching Sakura’s younger version all over again.

Sometimes, he catches himself staring too long, wondering how he had gone three whole years without even knowing she existed. But as he looked at his daughter, happily gobbling up the frozen yogurt ice cream he’d secretly bought her, Sasuke thought he could still make up for the years he missed.

They were at the mall upstate, sitting on a bench outside the grocery. Sarada sat beside him, her little legs were swinging as she finished the rest of her frozen yogurt, and her mouth rimed with a smear of pink from the strawberry swirl.

Sasuke checked the time. Sakura had told him that she wouldn’t take long, but it had been over an hour since she went inside the grocery. He didn’t mind actually. If anything, he’d hoped she’d take longer. That way, she wouldn’t see how easily he caved when Sarada pointed to the strawberry frozen yogurt and said “please” with those wide, pleading eyes.

He didn’t stand a chance.

He was doing fine—except for the part where he wasn’t supposed to say yes all the time. Even when Sarada used that look on him.

For the past two months, this had become their routine. Whenever his ex had errands to run, medical conferences to attend, or hospital shifts that stretched longer than expected, he’d be the one to watch their daughter.

Both of them had been exerting their best effort to keep things civil. As for Sasuke’s part, he’d been really…trying to see things from Sakura’s perspective.

However, there are times he couldn’t let go of the thought that she had deliberately kept his daughter from him. It wasn’t easy to comprehend the logic behind her decision not to include him in their daughter’s life.

“Papa!” Sasuke’s impatient mini-me flailed her chubby little arms, trying to get him to feed her the rest of the yogurt.

That sent him back to reality.

Sasuke was still wiping a smear of yogurt off his daughter’s cheek when Sakura went toward them, pushing a cart filled with grocery bags.

“Sorry, the lines were longer than I thought.”

Sarada lit up. “Mama!”

Sakura leaned down to kiss her daughter’s forehead. “Did you behave for Papa?”

Sarada nodded proudly, her mouth still full. “Papa buy me yogurt!”

Sakura arched an eyebrow at Sasuke, who only looked away.

”I see,” she said, “So much for ‘no snacks’ before dinner, huh.” but her tone was more amused than annoyed.

He didn’t answer.

They walked in silence along a throng of shoppers making their way across the mall for the three-day sale.

Sasuke watched them—his daughter in her mother’s arms—and he found himself wondering, not for the first time, how it would it feel like if they hadn’t turned out like this. If they weren’t passing time between handoffs and pretending the space between them didn’t still ache.

Right now, they seemed like they were a picture perfect family, the kind that spends their weekend together. Like right now. However, they wouldn’t be together if Sarada had not been fussy earlier, throwing a tantrum earlier because she wanted her mother to join them on their “daddy-daughter” date.

Sasuke didn’t want to miss his day with his daughter, that’s why he suggested that Sakura could come with them. She wasn’t keen to the idea at first, but in the end she agreed.

By the time they reached Sakura’s apartment, their little girl had already fallen asleep in the back seat with her head slumped gently to one side.

Sasuke rounded the car and opened the door, careful as he unbuckled Sarada and gathered her in his arms. She stirred once, her small fingers curled into his shirt, then settled again with a soft sigh.

Sakura held the door for them, stepping aside as he carried their daughter in.

The apartment was dim as the golden hour’s light slipped through the curtains. It smelled faintly of laundry, cherry blossom scented—that reminded him so much of how her clothes smelled back then. The comforting scent that he had always known.

He brought Sarada to her bedroom. Inside, the walls were lined with plushies and stuffed animal in all shapes and sizes. But her favorite, the black and white spotted cat she never went without, was propped on her pillow.

Sasuke laid her gently on the bed while Sakura pulled the covers up to her chin and brushed a strand of hair from their daughter’s face.

”Thanks for today,” Sakura said softly, turning to him. “Sarada really looks forward to your Saturdays.”

”I do too.”

For a second, neither of them moved. The silence settled between them again, but it’s not awkward nor tense—it was just full of everything that neither of them had said since this whole thing started.

”I should get going,” Sasuke said, though he didn’t make a move for the door.

”Right, it’s a long drive back.” Sakura gave a small smile, that kind that didn’t reach her eyes.

He looked at her and for a second, it felt like the version of her he used to know, the one who whose stole glances at him in school, was standing right there.

Then he turned, walking down the hallway, past the photos on the wall and past the life that had gone without him.

And as the door closed behind him, the ache in his chest tightened, because it wasn’t just Sarada he missed when he left.

It never was.

When Monday came, Konoha’s city hall was busier than usual. It wasn’t one those Manic Mondays—this was different in a bad PR kind of way.

The Public Information Office could not contain the attacks against the Hokage and the council over the news articles about the children’s health center, which was slated for a ground breaking ceremony after the budget was approved, despite Torune’s refusal to sign the supplementary budget.

Sasuke massaged his temples as Izumi, his sister-in-law and the city’s public information officer, reported the citizens’ impression on the center and the video posted by Danzo’s camp, that was being circulated online.

His sister-in-law didn't bother sitting, Izumi had just returned back to work after giving birth, but there she was, standing in front of the Hokage and his close-in staff, and Itachi also, her husband and council member who was poised to be the next Hokage after Minato Namikaze's term.

Izumi was fiddling through her iPad's settings as she was trying to project her Powerpoint to the monitor through screen share. As soon as it was connected, the headlines from various online news network and even headlines from major television networks flashed to the screen.

"The Hokage's Latest PR Stunt: A Vanity Project"

"Tracking Minato Namikaze's Campaign Promises, The Poor Remains Forgotten"

Those are some of the headlines posted online, most of them were leaning toward disinformation. "Danzo's team has becoming more aggressive with the attacks online," Izumi stated.

Sasuke on the other hand, sat back on his chair, his arms  were crossed as he listened, thinking of the possible legal actions they could take against that horrid man without looking like they were playing the victim.

Izumi switched to the next slide, zooming in to one of the articles published by Konoha Daily News.

"If the Hokage and his council really cared about the people, they'd increase the social amelioration program and cut useless expenditures. The city already boasts the best healthcare in the great nations. The citizens of Konoha need full bellies, not another hospital."

She pointed to the quote of Danzo's spokesperson, Kido Tsumiki. Minato was calm, but it was the kind of calm that only came before a storm. 

"They're framing the city's project as an extravagance."

"Danzo's camp is twisting the narrative, worse, Kido's statement insinuates that the children's center is being used to 'beautify the administrations' legacy' while people in the lower district can't even afford rice and decent housing." 

"They're ignoring the facts," Itachi said flatly, standing near the display board that showed the floor plan of the proposed center. "Public health access is the highest it's ever been. As a matter of fact, Konoha ranks first among the five great nations in child immunization and maternal care. But that's not what trends online."

The Hokage remained silent, his fingers steepled under his chin. He was known to listen more first more than he spoke, a stark contrast to his son, Naruto who was vocal in expressing his frustration.

"They're saying that we don't care about the poor, nor the lower district. When the truth is, we are building this center because we care. If Danzo had his way, those kids would be out on the streets!"

It wasn't a far-fetched or unfounded assumption. Danzo Shimura, when he was a council member, had previously tried to lobby for the lowering the age of criminal liability to the Fire Country's Daimyo. More than that, he even pushed for a wall to be built around the city for security reasons, when in reality, it was move to limit the presence of foreigners and immigrants in Konoha.

"We are not going to respond to the slander," Minato declared. "This is about showing the people the truth, that's why we'll push through with the schedule of the groundbreaking."

"Sir, how about the media presence?" Izumi asked, ready to take note of the hokage's directives.

"Full," Minato replied. "And I want Dr. Haruno to be there. Let the public hear from the woman who actually built the model in Suna."

"Got it, Hokage-sama. I'll coordinate with Sakura-chan."

"There's no need, I'll talk to her." Sasuke blurted, almost too quickly.

Naruto gave him a look, his eyebrows were raised as his mouth twitched. His face made him look more of a tanuki instead of a fox.

"Should I not email her, then?"

Sasuke didn't answer right away, he just looked back at Naruto with a glare that said don't start. 

Itachi, who had been quiet in the corner quipped nonchalantly, "Don't tease him, Naruto-kun, he gets defensive."

Sasuke scowled. "I'm not defensive."

Naruto laughed under his breath. "Sure, bastard. Whatever you say."

Sasuke exhaled sharply through his nose, already regretting opening his mouth. Those two had always been relentless whenever they teamed up against him, it would be waste of energy if he argued with them.

Sakura saw the livestream on her feed. It had recently racked up thousand of views, with a flood of comments pouring faster than she could read. Most weren't kind, some called the center unnecessary, while other echoed the talking points of Danzo's spokesperson, Kido. He stated that the city should prioritize subsidies over projects that weren't designed to benefit all.

'Does he not know that projects directed at children benefits all?' She thought as she wondered where that guy got the audacity to dismiss the city's children's right to access that would ensure their overall well-being.

The pink-haired doctor reached for her phone, already thinking of calling Sasuke, when it rang in her hand. His name lit up the screen, it's like he read her mind.

"She answered immediately. "I saw it," she stated, skipping the greeting.

"I figured you did," he ex replied. "Naruto already called a meeting, while Izumi and the hokage's social media team were putting together a video explainer about the center, what's in it and how it's going to benefit the city."

Sakura leaned back to her swivel chair, rubbing her forehead.

"We need you in the meeting," he added. "It's later this afternoon, so I'll pick you up around three...if you'd like to join us."

Sakura knows that there's no reason for her to be there, now that the council's majority had already passed an ordinance for the city's supplemental budget, which will cover the first phase of the center. 

"How about Sarada? Who’s going to take her home?”

"I'll ask my mother to pick her up."

Mikoto would be over the moon if she could spend time with Sarada. The Uchiha matriarch had been the most doting grandmother to her daughter. But then... saying yes to Sasuke would mean working with him and seeing him more than weekends, when he comes to pick up their daughter.

Sakura sighed, contemplating whether she should choose her comfortable distance with her ex over doing what's going to benefit the city.

However, in the end she replied, "Alright, I'll see you later." Unable to resist the urge to do one more good deed, just like how her mother taught her to. Mebuki Haruno, despite her unhappy marriage, did her absolute best to be a strong figure in Sakura's life. She taught her only daughter to always choose what's best for her community and to be selfless, unlike her husband whose eyes wandered all the time.

After the call ended, Sakura didn't move for a while.

It just hit her that aside from her ex picking her up, Izumi-senpai will be there too.

It wasn't that she didn't trust her former high school senior who had always been kind to her, it's just that there were shadows that hadn't left Sakura at all, not completely. Because there were still memories that cut too loose.

She glanced at the clock on the wall and let out a deep breath. She was already behind her schedule, so whatever thoughts she had about Sasuke and Izumi would have to wait.

Sakura pressed the intercom button and said, "You can send the first patient now."

Her patients were waiting and they need her full attention. Not thoughts about her ex and whatever past they had.

It was past three in the afternoon when her clinic hours ended because there as a surge of unexpected walk-in patients and she couldn't just announce through her secretary that she would not be seeing all of them so they would have to reschedule.

Sasuke had texted her that he was waiting in the lobby, and knowing him, he was probably wondering what was taking her so long. She saw the message twenty minutes ago but didn't reply, thinking that she'd be done with the consultations by then. But the patients keep coming, and by the time she wrapped up with the last one, her head was starting to ache and her stomach was painfully aware she hadn't eaten lunch.

She grabbed her coat and slung her bag over her shoulder, making her way out of the consultation room.

The lobby was quieter now that the afternoon rush had passed. Sakura scanned the area and spotted Sasuke right away. But before she could call out to him, a familiar voice beat her to it.

"Sakura, there you are!" It was Dr. Senju, stepping beside her. "Just in time, I wanted to introduce you to someone...well, again."

Sakura turned, her breath hitched slightly when she saw who stood next to her godmother.

"Dr. Sasori," she greeted her senior, trying not to sound surprised. "It's been a while" That last time she had seen him was months ago, at the mall where they had met unexpectedly.

"Too long," he smiled. "Dr. Senju told me that you've been helping the city build the children's center since you got back. I figured I'd bump into you again."

They talked for a moment about how different the hospital was since they were both residents and how Sakura helped his hometown, by setting up the first model of the center there.

Across the lobby, Sasuke stood still.

He hadn't moved since Sakura walked out, but something in his eyes darkened. He didn't recognize the red-haired man, but he didn't need to. The way she leaned in slightly when she smiled, the way the man's hand briefly touched her elbow when he chuckled, it was all too familiar.

He shouldn't be noticing all those things. After all...they weren't together.

He had no claim to Sakura and besides, they were only co-parenting their daughter.

Still, as he looked at them, something clenched in his chest.

Sasuke shifted his gaze, schooling his expression before Sakura could notice. When she walked toward him, he was already by the elevator, pretending he hadn't seen anything.

"Sorry I'm late," she said, catching up to him. "There were more patients than I expected."

"It's fine," he replied coolly, pressing the elevator button.

"You ready?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

They were having a meeting in a cafe on the outskirts of the city, away from prying eyes, and more importantly, Danzo's people. They could be anywhere, taking notes for their next livestream disguised as a "public service broadcast."

Whispers had been spreading around the city like wildfire: Danzo had tapped Kido Tsumiki, a former staff of Hiruzen Sarutobi, to act as his spokesperson. HIs job? To dig up or fabricate dirt on the current administration and twist the narrative just enough to shift public opinion. It was a calculated move to set the stage for the next general elections and put that old coot into power.

The cafe has a private room, more like a small function hall reserved for them. A long table sat in the middle, already occupied. Naruto was at the far end, his legs were casually kicked under the polished wood, scrolling through his phone.

Beside him were Konohamaru and Udon, Naruto's loyal tagalongs back in college. Sakura blinked. It had been years since she last saw those two, they were scrawny, shrimp-looking dweebs who used to follow Naruto around like ducklings. But upon a closer look at those two, they were still the same dweebs she knew back then.

"Sakura-senpai!" Konohamaru stood up, almost knocking over his cold brew. "Long time no see."

"Wow, Konohamaru, you grew half an inch. Congratulations!" She deadpanned, slipping in the seat across from him.

Udon offered a sheepish smile. "You look exactly the same, senpai."

Sasuke followed behind her, with that same neutral, nonchalant look on his face.

"Hey bastard, I didn't expect you to leave work just for a coffee date." Naruto teased with a devious grin on his face.

Sakura blinked.

"It's a meeting."

"Sure," Naruto grinned, finally locking his phone. "I'm just saying, if I left the office this early with someone pretty beside me, I'd get a lecture from Dad or a memo from the HR."

Sakura's cheeks flushed, instantly avoiding Sasuke's gaze. "You're unbelievable."

"Why are you blushing, Sakura-chan?"

"I'm not, idiot!"

Sasuke, on the other hand, didn't say anything. As if nothing of the ordinary was happening. But Sakura noticed that he didn't take the seat across from her, he sat beside her like it was the most natural thing to do, like that spot had always been his.

She said nothing. Heck, she didn't even glance at him, but knowing he deliberately picked the seat next to her, the fact that he was so close made her spine straighten a little. It was stupid that she was feeling this way.

They weren't anything, not anymore.

A moment later, Izumi stepped in, balancing an iced latte in one hand and her iPad on the other. She looked effortlessly put-together in her khaki midi skirt and white dress shirt, with its long sleeves neatly rolled up to her elbows.

The bags under her eyes were visible, but her face didn't look too tired. If anything, they gave her a more distinguished look, like someone who had everything in her life under control.

It had been a month since Sakura last saw Izumi. The last time was at the Uchiha residence, right after she gave birth to her first child with Itachi. A boy who, like his cousin, Sarada, had clearly inherited the striking features of the Uchiha family.

By then, Sarada has already been introduced to her paternal relatives. She had met her grandfather, along with Sasuke's cousins, Shisui and Obito. The meeting had been civil, thanks to Mikoto, who did her best to make the mood lighter despite how tense her husband, Fugaku, had been.

Fugaku Uchiha was conservative, and he made his disapproval known in the way patriarchs could. Through measured looks and pointed silences. He had expectations: a child born into the Uchiha name and parents bound by marriage, that's why he said the she and Sasuke should get married because it was the right thing to do.

Sakura wanted to protest and tell Sasuke's father that marriage is out of the table. Because marrying over a "shared responsibility" is not a right reason to tie themselves and resign to a life that's going to end up miserable. She knew that narrative all too well and she could not resign herself and her child to a life like she and her mother lived.

But she couldn't  bring herself to say anything that wouldn't feel like an apology or a pathetic excuse. After all, she never intended to apologize—she wasn't sorry that her choice brought Sarada without a father for three years, because she did everything she could to protect her daughter and fill the gap left by Sasuke's absence.

Izumi set her coffee down while she slid into the seat across from Sasuke.

"Guys, sorry I'm late. Hokage-sama wanted to finalize the details for the groundbreaking ceremony."

Sakura looked up and smiled. "No worries, Senpai. We just got here."

Naruto leaned back in his seat, stretching an arm behind Konohamaru's char. "I still don't get why Teme's here, though. Isn't this a communication planning session?"

"Dobe, I had to make sure that nobody sues your father because of you." Sasuke retorted. 

"Yes, Naruto-kun. He's Hokage-sama's legal officer. Technically, that makes him part of the core team too." Izumi added, giving him a pointed look.

"Nee-chan, you know he never shows up to stuff like this." The Hokage's son smirked. "Unless, of course, he had a reason to."

This time, Sakura shot him a look. "How about you stop acting like you're still twelve, idiot?"

Sasuke snorted. "She's right."

Naruto raised his both hands in surrender, but the teasing grin didn't leave his face. "Fine, fine. I'll behave."

Sakura smiled, shaking her head at the same time. Sasuke and Naruto had always been like that, even in high school they wouldn't stop bickering like their lives depended on who's going to win the argument, no matter how stupid it was.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Sasuke's lips twitched slightly—just enough to count as a smirk as Naruto continued to grumble under his breath about being ganged up by his father's executives.

Izumi turned her iPad toward the group. "Anyway, here's the sequence of the explainer video. Udon has a rough draft of the script, but I haven't reviewed it yet."

Udon handed out copies of the sequence. In the video, Sakura would be speaking with the facility's perspective plan in the background—introduced as the brainchild behind the children's therapy center in Suna and she would be explaning how Konoha plans to adapt it.

"Sounds like you're doing the heavy lifting, Sakura-chan." Naruto chimed in, as he looked over the two paged sequence.

"Well, she is the expert," Izumi added, tapping her pencil against her iPad.

Sakura caught the faintest smirk from Sasuke at Izumi-senpai's remark. She hadn't meant to notice, but from the moment the meeting began, she had felt the weight of his gaze beside her. From her peripheral view, she could see it—how he watched her speak, how his eyes traced her movement, as though he was memorizing every detail.

She feared that if she meets his eyes, he would devour her entirely—drag her into that familiar abyss where old feelings lurked, the ones that never never truly buried. The same dangerous pull that threated to rise again, because the space between them kept shrinking, and shrinking, and shrinking.

Sarada was already asleep by the time they arrived at Sasuke's place. His mother was there, watching her adorable grandbaby, curled up in her princess bed, one small hand resting on her cat plushie.

Sasuke stood by the door, his eyes lingered on their daughter.

Sakura glanced at him, catching the shift in his expression before looking at Sarada. His sharp gaze turned soft the moment he laid his eyes on their daughter, their darling girl—the proof that one point, they were something.

They had a future once, one that had almost taken her down the aisle.

"Oh good, you're both here." Mikoto said, rising from the love seat next to Sarada's bed. "There's dinner in the fridge if you are hungry." The Uchiha matriarch glided through the kitchen, ready to grab her apron and reheat the dinner she made.

"It's fine, Mother. We had dinner on the way back." Sasuke replied.

"Really? I'll head home then." Mikoto set the apron aside and went back to her granddaughter's room. "You don't have to drive me back home, Aoda's waiting for me in the parking lot." She moothed the blanket over Sarada before looking at them.

"Good night, you two."

The door closed behind her, leaving a stretch of silence between them.

"I'll take Sarada home." She stepped inside the room to pick up her daughter's things, avoiding Sasuke's gaze.

"Stay, it's already late." He spoke, without thinking. He didn't mean to, it was just a thought—but he blurted it out and it was too late to take it back.

"It's fine, I could book a ride." Sakura answered, keeping her focus on Sarada's things. 

He watched her for a moment, the tension between them stretching thin. "She's comfortable here." Sasuke's voice was lower now, more deliberate.

Sakura knew he was talking about Sarada, but something in his voice and the way he said it made her wonder if he meant her too.

She didn't want to stay—definitely not here and not with him. Her place was only less than an hour drive and with the light traffic in the area, it wouldn't even take forty-five minutes. But her gaze turned to Sarada who was curled up in bed, sleeping soundly. Waking her up would mean fussing and carrying her out into the night, trying to get her back to sleep.

It wasn't worth it, besides, she has an early shift at the hospital tomorrow.

That's was what she told herself, anyway.

"...Alright," she replied at last, the word leaving her mouth before she could change her mind.

Later, she found herself in the shower—the one in Sasuke's room, next to his walk-in closet. Through the door, he'd told her that she could borrow his clothes that's on his bottom drawer.

'Is it the one on the left or the right?'  She couldn't remember. Heck, she didn't even hear him clearly when he told her that.

The water ran over her skin, but the heat did little to ease the tension in her chest. She stayed in the shower longer than necessary, letting the sound of the running water fill the small space.

When she finally stepped out, wrapped in a while bathrobe, with a towel over hair, she padded into the closet. She scanned the rows of neatly arranged clothes, that are mostly black or blue, then she pulled the bottom drawer on the left open. 

She expected faded cotton shirts and worn hoodies, but that what she saw made her froze.

Everything inside the drawer were her clothes—the ones that she left when she stayed over.

The soft cardigan she always wore on cold mornings.

A shirt she thought she’d lost years ago.

Everything was folded carefully, as if they’d been waiting for her.

Her fingers brushed the cardigan, lifting it slightly. It still carried a faint trace of the detergent she used a long time ago, the scent pulling her back to mornings that felt like another lifetime. Those mornings where she’d wake up to find herself next to him, his arms draped around her waist.

“Did you find it?” Sasuke’s voice came from the other side of the door.

She didn’t answer.

“Hey, I’m coming in,” he said, and before she could respond, the door opened.

Sasuke stepped inside, his eyes going straight to her. His eyes followed her fingers, the way they paused on the cardigan as if it might slip away if she let go. He had kept it all this time, not out of sentiment—he used to tell himself, but because some part of him had always been waiting. Waiting for the day she would walk back into his life.

He could never bring himself to throw it out, because doing so would have felt like discarding everything they had been, and with it, the fragile hope that she’d find her way back to him.

“You kept it,” she said at last, her voice was soft but cutting straight through the silence.

Sasuke didn’t answer.

His gaze stayed on the fabric for a second longer, then without a word, he grabbed it from her and folded it neatly and slipped it back into the drawer. His movements were deliberate, careful—almost like he was sealing it away.

He closed the drawer with a soft click, then opened the one beside it. This time, he pulled out a plain shirt and a pair of cotton shorts, handing them to her without meeting her eyes.

“You can sleep on my bed,” he told her flatly, “I’ll sleep on the couch outside.”

Sasuke didn’t wait for her to respond. He slipped out of the room immediately, leaving her alone with the heavy silence—and with the unshakable question of how and why he had kept her things all these years.

Sakura set on the edge of the bed, the sheets were the hues of black and blue. ‘Typical Sasuke, he probably thinks other colors don’t exist.’ Her eyes drifted to the drawer he had shut moments ago, her things inside still pulsed with unanswered questions.

She reached for he phone and typed quickly. 

Sakura: Guess who’s sleeping in her ex’s place.

It didn’t even take a minute before her screen lit up.

Ino: No. Freaking. Way.

Ino: Why are you even there?

Sakura bit her lip before replying.

Sakura: Pig, it’s a long story. Also…I just found out he kept all my things.

A typing bubble appeared, disappeared, then came back again.

Ino:  Okay... Spill. Now.

Sakura: We were on a meeting earlier so I couldn't pick up Sarada from the daycare. Sasuke's mom picked her up instead and brought her to his place, the one in Upper East Side. Sarada was already asleep and I couldn't wake her up, you know how she gets. So Sasuke told me that we could stay.

Ino: Hmm... okay???  But who in their right mind would sleep in their ex's place?

Sakura: I wasn't in the right mind, go ahead and sue me, Pig.

Ino: I'm just kidding Forehead! No need to get your panties in a bunch.

Sakura rolled her eyes. Ino and Naruto had the same mission for the past two months, thinking that their endless teasing would just push her and Sasuke back together. But that’s not going to happen because this wasn’t a rom-com movie—this was reality, and two people who had a past together don’t get back together just because the whole world had been telling them that they should.

Ino:  And you're telling me that he kept your things after all these years? Wow, Forehead... I don't know if it's just obsessive or romantic. Maybe Sasuke, that human ice block, was actually an expert at pining.

Sakura: I think...I'm gonna stick with obsessive instead. It doesn't make sense, he never loved me the way I loved him. Why would he keep my things when he could just throw them away?

Ino: Beats me. Didn't he chase you all the way to the airport before? If he didn't love you, why would he do that? I hope you're using that brain inside your big forehead.

Sakura:  You make it sound so simple. It's not like that. Things...got complicated and we're not teenagers anymore.

She stared at the screen for a moment, unsure if she wanted to send it or just keep it as a thought to herself.

In the end, Sakura chose not to send it. She set her phone down and leaned back against the headboard, the weight of her own words settling around her. It wasn’t simple, and it never had been.

Sasuke never told her he loved her. She never even got that same love confession that he gave Izumi-senpai years ago. And it wasn’t easy to believe something that barely existed, the things that were left unspoken. That’s why the idea of “getting back together” feels less like a storybook ending and more like walking through a minefield.

The following morning, Sasuke woke up to the soft sounds coming from the kitchen. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up, feeling the morning wrap around him. He stretched his arms and stood up. 

His back ached slightly from sleeping on the couch, but he ignored it as he made his way toward the kitchen.

He found Sakura there, feeding Sarada who seated in her booster seat. Her little hands reached out eagerly for the spoon, arguing with her mother, “I do it, Mama!”

Sakura smiled softly but shook her head gently. “Not yet, Sara-chan. Let Mama help first, okay?”

Sasuke watched them quietly, letting the moment settle in.

Without thinking, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He raised it slowly, careful not to make a sound, and took a picture of Sakura and Sarada.

The image caught the soft light of their faces, the focus in Sakura’s viridian eyes and Sarada’s hands reaching out for the spoon.  

He lowered the phone and stayed still, holding onto that moment, the one that would remind him of what he wanted, and what he had lost.

In the silence, his thoughts had drifted to all the times he hadn’t said anything. If only he’d found the words sooner, and shown her that his feelings were sincere right from the start, maybe things would be different now.

He hadn’t been kind to Sakura back in high school. At one point, he even called her “annoying” because of her crush on him. But despite that, she kept smiling and still called him “Sasuke-kun.”

If this is what regret feels like, then Sasuke felt it tenfold—carrying the weight of every missed chance, every moment he could’ve done better but didn’t. It settled deep inside him, a constant reminder of what he had lost and what might never be.

Chapter Text

Sakura was avoiding Sasuke.

She just couldn’t deal with him right now or see his face without remembering everything that happened at his place last week. It was already hard enough to face him the morning after she found her things casually placed in his drawer—the kind of thing no sane ex would do. She didn’t want to overthink it or give too much weight to why he did it, especially with how things ended between them, but it was impossible not to. Because he’s Sasuke—the kind of guy everyone saw as emotionally distant, a human ice-block. He wasn’t the type to wear a cheesy, ugly couple shirt with his girlfriend, and definitely not someone who’d waste time in a dusty and tacky shop in the middle of nowhere for matching mugs.

The couple shirt thing never happened. Sakura couldn't even imagine it from happening when they were together.

But...the point is, Sasuke had always had a way of catching her off guard with his gestures that seem too out of character even to those who had known him all his life.

He had no reason to keep her clothes—especially that cardigan. The same one she wore the night she got too drunk to take herself home in one piece. Her memory of that night was blurry, but she clearly remembered him holding her hair back while she threw up into the toilet. Somewhere in the middle of all that, the cream-colored cardigan ended up stained with her vomit.

Sakura did not not bring that up again. After all, no sane ex-fiancée would straight up ask why without opening a closet full of wounds that completely annihilated a relationship that almost brought them down the aisle.

So right now, there she was, hiding in her room while Sasuke fetched Sarada for their weekly father and daughter date. He's taking her on his family's villa two hours away from the city for a quiet celebration of Itachi's thirty-fourth birthday and meet the rest of the Uchiha family, including the most venerable of them all, Madara Uchiha. She hadn't met the man yet, nor had met the man who was said to be the only political rival of Hashirama Senju, who also happened to be related to Auntie Tsunade.

Mikoto had invited her to come with them, but she declined, telling her she had volunteered for a medical mission with a colleague—which wasn’t exactly a lie. Dr. Sasori had asked her to join him and his team to offer medical aid to communities far less privileged than Konoha when it came to resources and proper healthcare.

From Sakura's room, she heard her darling girl, sobbing, when Ino told her that she's not coming with them.

"I'm sorry, Sara-chan. Mama can't go with you and Sasuke-kun today." 

"B-but Mama said she's gonna come with us!" Sarada cried, "Mama pwomised we gonna eat cake with Papa." 

It was the waterworks again. Sakura could already imagine her best friend caving, telling Sarada that she was just in her room—and that, yes, it wouldn’t be that hard to drop everything and go with her today. Because how could she not? When it came to her darling girl, the sweetest, prettiest thing she had ever brought into this world, she would be always prepared to give her the moon, the stars, and whatever she wanted.

Except it wasn’t just any outing—it was a trip with Sasuke, one that meant sitting in a car with him for two hours, maybe more depending on traffic to for a staycation with his family. And right now, she couldn’t bring herself to do that. Not today, and maybe not anytime soon. Because she had no idea how she was supposed to sit there, keep a straight face, and pretend like she hadn’t seen anything—that it didn’t affect her at all.

That's why, even though Sarada wails or throws a tantrum, she would not go out of her room and forget about her resolve. Sasuke could handle her. He was, after all, finally learning not to say yes to his mini-me every single time.

“Sarada, you’ll see Sakura right when we get back later.” It was a lie, but Sasuke said it anyway—anything to avoid the full-blown version of the waterworks. He’d seen it once, and it was the worst he'd ever seen their little girl cry—loud, messy, and heart-wrenching, like the world was ending. He honestly didn’t know how Sakura had managed to deal with their daughter’s meltdowns all these years. 

To his surprise, it seemed to be working. Sarada wasn’t pouting anymore, and this time, she was actually looking at him.

“Reawwy, Papa? We’ll see Mama later?” she asked, her eyes pleading with him—please don’t lie to me, Papa.

Sasuke almost gulped. How could he possibly lie to his sweet little girl? He understood now why Sakura always called her my darling girl, because she truly was. One look at that innocent, wide-eyed face was enough to make him stumble and lay the world beneath her feet.

"Yes, I'll take you back home later. So let's go now." He didn't wait for Sarada's response, he scooped her up right onto his hip with her pink pony backpack in tow and headed for the door.

Right after Sasuke and Sarada left, Ino appeared in Sakura’s room with a pointed look on her face. One hand rested on her hip as she said, “I hope you’re happy, Forehead. You just lied to Sara-chan.” Well, it wasn’t really her who said that in the first place. But the way Sasuke promised their daughter that she’d be taken home later, made her an accomplice. Besides, she wasn’t even there to back her ex up against their three-year-old.

"Don't give me that look, Pig." Sakura sighed as she reached for her jeans. She was getting ready for the medical mission that Sasori had mentioned just an hour drive from the city.

Ino let out a quiet sigh, her tone softening as she sat on the edge of Sakura’s bed. “You know she’s going to be waiting, right? Hoping Sasuke-kun keeps his promise to bring her back later.”

Then she glanced at her friend, eyes flickering with concern. “Remember the first time you left for that four-day work trip? Sarada bawled her eyes out like her whole world was falling apart. It was devastating, Forehead. I’m telling you, it broke me just watching her.”

Sakura stayed quiet for a moment, her chest tightening at the memory. A small pang of guilt crept in, unwelcome but persistent. She could still hear her daughter’s sobs in her mind while her small arms were clutching her clothes as she refused to let go.

But she took a breath as shook the thought off, and replied, “Sasuke’s with her. She’ll be fine.”

Sarada wasn’t fine.

Not at all.

At first, she had been the perfect little angel—smiling at everyone, charming even his grandfather, Madara, and for a while, he played with her, calling her a princess.

And she was. The princess of his family, perhaps the most precious girl to ever grace their ancient clan.

Technically, Sarada was his illegitimate child. Her name hadn’t been entered into the family’s register. It was something Sasuke had yet to discuss with Sakura because had been waiting for the right moment to tell her that their daughter should carry his name, to secure her place, her rights, and her future. As a lawyer, Sasuke understood better than anyone the consequences of leaving a child unprotected. He had seen it far too many times in the courtroom as messy, bitter fights evoked where children became collateral damage.

He wouldn't let that happen to his daughter.

Speaking of his perfect little angel, Sarada had been bawling her eyes out for five minutes straight. She was inconsolable, not even his mother's soothing could make her stop.

"I want Mama." She hiccupped between sobs, her small hands gripping the collar of her father's shirt like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. The sound of her voice, so raw and aching, made Sasuke's hand reach out for his phone in his pocket. For a moment, he considered calling Sakura, just to stop his daughter's meltdown. But this was her first night without her mother. As much as it hurt to watch, maybe getting through it would help her take that first step toward handling the time apart—something they’d both need to learn, with the way he and Sakura were co-parenting.

Across the room, Fugaku scowled as his eyes found his son carrying his granddaughter like a pathetic fool. This was what he was talking about when he asked about Sasuke and Sakura's plans for their daughter. Raising a child in separate homes meant that his granddaughter would be growing up thinking that her parents' set-up was normal, that it was perfectly fine for a family to look after a child, an Uchiha nonetheless, in an unstable environment.

Fugaku’s arms tightened across his chest as he watched Sasuke struggle with the child in his arms. Sarada’s cries tore through the room, sharp and restless, while her father stood stiff, uncertain. The sight soured Fugaku’s expression. This was the consequence of raising a child from separate households. They could have married, as any responsible adults would, and spared the girl this chaos. But his son had chosen stubborn pride and chose to drop the subject.

It was never about them. It was about Sarada—about her place in the family, the standing she should inherit once recognized as an Uchiha.

Fugaku let out a slow breath, his gaze never leaving the child in Sasuke’s arms. “Do you see it now?” His words carried no raise in volume, yet they landed heavy, like a reminder of every warning he had given. “This is what comes of your choices. She suffers while you stand there, unable to give her what she needs.”

Sasuke’s grip on Sarada tightened. His eyes flicked up, hard and cutting. “You think I don’t know what she needs?” His voice cracked against the edge of his restraint.

Mikoto moved quickly, setting a hand on her husband’s sleeve. “Dear, please, don't. Dr. Senju had warned you about your heart.” Her tone pleaded more than it scolded, but he didn’t turn to her.

This situation was starting to become a sappy soap opera and Sasuke have got no time for this. His father had always articulated his disapproval toward him, the second son—the spare of this family. To his father's eyes, he had never done anything that was noteworthy, unlike his brother who had gotten married when he was told to and followed their grandfather's footsteps without hesitation in the political field. 

And now, he had a say on how he and Sakura have been raising their daughter.

Sarada’s cries rose higher, her small fists thudding against Sasuke’s chest in restless protest. He should have let Itachi take her to the lake to keep her distracted. Maybe then she wouldn’t be breaking down in his arms now.

“Uncle, please. That’s enough.” Shisui rose from his seat and slipped into the space between them, moving with a calm that cut against the heaviness in the room. He turned to Sasuke, his expression carrying that familiar, unspoken push—come on, loosen up, cous. Then, with a half-smile, he added, “Call Sakura. She’ll know how to handle this.”

Sasuke stepped onto the balcony, the cool night air brushing against them. Sarada’s sobs had softened to hiccups while her face was still buried against his shoulder. He shifted her gently and lifted a hand toward the sky.

“See that one?” he pointed. “That’s Deneb.” His voice stayed low, careful, as if the stars themselves might listen in. “Are the stars pretty to look at, Sarada?”

Her wet eyes flicked upward for only a second before pressing back against him. Sasuke gave a faint huff through his nose, brushing his thumb over her damp cheek. “You’ll be prettier than those stars,” he murmured, “if you stop crying.”

Balancing her in one arm, he reached for his phone and started to FaceTime Sakura.

The sun was almost out when volunteers began packing away the tents and equipment from the medical mission. The operation was led by Akatsuki, a humanitarian group where Dr. Sasori was a member along with his college friend, Deidara. According to them, the organization thrived on the backing of anonymous donors and philanthropists—figures whose influence and reach had allowed Akatsuki to extend humanitarian aid even to the most remote corners of the great nations.

It was the same case as the rest of Fire Country that were left behind by Konoha's prosperity, which started to thrive as bustling metropolis thanks to the former Lord Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi. Under his administration, the Fire Daimyo poured out all the investments in the city. However, this caused the provinces that could not keep up with Konoha's progress, to be left behind. The unequal access to resources had left places like Hacho Village to scramble on their meager revenue to provide essential government services. For Sakura, it was noble of Akatsuki to bring aid to lower districts and provinces, but it was also a reminder how uneven life in the country had become.

Madoka Ikkyu, the daimyo, paid little mind to places that produced no revenue for the capital. Villages outside the city were left forgotten, especially after his deal with the Land of Kizahashi to build a facility for its oil reserves. The Fire Country had resources to spare; that much was true. Which was why it unsettled her that the daimyo chose to use that wealth to strike bargains abroad while his own people went without.

Sakura lifted another box and set it carefully into the back of the truck. She wiped her palms against her sides of her jeans before reaching into her pocket where her phone had been buzzing. The thought of Sasuke and Sarada came to her at once. She had not checked her phone for the entire afternoon, too occupied with work, and now the screen showed more than a dozen notifications. Most of them were from Sasuke, but she decided not to open them yet.

A video call flashed across the screen, and she answered immediately.

The first thing she saw was Sarada’s face filling the frame. Her daughter’s cheeks were wet, her eyes swollen from crying, and her small mouth trembled as she tried to catch her breath.

Sakura’s expression softened the moment her daughter appeared on the screen. “Hi, honey,” she greeted, her voice gentle. There was no hint of scolding, only curiosity at what had left Sarada in tears.

“Mama,” Sarada whimpered, her bottom lip quivering as she rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand.

Sakura leaned a little closer to the screen, as if that might bridge the distance between them. “What’s the matter? Did something happen?”

Sarada sniffled, unable to form the words, her small face twisting as another tear slid down.

Sasuke shifted the phone then, his face coming into view beside their daughter’s. His tone was measured, though the strain in his features betrayed him. He explained what had happened, then asked, “Where are you right now? Is there any chance you could come, even for a bit?”

"Hacho Village."

Sasuke shifted the phone in his hand. “That's pretty close to Hoshigakure. I could pick you up in thirty minutes or less.” His gaze flicked to their daughter, still clinging to his shirt. “She’s been crying nonstop since earlier.”

“I’ll be there after I fix my things,” Sakura said, her eyes flicking away briefly as if already planning what she needed to do before leaving.

Before Sasuke could respond, a red-haired man appeared beside her, the same man he had seen in the hospital a few weeks ago. 

"Hey Sakura! We're going to Yakiniku-Q on the way back to the city. Do you want to join us?" His tone was polite, almost casual. It sounded like a friendly invitation, which was quite harmless...but he couldn't help but feel this inexplicable rage inside him. Especially when Sakura turned beside her and smiled at that guy. Sure, it didn't mean anything, but she smiled at him when all he got was the constant display of discomfort from her end.

Sasuke’s grip on the phone tightened. He kept his face still, though inside there was a prickle of unease he couldn’t quite shake. He sure that she would accept his invitation, since he had assured her the whole week that he could handle their daughter and the event of her meltdown.

But to his surprise, Sakura shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t. Maybe next time.”

Relief stirred in him when Sakura refused without a second thought. Maybe they were only colleagues. That explanation should have been enough, yet the thought remained, sharper than he wanted to admit. Why was he even thinking about it? Her life beyond Sarada wasn’t his concern. They had agreed to co-parent, to share their daughter’s world, not each other’s. Even so, watching her through the screen left an ache he struggled to push down. He tried to convince himself it was only because of Sarada, because their daughter needed her mother. But the truth pressed harder than he cared to admit—the wanting was still there, and he had no right to it.

Her colleague—whatever his name was—took the hint and stepped back, though not without adding, “I’m looking forward to next time,” before turning away.

Sasuke’s brow tightened before he caught himself. He forced his face back into something blank, even if the effort felt heavy.

When Sakura’s face filled the screen again, she studied him. “Sasuke, is something wrong? You don’t look well.”

He glanced at the corner of his screen, catching the faint trace of his frown, and muttered, “Stomachache.”

She raised a brow. “What, did you eat too much? I’ll take a look when I get there. But stop with the frowning—you’ll just make it worse. And Sarada might catch your grouchiness.”

The words tumbled out before she could stop herself. She bit the inside of her cheek, silently cursing her slip. Why was she rambling like an idiot? Worse, why was she still showing too much concern over her ex?

Clearing her throat, she redirected. “Let me see Sarada.”

Sasuke angled the phone down, only to find their daughter had already drifted off while her tear-streaked face was pressed against his shoulder.

It was a little past eight when Sakura arrived at the Uchiha family’s villa. The two-story house was nestled within the forested stretch of Hoshigakure, a quiet retreat often rented out to groups or families looking for seclusion. She had been here before, back when she and Sasuke were still together, for the occasional family gathering he couldn’t manage to avoid.

Izumi was first to greet her at the door, with her son, Haruka, who was perched sleepily in her shoulder. "Sakura-chan, you're here! I thought you couldn't make it." Her voice was slightly hushed, taking care not to stir the baby in her arms.

Sakura gave a small smile, though it felt a little stiff. "I'm just here to take Sarada home. Sasuke called me earlier, he's having trouble with Sara-chan's meltdown."

Izumi's mouth curved into a pout. "Awww... that's too bad. I was hoping you could stay a while, you know, so we could catch up?"

Sakura’s steps faltered. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind—because she had been avoiding it, just as carefully as she had been avoiding Sasuke all week. Truth was, she’d kept her interactions with her ex’s sister-in-law clipped and minimal to protect what little peace she still had.

But this was the cost of keeping Sarada close to her father’s side of the family. Their lives were tangled together whether she liked it or not. She could ask her godmother for help, maybe even try to put some distance between herself and the Uchiha name, but what good would that do? Tsunade’s reach could only go so far. Against the weight of this family, even her godmother’s influence would barely make a dent.

Besides, Sasuke had made it perfectly clear: if she ever tried to run, it would end in court, and that was something he could win without much effort. The thought left a bitter taste, but she’d learned to live with it, pushing her resentment away in the same place she kept all the other compromises she’d had to make for Sarada’s sake.

"Sasuke's in the living room with Sarada-chan and grandfather. It's quite amusing... that temperamental old man seems to have a liking into her." Izumi let out a chuckle as she shifted Haruka against her shoulder. The baby gave a soft whimper before his mother soothed him with gentle pats and planted light kisses on his downy head.

Sakura slid the door open and found her darling girl perched on the lap of a wizened old man with wild gray hair. His face was deeply lined, his posture dignified despite the years weighing on him. Even seated, his presence seemed to command the room. The resemblance was clear—those sharp Uchiha eyes, faded now but still cutting, and a mouth that curved faintly the way Fugaku’s did when something amused him.

At present, it was Sarada who provided the amusement. Her little fingers pinched at the papery folds of his skin, giggling as though she had discovered the most fascinating toy in the world. The old man’s lips twitched into something close to laughter, indulging her without complaint.

'Where have I seen him before?' The thought nagged at her, refusing to let go as she studied his face more closely. It wasn’t just resemblance she was recognizing. No—she knew him.

Then, the memory resurfaced. She had seen the same old man before—in Suna, when he stumbled and collapsed in the middle of the market. She remembered kneeling at his side, steadying his pulse until the paramedics arrived. He hadn’t carried a single form of identification, so there had been no way to know who he truly was back then.

Besides, she had never once seen the man at any of the family gatherings she’d attended with Sasuke. His existence was something she only knew through whispers—stories of his prowess, of how he had single-handedly defended the city’s autonomy when the previous daimyo tried to claim it under his jurisdiction.

Now, those whispers had a face.

That old man... he was Madara Uchiha.

Mikoto noticed her first. “Sakura-chan, you’re here,” she said warmly, rising from her seat. “Have you eaten? You must be tired. You shouldn’t skip meals, especially when you’re busy.” Her tone carried that gentle scolding only a mother could manage, the kind that both comforted and unsettled.

Before Sakura could answer, the old man’s gaze shifted to her. His clouded eyes sharpened for a fleeting second, and his voice, rough with age, carried surprising clarity.

“…Sakura.” 

Her breath caught. How does this man know her name?

“Her hair…” he muttered, eyes narrowing as though searching for something far away, “…like the flowers. The ones that only bloom in spring.”

Sarada turned at once, following the sound of her name. The little girl’s eyes lit up, and with a squeal of delight she wriggled out of his lap, her small feet wobbling across the floor. “Mama!”

Madara’s attention did not waver from Sakura. His brow furrowed. “Who is she?”

Sasuke’s voice was even, measured. “She’s Sarada’s mother.”

But Shisui, ever the mischief-maker, leaned against the doorframe with a grin. “She’s Sasuke’s wife.”

The words hung in the air like a blade. Sakura froze. Mikoto’s smile faltered. Itachi shot Shisui a sharp, warning look, mirrored by Sasuke, whose eyes darkened.

Madara’s gaze shifted slowly to his descendant, pinning Sasuke under its weight. “You're married?” His voice was mild, but the silence that followed was brittle, one wrong word away from splintering.

No one moved. Every Uchiha in the room knew too well—Madara’s temper, once stirred, was not easily contained.

The old man's question hung in the air, heavy and expectant. Sasuke held his silence, jaw tight, while Sakura simply stood with Sarada clinging to her leg.

Mikoto’s voice broke the tension, soft but firm. “Father, aren’t you tired? You’ve had enough excitement for today.” Her gaze slid toward Shisui, sharp enough to pin him in place. “Shisui will help you settle in bed.”

Shisui straightened, his earlier grin dissolving into a sheepish wince. “Y-yes, gramps! I’ll take you to your room.” He moved quickly to Madara’s side, trying to mask his nerves as he offered an arm.

Madara’s sharp eyes lingered on Sasuke for another breath before his expression eased into something distant, unfocused, as though the moment had already slipped away from him. Then he rose with surprising steadiness for his age, leaning on Shisui only slightly.

As Shisui disappeared down the hall with Madara in tow, Mikoto let out a quiet sigh and turned back toward Sakura, her smile warm, if a little apologetic. “Please don’t mind Shisui,” she said delicately. “He lets his mouth run faster than his head sometimes. There’s dinner on the table, if you’d like to join us.”

Sakura adjusted Sarada in her arms and shook her head. “Thank you, but I’ll be taking her home."

Mikoto’s smile softened into something maternal, tinged with disappointment. “That’s a shame… I was hoping you’d stay a while. The roads get awfully dark this time of night, and it isn’t safe to drive all the way back to the city. Why not stay here instead? If you’d like, Sasuke can take you and Sarada home first thing in the morning.”

Sakura opened her mouth to refuse, but the way Mikoto spoke made her pause. Unlike her husband, Mikoto had never pressed her about the past or hinted at reconciliation for Sarada’s sake. She was more like… an ally, almost a second mother, after Auntie Tsunade. Although there were times she felt like a formidable foe that Sakura couldn't get past into especially when she uses her motherly nature as a weapon...like right now...to push her to stay.

With a sigh, she gave a small, reluctant smile. “Alright…I'm staying."

The sun wasn't even up yet when Sakura woke.

She stretched her arms, joints loosening with a faint crack, before reaching for her phone on the bedside table. The screen blinked to life—it's 5:00 am. Outside, the sky was painted in soft hues of orange and blue, slowly brightening, the horizon readying itself for the first crown of light.

She turned her head toward Sarada, who was curled up beside her. Her daughter’s face was relaxed, framed by wisps of messy black hair.

With Sarada sleeping so soundly like that, it would be hard to wake her. Sakura knew it was going to be a long drive back to the city, and the thought of coaxing her daughter out of bed felt almost cruel. She slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower, the hot water washing away the heaviness from the night before. Thankfully, she had a change of clothes stashed in her car; luck was on her side for once. But by the time she was dressed and ready, Sarada still hadn’t stirred.

Sakura slipped out of the room, careful with every step so as not to wake Sarada. The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that only came before sunrise, and she quickly made her way to the kitchen. She poured herself a mug of coffee, taking only enough time to savor the first sip before heading back upstairs.

When she returned, Sarada was still fast asleep, cheeks puffed and lips parted slightly, lost in her dreams. Sakura hesitated, then decided against waking her. Instead, she slipped through the sliding door that led to the upstairs balcony.

The morning air greeted her at once—cool, crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and damp earth. From where she stood, she could see the mountain outlined against a sky streaked with orange and blue. The trees swayed lightly in the breeze, their rustling blending into the steady silence. She let her shoulders relax, wrapping both hands around her mug as she breathed it all in.

A shift in the air drew her attention. When she glanced sideways, Sasuke was there, standing close enough for her to notice the faint steam rising from the cup he held.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice low, even, yet somehow heavier in the stillness between them.

“G–good morning,” Sakura managed, her voice catching as if the words stumbled out on their own. She gave him a small nod, then quickly lifted her mug to her lips, hoping the steam might mask the faint heat rising in her cheeks.

Sasuke’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before he turned back to the horizon. “Did you sleep well?” he asked, his tone neutral, though the question itself felt unexpectedly personal in the quiet of the morning.

Sakura shifted her weight, fingers tightening around her cup. “Yeah,” she said after a pause, her voice softer this time. “Better than I thought I would.”

Sasuke glanced at her from the corner of his eye, then asked, “Are you leaving soon?”

“Once Sarada wakes up,” Sakura replied, her voice steady, though she found herself staring a little too intently at the tree line as if it offered her an escape.

The words fell between them, followed by a stretch of silence. It wasn’t a comfortable one. They hadn’t been alone together like this in years—without Sarada bridging the space, it felt oddly fragile, as though anything they said might tip them into dangerous territory.

“I could drive you home,” Sasuke finally offered, his tone even but weighted with something she couldn’t quite name.

Sakura let out a short breath, turning to look at him, her lips quirking faintly. “I am confident in my skills as a driver.”

He took a sip from his cup, muttering just loud enough for her to hear, “That’s not what happened when I taught you how to drive.”

Her face flushed hot, equal parts indignation and embarrassment.

Sakura froze, her mug hovering near her lips. Heat crept up her cheeks before she could stop it.

The silence that followed stretched, almost daring her to fill it. But instead of answering, her mind betrayed her, dragging her back years ago.

She was twenty-four then, more impatient, her grip on the steering wheel so tight her fingers had cramped. Two failed exams behind her, and she’d sworn she didn’t need anyone’s help. But one day, Sasuke had slid into the passenger seat without a word, adjusting the mirrors and leaning back like he belonged there.

“You’re too tense,” he had said, eyes on the road. “Let the car move. Don’t fight it.”

She’d stalled three more times that day, cursed under her breath, even smacked the wheel in frustration. But Sasuke...he hadn’t sighed or snapped, not once. He just gave her quiet pointers, breaking things down so she could actually follow. By the end, her hands weren’t aching anymore, and for the first time she’d felt like maybe driving wasn’t impossible.

The memory dissolved as quickly as it surfaced, leaving her back on the balcony with him. Same man, same silence, and far too much left unsaid.

Sakura shifted, lowering her mug as if that would steady her nerves. But when she dared glance sideways, she caught him watching her. His mouth tugged ever so slightly at one corner.

“You’re remembering it, aren’t you?” Sasuke said, voice low, almost amused.

Her stomach flipped. “N-no,” she blurted too quickly, eyes darting back toward the trees. “Why would I—”

He cut her off with the faintest huff, the kind that wasn’t quite a laugh. “You always bite your lip when you’re trying not to admit something.”

Her hand flew up to her mouth before she could stop herself, only to realize he was right. The flush on her cheeks deepened, and she turned away, muttering, “You’re imagining things.”

But his silence after that wasn’t cold. It was heavy in another way—like he knew he’d hit a mark, and he didn’t need to press any further.

An hour later, Sakura and Sarada were already dressed, standing by the door as though preparing to leave. The rest of the family sat around the long table, halfway through breakfast, the room warm with the quiet clatter of dishes and soft conversation.

“I should get going,” Sakura said politely, adjusting the bag on her shoulder.

Izumi looked up immediately, bouncing Haruka against her hip. “Already? Come on, Sakura-chan, at least sit down for breakfast with us.”

Before Sakura could protest, Mikoto was already pulling out an extra set of chopsticks and sliding a plate into the empty spot beside Sasuke. Sarada, happy to stay, wriggled her way onto her father’s lap without waiting for permission. With a sigh of defeat, Sakura sat down.

The conversation that followed was light and ordinary—how busy the hospital had been, what Tsunade was up to, her short stay in Suna. It was almost too normal, the kind of family breakfast she sometimes used to imagine but never allowed herself to dwell on for long.

The mood shifted when Shisui entered the room with Madara walking at his side. 

“Ara—it's Sasuke's wife." His dull gray eyes glimmered in recognition as his gaze landed on Sakura.

Sakura froze, her fingers tightening around her chopsticks. Sarada, on the other hand, lit up with excitement and waved both arms. “Grandpa!” she cried, delighted.

No one moved to correct him. Not even Sakura herself. She knew better than to contradict an elderly patient in front of everyone, especially one with a frail grip on memory. Instead, she offered a faint, respectful smile, though her heart was pounding.

Across the table, Sasuke’s brow tightened, his lips pressing into a hard line. She caught the almost inaudible sound of him cursing under his breath, his dark glare flicking toward Shisui. This was his cousin’s doing, and everyone knew it.

The rest of breakfast carried on in silence, punctuated only by the clink of chopsticks and Sarada’s cheerful chatter as she asked question after question about her grandparents and uncles.

When the meal finally ended, Sakura rose and bowed politely. “Thank you for having us. Sarada and I will be heading back now.”

She turned to gather her daughter, but before she could step away, Sasuke stood. His voice was calm, almost flat, but firm. “I’ll drive you.” 

Before Sakura could even open her mouth to refuse, Sarada was already tugging the straps of her pink pony backpack off her shoulders and handing it to her father. Without hesitation, Sasuke took it and slung it over one shoulder as if it weighed nothing at all. He had already claimed her duffel bag in his other hand, along with her car keys leaving her with nothing to argue over. He didn’t seem to mind in the slightest how ridiculous the backpack looked on him—though Sakura knew the moment Shisui saw him, the teasing would be merciless.

Sarada was already strapped into her car seat, watching a cartoon, probably, with the way she was bouncing in her seat, while Sasuke closed the door and went around to load the last of their bags into the trunk. Sakura stayed on the porch, reminding herself that she still needed to find Mikoto and let her know that they’re going back to the city.

She had just turned to head back inside when a figure moved toward her.

It was Madara.

Only this time, he wasn’t the vague, distracted old man she had met the night before. His posture was straight, his steps steady, and when his eyes found hers, they were sharp—too sharp. It was as though the years had peeled back for just a moment, and the man before her was the same one people spoke of in half-whispers, the legend rather than the shadow.

He stopped a few paces away, his gaze fixed on her with unnerving clarity. “Thank you,” he said, voice low but deliberate. “For saving my life.”

Sakura was taken aback, wondering how on earth he could have recognized her. Back in Suna, he had been barely conscious when she knelt beside him, his replies little more than strained grunts. There had been no spark of awareness in his eyes, no indication that he would remember her face.

And yet, here he was—looking at her with clarity, as though the fog had been burned away for a fleeting moment.

Still, she didn’t ask how. Her mouth worked before her thoughts caught up. “Y-you’re welcome, Grandfather.” The word slipped out awkwardly, her voice betraying the hesitation she felt. She didn’t know if it was right to call him that, or if she was simply feeding into the charade that she was Sasuke’s wife—all thanks to Shisui’s stupid joke from the night before.

“Sakura, we’re leaving.”

It was Sasuke. She hadn’t even noticed him standing beside her until his voice pulled her out of her uneasy thoughts.

She turned to him with a small nod, ready to follow, when Madara’s voice cut through the quiet once more.

“Take care of my grandson, will you?” The words made Sakura falter. His gaze lingered on her, sharp and strangely lucid, as if he had seen past the pretense that everyone else danced around. 

"Of course, grandfather." This time, her voice didn't falter when she addressed him as "grandfather", but it still felt heavy on her tongue.

The days slipped by in a blur.

Sasuke had been diligent in keeping his end of their agreement when it came to co-parenting Sarada—picking her up on time, returning her without fuss, making sure their daughter’s routine stayed undisturbed. For a while, everything seemed manageable, almost civil.

But after Itachi’s birthday, he began to notice a change. Sakura wasn’t just keeping her usual careful distance, the kind marked by polite smiles and the occasional flinch when their paths crossed. This time, she was nowhere to be found. 

It was Ino who greeted him at the door when he came to pick up Sarada. The first time, he thought nothing of it. Once, Ino told him Sakura was at the hospital, working late. Another time, she claimed Sakura had signed up for a medical mission. Both times, the answers came far too quickly...suspiciously quickly.

He would've let it go until Sarada has answered for herself.

“Where’s your mama?” he asked casually as he buckled her in.

Sarada tapped her chin like she was thinking really hard. “Mama's in her room,” she chirped. “She watchin’ tee-bee. The show with the people who go cry-cry.” Her little nose scrunched.

Sasuke paused, the click of the buckle was louder than it should’ve been. His daughter’s dark eyes blinked up at him, utterly guileless.

She wasn't in the hospital or out doing volunteer work this whole time. She was just plainly avoiding him. He couldn't fathom why would she resort into full hiding when he had done nothing wrong nor invaded her space. It shouldn't bother him. Heck, if that colleague of hers shows up again, he could go ahead and whisk her away, date her, marry her for all he cared.

But the more Sasuke thought about it, the more his chest tightened, a slow constriction that refused to let go. He wasn't supposed to feel this way—not anymore. If Sakura wants to be with someone else, he shouldn't do something about it. He shouldn't even care about it. After all, he got what he wanted—which is to be in their daughter's life.

That was enough.

That had to be enough.

Another week had gone by since Sakura began keeping her distance from her ex.

To her relief, things had been… normal. Sasuke never pressed her with questions or asked why she avoided him. He simply carried out what was expected of him—being Sarada’s father and showing up whenever their daughter needed him. For Sakura, that was enough. Normalcy meant peace and there's no tension hanging over her head, no unexpected conversations waiting to trip her up. It was just work, Sarada, and the little pockets of quiet she carved out for herself.

Frankly, she preferred it this way—each of them minding their own business, only crossing paths when Sarada needed it. That was how it should have been. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself. Yet, in the past few weeks, she found herself being drawn into her ex’s life and his family’s, a place she didn’t belong. She and Sasuke carried too much history, one steeped in bitterness. It made no sense for their spheres to overlap again, not when the space between them wasn’t widening as it should, but closing in—slowly, uncomfortably, no matter how much she pretended otherwise.

By the time noon rolled around, Sakura finally gave in to Ino’s insistence that she join her for lunch. Her best friend had been pestering her since morning that they should meet since she was in the area. They were headed down to Hanami Cafe, a bright coffee shop on the ground floor where the smell of brewed coffee and fresh bread cut through the sterile scent of antiseptic.

Ino carried the conversation as they joined the short line. “So,” she began, tilting her head at Sakura, “how are things with Sasuke? Don’t think I haven’t noticed you slipping out whenever he’s around.”

Sakura sighed, “It’s fine. We’re fine. He’s doing what he needs to for Sarada.”

“That’s not the question I asked.” Ino crossed her arms, her voice lowering but sharp with curiosity. “You’ve been avoiding him by keeping yourself holed up in your room every time he picks up Sarada."

Sakura shifted uncomfortably, picking at her sleeve. “It’s better this way.”

Ino gave her a long, knowing look. “If you say so. But forehead, you’ve got that face you make when you’re lying to yourself.”

Sakura didn’t answer. Her mind was elsewhere she didn’t notice she almost collided with someone standing just outside the café entrance.

“Grandfather?” she breathed, recognizing Madara immediately. He stood alone, eyes clouded with confusion, though they cleared the instant they landed on her. Relief softened his features.

“Oh, there you are, Sasuke-wife,” he said with certainty, as though naming her gave him clarity.

Ino froze, her mouth falling open. “Sasuke’s wife?” she repeated, incredulous.

Sakura shot her a sharp look before stepping closer to Madara. “Grandfather, are you all right? Did you have lunch? Was someone with you?”

Madara’s brows furrowed. “I… don’t remember. I lost my way.”

Her expression gentled, concern overriding the awkwardness of Ino’s stare. “Come with me. Let’s go to the cafeteria, you’ll feel better after you eat.” She slipped a hand under his arm, guiding him carefully. Even as she fished her phone out to call Sasuke, she could feel Ino’s burning curiosity from behind her.

After taking Sasuke's grandfather in the cafeteria, she queued in the counter to pay for his meal. But before that, she made sure that he was seated where she could see him. While in line, she took out her phone and sent a quick message to Ino: Sorry our lunch didn't go as planned.

The reply almost came immediately. Don't worry about it, Forehead. I understand that you have more pressing matters to deal with. She ended the text with a winky emoji and Sakura knew instantly what that meant. She's going to have a tell-all session by the next time her best friend comes over for drinks and sleepover. 

Her gaze drifted back to Sasuke's grandfather. He had looked so relieved when he recognized her earlier, calling her “Sasuke’s wife” without hesitation, as if her presence told him that he was safe and everything's going to be okay.

Sakura exhaled, steeling herself, and pulled up Sasuke’s contact. She didn’t want to press the call button—not when she’d worked so hard to keep her distance these past weeks—but he needed to know. His grandfather had been wandering alone, disoriented, and that wasn’t something she could ignore.

With a resigned flick of her thumb, she made the call.

When his voice came through the line, low and even, she kept her tone clipped, professional almost. “It’s me. Your grandfather’s here at the hospital. He got a little lost, but I found him and we're in the cafeteria.”

There was a pause on the other end, heavy and unspoken, before Sasuke finally replied, “…I’ll let my mother know. She and Shisui will come for him.”

“Alright,” Sakura said, glancing back at Madara, who was still eating with calm dignity. “He’s fine now, but… I thought you should know.”

Another silence stretched, then Sasuke’s voice came softer, almost reluctant. “…Thank you.”

She ended the call quickly before the quiet between them could grow into something heavier.

When she set the tray down on the table, Madara studied her. His gaze was wasn't sharp nor scrutinizing, but Sakura could feel that it was unmasking her layer by layer, as if he was seeing someone he knew all too well in her.

“You remind me of her,” he said at last.

Sakura looked up, puzzled. “Of… who?”

“My wife,” Madara answered plainly, his eyes softening in a way she hadn’t seen before.

Sakura’s chest tightened, her hands pausing where they were folded in front of her. “I… see,” she said quietly, unsure how else to respond.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, more memory than expression. “It’s been a long time since I’ve thought of her. But looking at you now… it almost feels like she’s with me.”

Sakura held his gaze, offering him the same gentle smile she reserved for her patients. On the surface, it was calm and reassuring, but her mind was racing, scrambling for an exit strategy. She shouldn’t be here—sitting in a hospital cafeteria, taking her ex's grandfather for lunch. She should’ve been at the coffee shop with Ino, sipping overpriced coffee and gossiping about anything and everything under the sun.

But no. Instead, she was stuck in this absurd charade, playing the role of Sasuke’s wife simply because it was the convenient story Madara had latched onto. Convenient for him, maybe, but for her? It was absolute torture.

Her jaw tightened, though the smile on her lips didn’t waver. In the back of her mind, she was cursing Shisui and his reckless, flapping mouth. This was his doing, his joke turned into a curse, and now she was the one left to carry it.

A faint smile tugged at Madara’s mouth, though his eyes lingered somewhere distant. “My wife... she had the same smile as yours and the same way of fussing over me even when I didn’t want her to. She never let me forget what was important.” His gaze shifted back to Sakura, sharper now, as if cutting through the years. “You remind me of her. And you and Sasuke—don’t forget what truly matters. Family. It’s the only thing that endures.”

Sakura’s breath caught, her hands tightening on her lap. She had no answer for him—none that wouldn’t betray the storm rising in her chest. So she only inclined her head, offering the kind of respect that words couldn’t carry. "Y-yes, grandfather. We'll keep that in mind."

Chapter Text

It was rare for Sakura to have a day off without getting a single call from the hospital. That's why, she took it as a chance to pull out the boxes she hadn't opened since moving back from Suna. With Tamaki—Sarada's former nanny—gone, and her hospital shifts brutal lately with surgeries and emergencies left and right, Sakura never found the time to deal with them. Honestly, she couldn't even remember what was inside anymore. The boxes had just been gathering dust in her study.

Luckily, it was Saturday. Sarada was with her dad, whom she'd been idolizing lately as if Sasuke was cut above all dads in Konoha. It started when he picked her up from daycare—something he hadn't done before because, like her, he was always busy with work. Usually, it was Ino or Mikoto-san who took Sarada home.

Sasuke wasn't exactly a familiar face to the daycare staff, which was why the teacher sent Sakura a message with a picture of him, asking if he was indeed Sarada's dad.

When she did, Sarada's teacher had replied, "You're lucky to have handsome husband like Sasuke-san."  Her viridian eyes narrowed when she read the text. She wanted to respond that there's nothing going on between her and Sasuke, but what's the point? It's completely irrelevant and that would just bring her on a tight spot and become a subject of rumors. A lot of people from that neighborhood loved to gossip, especially those aunties who kept asking her about Sarada's father. 

She could move and sell her apartment, but her work schedule wasn't exactly the kind where she'd get a lot of uninterrupted time off to look for a new place. With her salary, she could afford a place somewhere closer to the hospital—like upstate or somewhere in central district. But it would take a lot of work, besides it wasn't even that long when she moved back here from Suna.

Sakura dusted one of the boxes with a microfiber cloth before opening it. She froze when she saw what was inside. Memories flooded her mind the moment she laid eyes on the bunny plushie—Usagi-chan—a gift from her late mother, Mebuki Haruno. It wasn't in the best condition, having been hidden away for years, stuffed in a box along with the things that she had desperately tried to bury.

For a while, it worked.

Keeping the things that weighed her down tucked out of sight helped her focus and get through med school, internship, residency, and most of all, Sasuke. But keeping those things away didn't mean it hurt any less. She once told herself, maybe, someday I'll look and not feel anything anymore.

But one look at Usagi-chan was enough to bring her back in the period of her life when she lost her parents in what the local paper described as a "tragic car accident." Losing her mom was tragic. She couldn't say the same for her father—the man who who had been nothing but a sperm donor, because calling him a parent was too much of a stretch.

Sakura peered into the box again and found her old test papers from high school, journals, and a decorative cardboard box filled with notes and letters she had exchanged with friends. There were photos, and even old movie and arcade tickets. But what tugged her heart the most, the one that had always brought a light heaviness to her chest even after all these years—was a candid picture Sasuke in his kyudo uniform—a white tsutsusode top, which he usually paired with black hakama pants and white tabi socks. In the photo, he was aiming for the target, although the angle emphasized his face more than his bow and arrow.

That version of him was the one that swept her off her feet and broke her heart at the same time. Back then, Sasuke was everything she had ever wanted. To her, he was like the main love interest in a shojo manga, someone who was smart, competitive, and devoted to an afterschool activity that wasn't basketball or some other mainstream sport. He was the captain of the archery team, while she was the girl who was hopelessly in love with him.

Sakura wouldn't have gotten his picture if not for her involvement in their section's yearbook committee. Konoha High didn't officially have one, so as the class representative, she suggested making one just for their class. Surprisingly, everyone agreed—especially the girls. Most of them were Sasuke's loyal fans who only wanted a book filled with his pictures. But to Sakura, that didn't feel right at all. Besides, Sasuke would never want his face to be worshipped like some idol.

All throughout the school year, Sakura, Ino, Hinata—who turned out to be a skilled graphic artist—and Sai worked together on the yearbook. Sai handled the photography, while she and Ino took care of the content, and Hinata did the layout. The project ended up being more fun than any of them expected, and it brought the whole class closer. By the end of the school year, they were all crying like a bunch of idiots.

As a parting gift, Sai had approached her before their graduation ceremony, slipped a small envelope into her pocket, and muttered, "Open this when you get home, Ugly."

And when she did, her heart skipped a beat. It was Sasuke's picture. 

Even breaking things off between them, Sakura never tried to get rid of all of his pictures or anything related to him. She had no reason to keep any of those, but she still did. For others, maybe it was easy to toss things straight to the bin when they no longer served their purpose or when they don't "spark joy" anymore. But not her. Not when those things held so much memories.

Besides, throwing away his pictures and everything related to him would never change that Sasuke was his first love.

Someday, Sakura would like to look like at his pictures and maybe tell Sarada, "Sasuke-kun was my first love. Even if things didn't work out between us, I want you fall in love like I did with your papa."

For now, she would keep everything she found in the box in the empty space inside her file cabinet. Except for Usagi-chan. It was time to pass her beloved toy to her darling girl. But before that, Sakura decided she would take the bunny to a shop that fixed "toys with boo-boos", she found one online, located in one the city's old districts.

She finished cleaning as fast as could—separating the things that could be donated or recycled, while the rest went straight to the garbage bag.

The shopkeeper told her that Usagi-chan would be fixed in an hour. With some time to spare, Sakura texted Ino to check if she was free to hang out, but her best friend—surprisingly—replied that she was cooped up in her studio, picking out pieces for Konoha Fashion Week. The pinkette didn't press further and ended the conversation with a simple, I'm rooting for you, Pig.

Sakura wandered into one of the old streets of the city after taking a narrow crowded path down an alley. Traditional buildings with slanted terracotta-tiled roofs towered over the area. The air was thick with different aromas—sweet, tangy, and savory—as steam rose from stalls selling dumplings, pork buns, and takoyaki.

On the other side of the street, a shoe store displayed pieces that had been fashionable decades ago, now flocked by middle-aged women and grandmothers. Right next to it was a stall selling packets of tea paste, although it's more a resin—solidified into a circle, which can be dissolved in hot water.

The owner insisted she try their specialty, and hand out a small paper cup, claiming it was the best in the area. 

"Careful, miss. It's hot." A woman with streaks of gray hair, standing beside the owner, about fifty or so, warned as Sakura lifted the cup. The smell hit her first—fragrant, minty, with a dash of turmeric. Once it cooled, she took a sip, and the taste was exactly as good as it smelled.

"You're right, it is good. Can I get five packs of this?" she told the shopkeeper, fishing her wallet inside of her bag.

"That would be 600 Ryo, miss."  

'Mikoto-san would love this, Auntie Tsunade too.' She thought as she placed the bills on the counter.

"No need to put those in a plastic bag." She said as she took the packets of tea and placed them inside her canvass tote bag.

After almost an hour, Sakura decided to go back to the toy fixer's shop and call it a day. Maybe cook something delicious for dinner.

Maybe...invite Sasuke.

Invite Sasuke?! Where on earth did that thought come from? And why, all of a sudden, was she thinking of asking her ex for dinner?

As she approached the shop, Sakura tried to rationalize with herself, why she thought of inviting Sasuke for dinner. Perhaps it was her subconscious, wanting to thank her ex for being there for Sarada when she couldn't.

No. That wasn't it. He had always been consistent from the beginning until now. But using that as an excuse didn't feel convincing—especially when she had deliberately avoided him in the past few weeks. Because...being around him meant that she couldn't stay still and be normal, feel things that shouldn't have a place in her heart anymore. Feelings that, if entertained would be irresponsible.

Because what's the point of fixing something irreparable, only for it to break again? 

Sakura could take it—having her heart broken over and over again. But if it was Sarada...the very thought of disappointing her daughter, placing her in a situation that could have—should have—been avoided from the start...it would be devastating. It would rip her heart apart in a way she wasn't sure she could ever recover from.

What happened between her and Sasuke couldn't be mended like a broken stuffed bunny. There's no such thing as a shop that heals old wounds and broken hearts. Because if there was, she would've taken herself there in a heartbeat.

Sarada's small form came running toward the doorway, yelling, "Mama!" as soon as Sakura stepped inside her apartment. Sasuke trailed behind their little girl, making sure she didn't stumble or bump her head on the shoe rack.

"Hi, sweetie. How was your day?" Sakura picked Sarada up and planted soft kisses on her hair.

Her darling girl flung her little arms around her neck and replied, Mama, I miss you." Hearing Sarada say that felt like there were tiny needles in her chest, poking it until it bleeds. She hadn't been around much these past few weeks because she was needed in the hospital more than ever.

The daimyo's seven-year-old granddaughter was taken to the hospital because of congenital heart defect. And as one of the few pediatric surgeons trusted with such delicate cases, Sakura had to be on-call day and night. The surgery itself was only part of it—the follow ups, keeping tabs on the patient, and the sheer weight of responsibility that came with saving someone so important left her running on little sleep and barely enough time to spend time with her child.

"Aww...I missed you too, darling." Sakura tightened her embrace, unable to help herself.

"Mama, you're crushing me!" Sarada squeaked, wriggling her arms.

"Sorry, sweetie," she said with a soft laugh, loosening her hold. "It's just that you're too precious."

"U-huh. Papa said that too." Sarada pouted, which made Sakura chuckle softly.

Sasuke cleared his throat, making his presence—which seemed to be forgotten by the girls—known. "I'm heading back." He said evenly, making his way to the door.

"Oh, you're not joining us for dinner?" Sakura bit her lip, almost mentally slapping herself for saying that. She should've just said "Okay" and let him go without a fuss. Her only hope now to escape the situation which she created was Sasuke's polite refusal.

But instead of answering right away, Sasuke paused. His dark eyes flickered briefly to Sarada, then back to her. The silence stretched, thick and unbearable, until finally he responded in that low, maddeningly calm voice of his—

"...Do you want me to stay?" He leaned forward, his dull eyes flickered in a way like he was reaching for the stars.

Without much of a choice but to play with this charade, Sakura answered, "O-of course. It's almost dinner time and I'm not that heartless to send you away when you might be hungry." Her words sounded casual, almost playful, but her heart was racing.

She hated how easily her mouth betrayed her, how quickly she folded when it came to him.

Dinner was a simple affair without much fuss—except for Sarada, who insisted being fed by Sakura, who barely got a single bite as she appeased her darling girl, who was more of a little gremlin right now than the sweet child she usually was.

Sarada often did this when she wanted her full attention, and it only made Sakura feel the sting of guilt sharper, reminding how little time she'd been able to spend as a mother because of work.

She envied those characters of the medical drama she binge-watched whenever she could. Because those doctors, despite their full schedules, were portrayed as people who had everything together, while juggling time between home and the hospital.

It wasn't like that for Sakura at all. Not now, when she still hadn't found a nanny for Sarada and her workload kept increasing despite pleading with Auntie Tsunade that she needed to divide her attention between the children's therapy center and her clinic hours.

Mikoto-san had offered to watch over Sarada many times, aside from picking her up from daycare whenever she couldn't. But Sakura couldn't let their situation become a burden to Sasuke's family, not when they already had their hands full with an elderly with dementia and another baby. She couldn't impose—it would be wrong. Too much even.

"No more, Mama." Sarada turned her head to the side, refusing the spoonful of mashed baby carrots even though she hadn't eaten much.

"Sweetie, just one more bite. Mama will read you the princess story that you liked." Sakura tried to negotiate with the toddler in front of her, but Sarada was adamant at not finishing her food.

"No, no more." Her little brows furrowed as she crossed her arms. Whenever Sarada threw a tantrum like this, she showed just how much she and her father were alike.

Sakura sighed and turned her gaze toward Sasuke, who was munching a piece of sliced tomato she prepared as a side dish. "I think your grouchiness has been rubbing off on your daughter."

"She's your daughter too, you know." Sasuke replied coolly, wiping his mouth with a napkin as he finished his meal. He glanced at the untouched plate in front of Sakura. All this time, she hadn't been able to take a single bite.

"Let me do it." He took the spoon from her before she could protest and turned to face Sarada, who was pouting.

There was something on his daughter's expression that always made him stop and stare—the curve of her mouth, the way she scrunched her nose, the shape of her eyes. Everyone told him that Sarada was his spitting image, his girl version. But to him, there were traces of Sakura in her, little things that reminded him of her. And looking at Sarada pulled him back to the certainty he once had, the he'd spend his life with Sakura.

That at one point, he allowed himself to dream, envisioning a future—this kind of domestic bliss with her.

But he hadn't done anything to keep it.

He hadn't done enough to make her stay.

Everything was his fault. He was the one who failed Sakura, blind to the doubts she carried and foolish enough to let his own actions feed them. He thought marriage alone was enough to assure her, the it would prove that his intentions were sincere, and there was no other woman in his heart.

If he had done things right from the beginning, he wouldn't be sitting here wishing things turned out to be better.

Sakura stared at Sasuke as he tried to coax their toddler into eating another bite. "Sarada, Papa will take you to a big park with a lot of toys and princesses if you finish your food."

"Reawy, Papa?" Sarada blinked, her eyes glimmered at the mention of "toys" and "princesses".

"Of course, if you're a good girl." Sasuke answered as he fed her another bite, which Sarada gobbled up happily.

He was the vision of doting father, something Sakura had never quite imagined back when they were together. She had always known he would love their children, but not like this—not with that expression etched with such softness and tenderness as his gaze was focused on Sarada.

Sasuke was never the type to openly show affection. Sure, they held hands, kissed, and did...stuff. But most of the time, she was the one initiated those little gestures of intimacy—at least the ones that didn't involve shutting the blinds or locking the door. And Sasuke let her, as long it wasn't a blatant public display of affection.

That's why it was...strange to see him like a perfect picture of a doting father. Who would've thought that Konoha's most ruthless lawyer—whose gaze could intimidate even the most hardened criminals—could be this soft for his daughter?

Sasuke offered to wash the dishes so Sakura could get Sarada ready for bed. Earlier, he had noticed the bags under her eyes and the weight she'd lost. From the way she looked, she seemed like she might collapse any moment. It frustrated him, seeing her push herself this far to the point she skipped meals and substituted those with caffeine, and even now, giving up her dinner just to appease Sarada when she could've asked him for help so she could take care of herself.

Word traveled fast in his circles, and he already knew she had been the one to perform surgery on the daimyo's granddaughter. That was why he had taken the initiative to watch Sarada—not that he minded—but it infuriated him that Sakura kept driving herself to the ground, berating herself for not being there, when all she really needed was to stop and rest. 

Ask for help.

...And rely on him more.

But no, Sakura had always been like that. She had the tendency to lose herself in her cases and forget that she, too, needed to take a break. Taking on the daimyo's granddaughter must have taken its toll on her. She was probably worried that one mistake would cost everything—that Madokka, that incompetent piece of shit, would retaliate and erase all the progress they had made for the children's therapy center, just as it was gaining traction and even drawing Danzo's attention.

Sasuke was almost done tidying up the kitchen, all that he needed to do was put the dishes in the drying rack. He wiped the counters clean just as his mother had taught him and washed the kitchen cloth before hanging it to dry.

After that, he placed the rice bowls, chopsticks, and plates in the dish rack. His movements around Sakura's kitchen were deliberate, almost instinctive, as if he had memorized how she arranged everything.

And he had.

He remembered it all—from where she kept the mugs to the cabinets where she stored her pots and pans. Those things weren't easy to forget, not when this was the very place where she once showed him how to make his favorite okaka onigiri. He was standing by the counter, watching as Sakura molded the rice with her hands, her dainty fingers sprinkling salt and tucking the bonito flakes into the center.

Sasuke looked around once more, taking in every detail. Relishing the past, those little moments that he had taken for granted.

Her kitchen haven't changed at all—the walls were still painted beige and the pastel pink tiles right by the sink were still there. So was the pink mug, the one he had bought her during their trip to Redaku.

That mug.

The pair to his blue one at the office.

Sasuke closed his eyes and took a deep breath, convincing himself that he must be seeing things. But when he opened his eyes, it was still there. He was definitely not hallucinating.

Sakura had kept hers after all these years—even after their bitter end.

A hundred questions ran through his mind. 'Why would she keep it?' Exes didn't hold on to mementos from a failed relationship, least of all from a marriage that never pushed through. There was no reason for Sakura to keep that mug. No reason for him to keep his either.

And yet, they both had.

The realization hit him hard.

They were still caught in the past, and neither of them had truly moved on.

It was Tuesday when Sakura received an email from Izumi, asking for her earliest availability that week for the filming of the explainer video about the children's therapy center. Izumi assured her it wouldn't take too much time since the shoot would be done in the city-owned newsroom with green screen as the background, eliminating the need to move locations. She also mentioned that they had already coordinated with Suna General Hospital for high-resolution photos of the center, so there was no need to for anyone to fly there or stress over logistics and filming equipment.

Sakura checked her calendar app. She was off on Friday and Saturday, and her leave on Sunday had already been approved by Dr. Senju. Of course, it didn't come without strings attached despite offering the packet of tea she bought from Naka district. Auntie Tsunade was well aware that Sunday was July 23rd, Sasuke's birthday.

He had texted her last week, asking her if she could clear her schedule on Sunday so they could take Sarada to Hoshi Land, about an hour's drive away from the city. And Sasuke, as if anticipating her refusal, followed it up with another message, "Sarada would be happy if you'd go with us."

How could she say no? Sarada had been babbling about it nonstop, brimming with excitement at the thought of meeting the princesses who lived in a beautiful castle and her favorite character, Kuro-chan the cat. In the end, Sakura replied that she'd file a leave so she could go with them.

A knock on the door brought her back to reality. It was Moegi, one of her residents.

"Dr. Haruno, it's time for your rounds."

When Sakura raised an eyebrow, the younger woman smiled awkwardly, "Umm...you asked me to remind you earlier."

"Oh. Sorry, I almost forgot. Thanks, Moegi!"

Once the sliding door shut, Sakura typed quick reply to Izumi's email on her laptop.

Hi, Senpai!

I could drop by on Friday. Let me know if it works!

Thanks,

Sakura

Her response was curt, though she tried to make it sound warm. Honestly, the idea of being left alone with Izumi still feels unsettling. The thought alone made her stomach churn. But it wasn't because she harbored ill feelings toward her former high school senior. It's just that, her relentless invitations to "catch up" seemed like she wanted to say something badly. And Sakura knew in her gut that it's about Sasuke, that if they talk, the conversation would center mostly on Sasuke. That was the one thing she wasn't ready to face with Izumi.

Nurses and other residents greeted her as Sakura passed through the halls of the hospital's pediatric ward. She offered them a kind smile as she flipped through the charts of her patients, while Moegi filled her in with report on Inari, the boy she had operated on yesterday. He was rushed to the hospital due to ruptured appendix, that was already in severe peritonitis by the time he was admitted. Emergency surgery had been the only option.

However, his grandfather didn't have a health card, since they had crossed the borders of Fire Country illegally from the Land of Waves. Fortunately, there was a charity organization that handled such cases—the Izuna Memorial Foundation, which covered hospital bills of indigent patients and even helped families like Inari's secure a citizenship in Konoha.

Sakura slid the door open and stepped inside. Inari lay curled slightly on his side, clutching a blanket with both hands. His eyes fluttered open when he sensed movement, but he didn't say anything.

"How's our little warrior doing today?" Sakura asked softly, in her Dr. Haruno voice, pulling up a stool beside the bed.

Inari's grandfather, Tazuna, straightened quickly. "He has been quiet most of the morning, Doc. But he hasn't complained of the pain, only that he feels tired."

Sakura nodded, leaning closer to the boy. "That's normal after surgery. Tired is okay. It means your body is healing." She glanced at the IV drip, then gently touched Inari's wrist to check his pulse. "Does your tummy still hurt?"

The boy's lips pressed together, then gave the faintest shake of his head.

His grandfather answered for him, his voice trembling in relief. "He says it doesn't hurt as much, not like before."

"That's good news." Dr. Haruno smiled, softening her tone for the boy. "You did really well yesterday, Inari-chan. You were very brave."

Once Sakura was done doing her rounds and giving instructions to her residents for monitoring, Sakura went back to her office. Her shift ends in thirty minutes, so she changed her scrubs into her regular clothes. Nothing too fancy, just a knitted striped blouse and black trousers, which she paired with white slip-on loafers.

Then, she checked her email again. There's a new message in her inbox from Izumi, which she opened immediately.

Friday is okay.

Thanks, Sakura-chan!

A copy of the script is attached to this email.

Btw, mom said thank you for the tea. That kind was her favorite.

A relaxed smile crossed her face upon reading the part that Mikoto-san loved the tea. It was not a big deal, but she wanted to thank Sasuke's mother for everything she'd done for her and Sarada...but most of all, for respecting her space. Sakura's gaze lingered on Izumi's email then she opened the file, scanning it quickly before ultimately deciding that she'd print it out and read the rest at home.

It was a little past eight in the evening when she arrived home. The first thing Sakura wanted was a long, hot bath to soothe her aching bones. Maybe even light a scented candle for extra relaxation.

But the moment she stepped into her living room, she stopped short. Sasuke was seated on her L-shaped couch, with papers sprawled across the coffee table. He was absorbed in the document he was reading that he had his glasses on, and—of all things—a bunny hair clip pinned to the side of his head. Sarada's hair clip. It kept a few stubborn strands from falling into his eyes.

Without his hair shielding his face, Sakura couldn't help but notice how sharper his jawlines seemed while he was focused. His brows drew into a frown—the same one Sarada wore whenever she was occupied with her favorite cartoon—as his gaze skimmed over the papers. When Sasuke couldn't find what he was looking for, he clicked his pen aggressively. A habit of his whenever he was deep in thought.

"You look busy," she said at last.

Sasuke staggered, nearly dropping the stapled document on the floor. He turned to her with a scowl, clearly startled, although he'd never admit it.

He cleared his throat and schooled his expression. "Yeah, I'm reviewing an ordinance," Then he removed his glasses and slumped back against the couch.

"Where's Sarada?" Sakura set her handbag on the coffee table before sinking into the seat, stretching her legs across the carpet. They ached from hours of walking and standing in the OR. Honestly, she could fall asleep right there. That couch was one of her best purchases and it was comfy enough to knock her out in minutes.

"She's asleep. I put her to bed an hour ago." Sasuke massaged his temples, another habit of his whenever a case was starting to become tedious.

Back then, Sakura would always ask about the cases he was handling, especially during their cafe dates when they worked away from their usual environments and enjoy each other's company in silence. Sasuke would answer, though never in detail. He couldn't share much—it wouldn't have been ethical—but she liked hearing what little he offered, and how his voice shifted from his lawyer persona to the man who held her hand while they walked under the night sky, talking about their future together.

She bit down her bottom lip upon the memory. Her eyes peered over Sasuke, who was still slumped on the couch with his eyes closed. Sakura wanted to despise him, but it was like asking the gods to make him disappear from her—and Sarada's life forever. He hasn't done anything that invades her space, yet his presence always robbed her off rational thought, make the walls she'd built crumble in an instant.

"I'll go check on her." Sakura stretched her arms and tried to stifle a yawn. Going on with the pretense that everything was fine. She rambled about wanting to wash up and collapse on her bed. That tomorrow she had an early surgery scheduled, followed by a lecture, and that she's anticipating that she'd have a long day ahead at work as usual. Then she stood up and grabbed her bag, wanting to flee before things become more awkward.

But then—

"Sakura." 

Silence stretched between them.

"Hmm?"

"Do you mind if I crash here? It's a long drive back to my place, and I need to finish this tonight."

She didn't give it a second thought and replied, "Okay." in a monotone voice. Then she added, "Could you take Sarada to daycare? I—"

"You have an early surgery." Sasuke locked his eyes on her, but Sakura averted her gaze.

"Sure, I'll do that. Thanks for letting me stay." 

Sakura stood there for a moment, and held her breath as she watched Sasuke leaf through the papers sprawled on the coffee table. It wouldn't the first time her ex spent the night at her place—in fact, he practically lived here while the daimyo's grandchild was her patient. Because unlike her grueling twelve-hour shifts, Sasuke could get off work at five, sometimes even earlier, which made it easier for him to pick up Sarada from daycare and watch over their daughter until she came home.

Sasuke lives on the other side of the city, nearly an hour away with Konoha's infernal traffic.

And yet...

He still rushed over everyday for Sarada, even though she thought that he would never commit. But Sasuke... he never once complained, even if the dark circles under his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

But what does it have to do with her? Is it her fault that he hasn't been getting much sleep? That he's tired?

'That was his choice, not mine.' Sakura tried to rationalize with herself, dismissing the heaviness unfurling in her chest—her heart tightening as if it was being ripped apart by every lie she had deluded herself to believe. Who was she kidding? Until now, there was still a part of her that cared. She wasn't supposed to, but how could she stop her heart from feeling, when it ached for Sasuke—craved his presence, his touch—everything.

Even though he never said that he was sorry for breaking her heart too many times she had already lost count.

"Sakura, is there something wrong?" Sasuke set aside the paper he was reading as he looked at her.

But she didn't meet his eyes.

She couldn't. Not when those dark pools could make her lose resolve completely, the one that she had painstakingly built along with the walls, the only fortress that remained, guarding her heart... and keeping the space between them.

"No, I..." Sakura's eyes stung as she tried to come up with something, anything to keep Sasuke from prying.

Back then, all she could muster was, "I'm going to bed. Good night, Sasuke." before retreating to her room as if it was the safest place in her apartment.

As if it could keep her from Sasuke forever.

'This. This is what you're good at Sakura. Running away.'

Because it made things easier.

Easier than telling Sasuke everything.

Easier than peeling back scars she’d worked so hard to hide.

Easier than trying to fix something she already knew was broken.

The moment she shut the door, her strength gave out. Her knees buckled, her body folding against the wood as if even the door itself was the only thing holding her upright.

And then it all came undone.

Sakura pressed her forehead to her arms, trying to hold herself together, but the sobs broke free anyway—raw, ragged, years of restraint spilling out in one flood. She had been holding it in since the day he walked back into her life, since the day those dark eyes of his found her again and—without permission—unlocked everything she thought she’d buried.

And God, she hated herself for it. For still wanting him. For still aching like this.

Because after all these years, the truth had never changed.

She loved Sasuke.

She loves him still.

So much it tore at her chest, sharp enough to make breathing itself feel like punishment.

Chapter Text

Sasuke’s subordinates nearly did a double take upon seeing him in the pantry, seated as if it had been his routine for lunch all along. Their boss—who was usually nonchalant and skipped meals—was there, savoring an onigiri like it was the most delectable thing he had ever tasted. Nobody dared to step inside, fearing their presence might sour Atty. Uchiha’s mood. They had all witnessed it before, how quickly it could escalate into overtime and relentless tasks.

His frequent mood swings had even earned him the nickname demon among the younger staff, who were often on the receiving end of his biting criticism over their “sloppy” and “incoherent” reports. Still, Sasuke knew how to acknowledge those who were consistent in their work—the ones who refused mediocrity and strove to go above and beyond. His praises, however, were limited to just two words: “Good job.” Nothing more, nothing less.

Despite that, there were those brave—or foolish—enough to flip his switch. Like a certain blond knucklehead, who, despite being the hokage’s only son, was never spared from Sasuke’s cruelty. Naruto was the only one stupid enough to waltz into the pantry and disturb the demon’s quiet reprieve, while he savored the rest of his lunch as though it had been gifted to him by the gods.

“Wow! Fancy seeing you here, bastard.” Naruto plopped down across from Sasuke, who didn’t even care to look at him or greet his self-proclaimed best friend.

The blond idiot narrowed his eyes at his best friend who was scrolling through his phone, holding a half-eaten rice ball on his other hand. 

“What, are those rice balls so good you’re ignoring your best friend?” Naruto teased, leaning over the table.

Sasuke didn’t even flinch, nor cared enough to respond.

The hokage’s son smirked, reaching for the last one sitting on Sasuke’s bento—only to have his hand slapped away in an instant. 

“This is mine, idiot.” Sasuke hissed, glaring at the numbskull across him.

“You’re the idiot! It’s just a rice ball, why won’t you give it to me?” Naruto snapped back.

Sasuke pulled the bento closer to his side, as if he was protecting a piece of treasure. “Go buy your own lunch and keep your filthy hands off mine.”

Naruto gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Filthy?! I see nothing filthy here except your rotten personality, bastard.” 

Instead of retorting, Sasuke simply grabbed the remaining rice ball from the bento box and took a deliberate bite. He chewed slowly, ignoring Naruto, once again relishing the taste—picturing the hands that had prepared it for him.

“It’s written all over your face, bastard,” Naruto grinned like Cheshire cat, leaning back in his chair. “Sakura-chan made those rice balls, didn’t she?”

Sasuke almost choked out, but as always, he managed to keep his composure. He shot his self-proclaimed best friend a look, fully aware of the prying gazes from a few of his staff who were stupid enough to eavesdrop on his exchange with this idiot.

“You should get back to work, Dobe.” Sasuke stood up, carrying the bento box to the sink. Sakura had left him a note earlier, warning of the consequences if he didn’t return it one piece.

He rinsed the container under the tap, silently thankful that his mother had drilled him and Itachi in household chores. At least he could return the container “in one piece” without stubborn stains sticking out. 

Still, the simple act carried more weight than it should. 

When Sasuke first saw the bento earlier, he wasn’t sure if that was meant for him. He blinked in disbelief, wondering why would Sakura do this for him. Sure, their interactions weren’t hostile even though a few weeks before she had been avoiding him like plague. 

There was a note on top of the lid, written in her precise, unhurried hand: Make sure to give back this container later. He shouldn’t give too much meaning to it. In fact, the note was plain, almost cold. As if she were saying “I made too much so I’m giving these to you.” 

Sakura hadn’t offered anything beyond the bare minimum of words. And yet, against his better judgement, he was giving too much meaning to her actions. Because for all its simplicity, it was still her hand that prepared his lunch—his favorite—still her thought, however passing, that had reached him.

Sasuke had spent most of the morning caught between hesitation and foolish hope. Was this just convenience? Pity? Or something she hadn’t even thought twice about? Whatever it was, it wasn’t meant to mean anything, and he knew better than to twist it into something it wasn’t.

Still, the words her typed out had felt heavier than they should have: Thanks. And a picture of the rice balls that Sakura had made for him.

There was nothing more to it.

Because if this was all Sakura could give him now—small gestures, an uneasy truce built around Sarada—then he would take it. He would swallow down everything else, his questions, his regrets, the ache that gnawed at him whenever she was near.

For now, he’d accept it. But deep down, Sasuke wondered how long he could keep deluding himself that “just this” was enough.

For the first time in a long while, Dr. Senju joined Sakura for lunch. The older woman had insisted on treating her, claiming she’d heard from Dr. Orochimaru that the cafeteria was serving braised beef. 

They were halfway through their trays when Tsunade leaned back in her chair, eyeing her goddaughter with a look that was half curious, half calculating. “So, how’s Sarada? I haven’t seen her that much since you moved back.”

“She’s good,” Sakura replied, her chopsticks pausing midair. “She spends her weekends with Sasuke.”

“No wonder I haven’t been seeing that little monster lately.” Tsunade muttered, her lips curled into a pout at the thought that Mikoto and her husband might be seeing Sarada more often than she did.

“Oh, come on! You already have your hands full with the hospital, I can’t possibly ask you to babysit Sarada.” Sakura said with a laugh. She knew well that Tsunade doted on her daughter like her own grandchild, maybe even more than Sarada’s paternal grandparents did.

Tsunade arched a brow, swirling her glass of water before setting it down with a soft clink. “And how about you? How have you been taking things lately?”

“Yes, you.” Dr. Senju’s mouth curved faintly, but her eyes were sharp. “Mikoto filled me in a little. You know how much of a chatterbox she is. She mentioned something about you joining them when they celebrated Itachi’s birthday.”

Sakura gave her a look, the kind that begged to leave the subject alone. But Auntie Tsunade never was one to be dissuaded by silence. She pressed on. “Well?”

There was no point beating around the bush or denying it—this was Auntie Tsunade, the woman who had raised her. Someone who could read her thoughts and actions effortlessly. Eventually, this talk would revolve around her feelings and Tsunade wouldn’t stop until she squeezes the truth out from her.

Sakura let out a quiet breath, lowering her chopsticks. “I realized that I still have feelings for Sasuke.” She admitted. 

What she didn’t say—and what she wasn’t going to tell her godmother—was how she’d spent her morning making rice balls for her ex. It was stupid. She shouldn’t have done that. What if he thought it meant something, that she was trying to cross the line they’d both silently agreed not to touch? Well… Sasuke wouldn’t be wrong. She did still have feelings for him. But that didn’t make it any less foolish.

Tsunade wasn’t shocked at her goddaughter’s confession. She didn’t even blink. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, as if she’d expected Sakura to say that all along. “How does it feel, admitting it to yourself?”

“Auntie, honestly, I don’t know,” Sakura said truthfully. She sighed as her gaze dropped to her half-finished food. She couldn’t act on her feelings alone—that would be irresponsible. She had Sarada to think of. Every choice she made had to be measured against her darling girl’s happiness. Besides… she wasn’t even sure how Sasuke felt about her. He might still be carrying resentment against her because she’d kept Sarada from him, that she had made decisions for the both of them without giving him a say.

Her only hope was that this fragile act between them—pretending everything was fine, pretending there were no resentments festering beneath the surface—would last until the end. Because this was easier. Ignoring the feelings that were left unresolved between them, pushing aside the words left unsaid made their interactions smoother, less jagged. Less painful. It was a truce built on silence, and for now, silence was kinder than the truth.

Dr. Senju’s eyes softened. “You know, I’m not telling you this as your parent, but as someone who’s been there. With Dan… I’ve told you before we didn’t end things amicably. After breaking up with him, I drowned myself in work and pretended I was fine with everything. But when I heard that he was getting married, I almost crashed. That’s when I realized I still had feelings for him.”

Sakura blinked, her voice quiet. “What are you trying to say, Auntie?”

“I’m saying that—“

“Tsunade-sama! They’re here.” Dr. Shizune’s frantic voice cut through. She stood at the edge of their table, her eyes flicking quickly to Sakura before returning to Dr. Senju.

Tsunade’s expression tightened for a moment before she schooled it back into calm. Which was odd…despite her position as the hospital’s director, Dr. Senju’s temper never toned down. Moments like this, such as her meal time being interrupted by anything but a situation that required her immediate attention, would make her lose her cool.

“Auntie, is everything alright?” Sakura asked.

“Huh? Yes, everything’s fine. You have nothing to worry about.” Tsunade rose from her seat, straightening her coat. “I’m sorry, Sakura. We’ll have to cut our lunch short. I have a meeting to attend.”

Sakura nodded, but inside, doubt gnawed at her. No, something wasn’t fine. The way Shizune’s tone had shifted, the way Tsunade’s mask had slipped for half a second—it didn’t sit right with her. Whatever that meeting was, it carried a weight that told her things weren’t looking good.

She stayed in the cafeteria after Tsunade and Shizune left, staring absently at her tray as her thoughts circled back to that brief exchange. It unsettled her, the feeling that her godmother was holding something back. 

Her phone buzzed against the table, snapping her out of her thoughts. Moegi’s name flashed across the screen.

“Dr. Haruno,” came Moegi’s voice when she answered, “just reminding you it’s time for your rounds.”

“Right. Thanks, Moegi,” Sakura said, rising from her seat. She tossed her tray into the return bin. Her thoughts about Auntie Tsunade lingered but she would deal with it later. 

Sakura busied herself for the rest of her shift, catching up with the latest medical journals she had missed and the progress of the children’s therapy center in Suna. In her last email, Temari said that her brother, the Kazekage, had recently approved plans to improve the center in Suna along with the hospital facilities that were left to decay under the previous administration.

When Friday came, Sakura was getting ready to drop off Sarada at the daycare. Her little girl was already dressed and glued to the television, giggling at her favorite morning cartoons. As much as she wanted to limit Sarada’s screen time, Sakura wasn’t above using it as a distraction when she needed a few extra minutes to get herself together. At least the program Sarada loved most wasn’t filled with flashing, oversaturated colors—it was gentler on the eyes, simple enough not to overwhelm, and harmless enough to buy Sakura the time she needed.

Izumi had reminded her yesterday that she didn’t need to worry about makeup or hair since there would be a stylist who would handle everything. All she had to do was to show up on time. 

That would have been easy if her three-year old had been cooperative. But no amount of coaxing, not even promises of toys and candy, could convince Sarada to let go of her.

“Noooo! I want Mama.” Sarada wailed, her small hands gripping Sakura’s leg like iron clamps while her teacher tried to pry her away.

Sakura winced, crouching down to meet her darling girl’s teary eyes. “Sweetheart, Mama just needs to work for a little while. You’ll play with your friends, and before you know it, I’ll be back to pick you up.”

But the sobs only grew louder, Sarada’s cheeks turning pink as she buried her face against her mother.

Sakura let out a sigh, she glanced at the clock—she couldn’t afford to be late. “I’m sorry,” she told the teacher, giving her an apologetic smile. “Looks like it’s not going to work today. I’ll take Sarada with me.”

The teacher nodded with understanding though the pink haired doctor could see the concern in her eyes. With Sarada still glued to her side, Sakura hoisted her daughter onto her hip.

“Alright then, darling. Looks like you’re coming with Mama,” she whispered, brushing the little girl’s hair from her damp cheeks.

Sarada hiccuped between sobs but clung tighter, her small arms wrapping securely around her mother’s neck—as if she was scared that letting go would make her mama disappear.

When Sakura arrived at the newsroom with Sarada still clinging to her, she spotted Izumi waiting by the entrance. 

“I’m so sorry,” Sakura said right away, adjusting her daughter on her hip. “She didn’t want to be left in the daycare, and I couldn’t calm her down.”

Izumi’s smile was easy, reassuring. “It’s fine, Sakura-chan. I’ll keep an eye on this cutie while you get ready.” She coaxed Sarada gently, her voice playful. “Come on, Sara-chan. Want me to show you something fun?”

Sarada hesitated but eventually allowed herself to be carried off, her curiosity winning over stubbornness.

As Sakura disappeared toward the prep room, Izumi stepped outside of the newsroom and showed her niece around. She started with the park, right in front of the main building—with tall trees towering over the area. She pointed at the statue facing the building and told her about Hashirama Senju, Grandpa Madara’s friend. 

When the summer heat was starting to get relentless, Izumi carried Sarada through the main hall, pointing out familiar spots such as the gallery of the previous hokage as they went, until they reached the floor were Sasuke’s office was located. 

The door to his offices stood open, and even from a distance, his sharp voice carried through. 

Inside, tension gripped the room. His staff kept their heads down, silently enduring the weight of their boss’s reprimand. “The transmittal should have been on the council’s desk yesterday. Do you even realize how this derails the entire schedule—“

The office door was ajar, and every pair of eyes turned when Izumi stepped inside, with a little girl perched on her hip.

“Papa!” Sarada squealed, her small voice cutting through the heavy silence.

Sasuke stopped mid-sentence. His scowl faltered, his stern face softened as his gaze fell on Sarada. In two strides, he crossed the office, his earlier anger had dissipated as if it had never existed.

“Papa!” Sarada giggled again as she reached for him.

Sasuke took her into his arm, holding her close. The “demon” his staff knew had vanished and was replaced by a papa whose entire world seemed to narrow to the little girl in his arms.

Sasuke’s subordinates, however weren’t so quick to recover. Wide-eyed, they exchanged looks, whispers slipping out despite themselves.

“Did she just call Atty. Uchiha, papa?”

“He had a kid?”

“But when did he even get married?”

Izumi caught their murmurs and arched a brow, sharp enough to cut them off.

Her phone buzzed then, pulling her attention away. She answered quickly, her voice clipped, before placing it back into the pocket of her tailored slacks. “Can you watch Sara-chan for a while? Just until her mom’s finished filming.”

“Aa.” Sasuke replied.

At the mention of Sarada’s mom, the entire department seemed to perk up, curiosity sharpening in the air. Her mom? The unspoken question passed like a current between them.

Sasuke’s jaw tightened, but he ignored their stares. His focus was on Sarada, who had nestled comfortably against his shoulder, utterly at ease—as though none of the outside noise mattered.

It was almost lunch when Sasuke’s phone buzzed. It was a message from Sakura.

I’m done with the filming. I’ll head to your office to take Sarada home.

He stared at the screen for a moment before typing back. I already ordered food for us. It would be a waste since I got a lot. Although he hadn’t placed an order. Heck, he didn’t even have any food delivery apps installed.

The reply came quickly. That’s fine, you can share it with your officemates instead.

“Tch.” Sasuke’s scowl deepened as he set the the phone down. That wasn’t the answer he wanted.

He rang the intercom button in the conference room and Jugo, his assistant, appeared at the door almost immediately. “Yes, sir?”

Sasuke pulled his black card from wallet and handed it over. “Take everyone out for lunch. My treat.” His tone left no room for argument. “Before you go, call Tami’s. Have them deliver an Imperial Lunch Set here.”

Jugo froze for a fraction of a second, caught off guard, then gave a brisk nod before strutting outside the conference room. First, he called the restaurant, then informed the rest of the staff—who wouldn’t dare linger once were told that the “demon” was treating them for lunch.

Once the arrangements were in motion, Sasuke picked up his phone again and sent his reply. All of my staff are going out for lunch.

Sarada had claimed a corner of the long conference table, her crayons scattered across a sheet of paper he’d fished from a stack of scratch papers. She paused mid-doodle and tilted her head at him, her wide eyes full of curiosity. “Is Papa angry?”

Sasuke turned from his phone, the scowl on his face easing as he met her his daughter’s gaze. “No, Sarada,” he replied softly. After a pause, he searched for something she’d understand. “Papa is just… hungry.”

Her little brows knitted together, and she mimicked his earlier scowl with uncanny precision. “Sarada is hungry too,” she declared, puffing her chubby cheeks like a tiny mirror of him.

The corner of Sasuke’s mouth twitched—almost a smile. Sakura was right, his grouchiness was rubbing off their little girl. He reached across the table, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “We’ll eat soon. Let’s wait for Sakura first, okay?”

“You really weren’t kidding when you said you ordered a lot,” was the first thing Sakura said as soon as she stepped into the conference room.

“Mama!” Sarada lit up, scrambling down from her chair the moment she saw her mother in the doorway.

Sakura quickly crossed the room, crouching low to sweep her daughter into her arms. She placed a flurry of kisses to Sarada’s cheeks, savoring her giggles. “Hi, baby, Did you behave for Papa?”

Sarada nodded vigorously, then looked back at her dad as if seeking his confirmation.

Sasuke leaned back, a faint glint of mischief flickered in his eyes as he met Sarada’s expectant gaze. “I don’t know…” he drawled.

Sarada’s little mouth fell into a pout, her cheeks puffing. “Mama, Sarada was a good girl,” she whined, tugging at her mother’s sleeve for backup.

“I’m sure you were, sweetie.” Sakura said, giving Sasuke a look that warned him not to tease their daughter too much.

But when his lips curved into the faintest smile, Sakura caught it. Heat rushed to her cheeks before she could stop it, and she quickly looked away, pretending to fuss with Sarada instead.

The whole time they were eating, Sakura found herself stealing glances at her ex. Sasuke sat beside Sarada, patient and attentive as he gently guided each spoonful toward her mouth. His eyes softened whenever she giggled, while his voice was calm, almost soothing as he coaxed her to take another bite. There was a quiet warmth in the way he focused on their daughter, making sure she ate every bite without complaint.

All of a sudden, Sasuke spoke, his tone maddeningly casual. “I could feel you staring at me, Sakura.”

Sakura’s chopsticks froze midair. “I-I’m not!” she blurted out, quickly averting her gaze. She tried to keep her composure, but she was beginning to feel that familiar heat rising up to her cheeks. Her mind was suddenly fuzzy, unable to think and it was this man’s fault.

She kept her gaze away from Sasuke, but from the corner of her eye, she could see his lips curling into a smirk. “I only said that I could feel you staring… I never said I didn’t like it,” he murmured, almost under his breath.

Sakura’s heart lurched, thundering so loud she was sure Sasuke and Sarada could hear it. Thump. Thump. Thump. Her heart was going crazy, it was stupid. Besides, how could this man flirt like that in front of their daughter? He was definitely flirting right?

She quickly finished her meal and once she was done, she stood up, determined to regain her composure. “Thanks for the food.”

Sakura hoisted Sarada in her arms and whispered that she should say bye to her papa. But as they were about to leave, his voice followed her—smooth and deliberate. “See you on Sunday.”

That same smirk curved his mouth, the one that had always made her legs turn to jelly…even back in high school.

She bit the inside of her cheek, fighting the urge to fire back with something sharp—or worse, something honest. Admitting to herself that she still carried feelings for her ex was one thing. But acting on it? That was out of the question. Not now. Not when she had Sarada to think of.

Everything in her life revolved around her daughter. Even back in Suna, when men had pursued her with kind words and open hearts, but she couldn’t bring herself to date any of them. Not when she was still shackled to these unrequited feelings, not when her whole world was Sarada. And for the past three years, that had been enough. Her darling girl had been enough.

But standing here again, with Sasuke’s eyes on her and that damn smirk tugging at his lips, Sakura felt the walls she’d built around herself—around her heart—splintering piece by piece. The space between them wasn’t just closing; it was collapsing, pulling her into dangerous territory where every beat of her heart betrayed her.

Sakura wished Sunday wouldn’t come. With her thoughts circling around Sasuke, she needed something to drown it all out. So instead of watching her favorite medical drama, she packed Sarada into the car and drove to the hospital. Work would keep her sane. A few hours immersing herself in medical journals, a handful of cases to review—anything that demanded her focus, anything to keep her from slipping back into thoughts of him.

She’d done it before, when she left Sasuke. Drowned herself with work, pushed for a hospital with meager resources to innovate and address its gaps—she did all of these while she was getting ready to give birth. Then she finished her residency with flying colors as soon she returned from her maternity leave.

And Sakura did it all alone. 

Auntie Tsunade had flown to Suna a few times, but those short visits only covered handful of nights when Sakura was running on scraps of sleep. The hospital had a daycare, although it was nothing like the facilities she’d known back home, but it was enough. On the days her shifts stretched endlessly, she’d leave Sarada there, then spend what little rest she had in the breastfeeding area, half-asleep with a breast pump by her side.

Looking back, she couldn’t remember ever stopping to breathe, much less reaching out. Somehow, she had powered through the endless rotations, the nights she cried herself to sleep, the loneliness, with no one else’s hands to hold her.

Sakura carried all of it while resenting Sasuke—loving him and hating him at the same time. On the nights when exhaustion finally broke her down and she let herself cry, the question that haunted her was always the same: Why wasn’t I enough?

There were moments when she caught herself reaching for her phone, desperate to call him, to hear his voice, only to remember why she had walked away in the first place. And so, she swallowed her pride, wiped her tears, and focused on her dreams while raising the proof of her love and hers alone. 

Her darling girl, Sarada. She would live for her, vowing to herself that she wouldn’t love anyone but her daughter.

That’s why… if she’d been able to bury her feelings for Sasuke before, she could do it again. She would do it again.

She was almost finished reading Dr. Orochimaru’s newly published article about advances in pancreatic cancer and the challenges of early diagnosis. It was an interesting read since it underscored how rare early detection happens despite promising imaging techniques. Survival chances remained slim, more so when the disease had progressed so far.

It was almost 4:00 PM when Sakura decided it was time to go home. She gathered her things quietly, careful not to make too much noise, before moving to the cream-colored couch where Sarada lay fast asleep. Her little girl was curled up with Usagi-chan nestled against her chest—the same doll she once treasured as a child, now passed down to Sarada who had claimed it as her newest treasure.

Sakura crouched beside her, brushing a few stray strands of hair from Sarada’s forehead. “Time to wake up, sweetheart,” she whispered softly, placing a kiss on her temple.

Sarada stirred, her tiny fingers tightening around the plushie before her eyes blinked sleepily. “Mama…” she murmured, still heavy with drowsiness.

Sakura smiled as she helped her little girl sit up. “Come on, let’s go home.”

With Sarada still clinging to her stuffed bunny, Sakura hoisted her onto her hip, balancing her bag with the other hand as they made their way to the lobby. The hospital wasn’t that busy at this hour and she hardly received any calls nor messages since Shizune was covering for her.

Just as they reached the glass door, a familiar figure stepped inside. It was Dr. Senju. Her shoulders were slumped while her golden hair was tied back hastily while deep shadows in her eyes clearly showed her exhaustion.

“Auntie,” Sakura greeted, surprise flickering across her face. “You look tired…are you okay?”

“I’m fine, dear.” Tsunade replied quickly, waving off the concern. “Just came out of an eight-hour surgery, that’s all.”

Before Sakura could press further, Sarada perked up at the sight of her grandmother. “Granny Tsuna!” she chirped, wriggling down from her mother’s arms to run over.

The stern lines on Tsunade’s face softened instantly as she bent to scoop Sarada up. “Ah, my sweet girl—you just saved my day.”

“I miss you, granny.” Sarada burrowed her face in Tsunade’s nape. A tired laugh escaped the older woman, warmth breaking through her fatigue. “Me too, sweetie. Granny missed you so much.”

Sakura smiled at the sight, though worry tugged at her. “Are you sure you’re really okay, Auntie?”

Dr. Senju only gave her a smile that said everything’s fine. Although Sakura wasn’t convinced. Just like the other day, she had felt it—something was off, there was something her godmother wasn’t saying.

She didn’t push, Tsunade looked worn thin from the surgery or whatever it was that she has been keeping. So Sakura swallowed her questions, forcing a smile in return, even when uneasiness sat heavy in her

“Happy birthday, Papa!” Sarada’s cheerful voice greeted Sasuke when Sakura’s door opened. She was grinning wide while she held a small gift bag with cookies inside. “Mama and I made it.”

Sasuke blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the burst of energy that filled the silence of Sakura’s doorstep. Sarada thrust the bag toward him with both hands, her smile was so wide it nearly crinkled her eyes shut.

Sakura looked down, hiding her face as that familiar heat crept up her cheeks once again. ‘I shouldn’t have made those’ she thought. But it had been Sarada’s idea—her sweet little girl had insisted last night after watching an episode of Kuro-chan’s Bakery, where the glum black cat with droopy eyes baked cookies for his friend’s birthday.

“Mama! Let’s bake cookies for Papa,” Sarada had said, her eyes glimmered with excitement. And so they did. Sakura handled the baking while her daughter eagerly scattered chocolate chips over the batter, completely unaware that her dad wasn’t much of a fan of sweets.

Sakura didn’t dare glance at Sasuke, not even when he uttered “Thank you, Sarada” in a soft voice.

According to the navigation map, the drive to Hoshi Land wouldn’t take an hour since the traffic was light in the express way. In the car, Sakura and Sarada were seated in the backseat. Sarada was absorbed in Teacher Kabuto’s Show, singing along to the Alphabet Song and other nursery rhymes. 

Sakura, on the other hand, kept her eyes on her phone, mindlessly scrolling through her social media account while switching to their digital passes, double checking the details written there. Anything to keep her attention away from him. From her peripheral view, though, she caught sight of Sasuke’s hand on the steering wheel, while the other was holding a half-eaten cookie.

He was actually eating them.

Her chest tightened. ‘He doesn’t even like sweets.’

Before she could stop herself, her gaze remained a second too long.

“Has it become a habit of yours?” Sasuke’s voice cut through the silence. His eyes stayed on the road, but she could hear the edge of amusement in his tone. “Staring at me?”

Heat shot up her neck. “I wasn’t staring,” she retorted quickly, forcing her tone flat. “I was looking at the view outside.” Although the “view” was nothing more than a stretch of cars lined up on the tollway.

She wanted to curse him. 

But then, from the rearview mirror, there it was again—that damn smirk playing at his lips.

At the gates of Hoshi Land, Sasuke took charge of everything. From scanning their digital passes to carrying Sarada in his arms while the bag packed with their daughter’s clothes, snacks, and water bottle was on his shoulder. Sakura didn’t even get the chance to step in; he’d already handled it all as though it was the most natural thing to do.

The moment they crossed the entrance, Sarada’s face lit up, especially when her dad stepped inside the souvenir shop. She squirmed from her papa's hold, begging to be let down. And when he did, Sarada pointed toward plush toys, bunny ears, and glittery headbands, her delighted squeals echoing with every discovery.

Sasuke kept close, stooping down whenever she tugged at him, letting her chatter about which headband or toy was the “cutest”. Sakura trailed behind them, watching as Sarada grabbed a fuzzy pair of cat ears—black with pink centers.

“You can only pick one, sweetie,” Sakura reminded gently.

The little girl’s lips pressed into a pout. Not even a second later, Sarada tugged at Sasuke’s shirt, pleading, “Papa, buy this one too!” 

Before Sakura could intervene, a sales staff approached with a bright a smile. “If you’d like you can get three pairs at a discounted price.”

“There’s no need,” Sakura interjected, shaking her head. “One is enough.”

But Sasuke plucked two more sets of cat ears from the rack and headed for the counter without another word. Sakura couldn’t do anything to stop him since he already pulled out his black card—the one that had no limit—to pay. All she could do was let out a quiet sigh, torn between exasperation and the faint, reluctant warmth that always crept in whenever he spoiled their daughter.

The rest of afternoon blurred into a string of snapshots. Sakura made sure to capture Sarada at every photo spot—her daughter grinning beside the flower-shaped arch, laughing in front of the candy-colored fountain, and waving from the carousel as Sasuke rode in one of the painted horses with her.

They capped it off with the parade along the main street. Sarada squealed in delight, waving with both hands at the princesses and shrieking with joy when Kuro-chan’s oversized mascot waddled past. Sakura’s phone storage was almost full, but she couldn’t stop herself from taking more pictures. She wanted to remember her daughter’s laughter echoing between the floats.

By the time the crowd dispersed, Sarada had dozed off in her stroller (it was a good thing that they had brought it after all). Sasuke steered them toward an empty bench just outside the castle gates, where the fireworks would be later. He disappeared briefly, only to return with two steaming pork buns in hand, one of which he offered to her.

They ate in silence while the muffled noise of the park washed over them. Sakura glanced at the stroller, at Sarada’s peaceful face, then at Sasuke. “Thanks for taking Sarada here,” she murmured. She almost added me too—that she was glad to be here as well—but the words caught in her throat.

A long pause stretched between them, then Sasuke’s voice broke it, low and steady. “Sakura… can I change Sarada’s surname to Uchiha?”

Her head snapped toward him, her brows knitting together. “Why?”

“She’s my daughter,” Sasuke replied without hesitation. “It’s only right that she has my name and for her name to be included in the family register. Besides, it’s for her protection.”

The word lingered between them—protection. Sakura understood exactly what he meant. The kind of shield only the Uchiha name could provide, the weight it carried in both the political and social fabric of Konoha.

Her fingers tightened around the warm bun in her hands. “I’m making enough money for the two of us.”

“That’s not the point.” Sasuke’s gaze flicked to Sarada, then back to her. “If something happens to me, I want her to have everything.”

Sakura’s chest constricted. It should have been simple—what parent wouldn’t want their child to have that kind of security? Besides, with his family’s backing, Sarada could be whatever she wanted, have access to resources that would explore her potential and get into college without worrying about student loans.

But what if Sasuke decides to marry another woman? Would Sarada still have a place in that world, or would she be cast aside, bearing a name that chained her to people who no longer wanted her?

“You don’t have to know answer now, Sakura. Just think about it,” Sasuke continued, his voice low, deliberate. “I want to be part of every aspect of Sarada’s life. I can’t just be a father who shows up on weekends.”

He could’ve pressed harder, could’ve wielded sharpness as before—but he didn’t. Threats would only drive her further away, and that wasn’t what he wanted. Not now, when he wanted Sakura’s trust. He wanted the two of them to work as a team—as Sarada’s parents, no matter how complicated things were between them.

Sakura swallowed, her heat thudding in her chest. A part of her wanted to push back, to stall, to guard the fragile balance she and Sarada had built these past three years. But when she looked at Sasuke, when she thought of their little girl’s bright smile earlier and how much she loved to be with her father, the words slipped out before Sakura could stop herself.

“Okay fine… have it your way.”

Sasuke’s eyes softened. Relief crossed his face. “Thank you.”

But as she lowered her gaze, her thoughts darkened. ‘Please don’t give me a reason to regret this, Sasuke.’

And then the night erupted in color.

The first crack of fireworks split the air, followed by a cascade of light blooming across the sky. Sakura tilted her head back, her face washed in shifting hues of red, blue, and gold. It was beautiful, but the sight pulled her back to their high school festival—that night in their senior year, when her heart had splintered beneath the same dazzling light, each boom of the fireworks sealing the ache in her chest.

This time, though, the fireworks seemed to cradle the full moon, amplifying its brilliance. 

Sakura breathed out slowly, as if steering herself against the memory.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” she murmured, her voice barely above the noise.

She didn’t notice Sasuke’s gaze shift, not toward the fireworks, nor the moon. But toward her. 

“Yes,” he answered softly. “It’s beautiful.”

Chapter Text

Ding! A new notification prompted Dr. Haruno to check her phone for the nth time. It was from Sasuke—again. A picture of a unit was attached to his message, asking if he should consider buying the property. ‘I don’t understand why he’s asking me when he’s the one who would be moving.’ She sighed as she typed her reply: I think this one has the best layout. You should go with this one.

All of the pictures he’d sent earlier were of condo units in the Central District, a ten-minute drive from where she lived. At first, Sasuke had wanted to invest in a property in her neighborhood, but she dissuaded him, saying it was far too modest compared to the kind of amenities he was used to—which was true, given that he grew up in a freaking mansion of all places.

Fortunately, she had convinced him to look into properties in the Central District instead. She had even connected him to Yamato-san, the real estate agent who helped her find the perfect apartment for herself.

Before Sakura finished her rounds, Sasuke’s reply came: You have a good eye. The last one I sent you has three bedrooms. I can fix one of those into a guest room so you can sleep over. There was a winky animated sticker too. 

Heat crept up on the doctor’s face; she nearly stumbled upon reading her ex’s message. ‘When did he learn to use stickers?’ Sasuke had never been the type to use emojis or silly stickers like that. Heck, he barely had a social media presence even when they were together. He was comparable to a hermit when it came to social networking apps—he wasn’t keen on posting anything, not even their pictures.

Sakura’s phone vibrated in her pocket once more, but she chose to ignore it. Sasuke could wait; besides, she was sure it was another picture of the place he had just bought. Although, at the back of her mind, a tiny voice whispered: ’Look how much he’s been trying’—which she ignored. She knew from the beginning that her ex had stayed true to his promise, that he would be there for Sarada. Their situation might be confusing (it actually was, according to Sasuke’s father)  but it worked. They were a team this way, with their daughter at the center of every decision they made.

Which was why Sasuke was quick to look for a new place, so he could look after Sarada without relying too much on his mom or Ino. Especially now, when they had too much on their plates. Mikoto was taking care of grandfather and a four-month-old baby, which was already a lot to handle, while Ino was busy with Konoha Fashion Week.

As soon Sakura finished her rounds, she prepared for her outpatient consultations. For the first time in a while, she could start early. She didn’t have any surgeries scheduled today, and the Hokage rarely called meetings about the opening of the children’s therapy center anymore. She didn’t have to be involved since it’s the city’s project, but Mr. Namikaze had insisted that she should have a voice in the matter since she was the center’s proponent and it was only right for her to be involved.

She slumped onto her swivel chair and reached for her makeup bag. There was still enough time to fix her hair—to make herself look a little less like an overworked doctor. As she brushed her hair, Sakura opened her laptop to check her emails. But before she could even click the inbox, a notification from the hospital’s bulletin board appeared on her screen.

Her breath caught. It was the kind of headline she wished—more than anything—wasn’t true.

 

ATTN: ALL KONOHA UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER EMPLOYEES

The board would like to notify everyone regarding the changes in the hospital’s administration. Starting today, July 31, 20xx, Mr. Kido Tsumiki, shall act as the Director until further notice. He will be assisted by Mr. Yamashiro Aoba.

 

Without thinking, Sakura fished her phone out of her pocket and called Dr. Senju. Her mind was racing, questions filled her thoughts. What’s going on? Is this what Auntie Tsuna wasn’t telling me about? She had never imagined the situation to be this dire—and her godmother hadn’t said a single word when she asked what was happening.

Her call wasn’t coming through so she called Shizune next. But there was no answer. “Damn it.” Sakura muttered under her breath, tapping her fingers on the table as she called Shizune again. Still, she wasn’t picking up the call. Sakura’s smart watch buzzed, reminding her that she was needed in the consultation room. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm despite the situation. 

The hospital’s while halls suddenly seemed dimmer, even though the lights were working perfectly fine. It was as if a gray cloud had settled over the place, draining the warmth from its walls. The once bright corridors now felt dull, devoid of life. As Sakura walked toward the bridge connecting Mito Uzumaki Hall to Indra Hall, where the consultation rooms were located, she couldn’t help but feel the gaze of every pair of eyes following her. While some whispers reached her ears, offering sympathy for Dr. Senju’s unfortunate situation, others were unkind, questioning her standing in the hospital since her “sponsor” had been dismissed from her position.

Dr. Haruno clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white. Despite all her hard work and achievements, there were still people who believed she had been accepted into the hospital solely because of her godmother. They only saw their connection, overlooking the fact that she had graduated from med school with the highest GPA and had even topped the licensure exam. While Tsunade had undoubtedly inspired her to pursue medicine, she had worked her way to the top through scholarships and the money she had inherited from her parents.

The lights were out in Tsunade’s house. 

Sakura didn’t bother parking her car properly. How could she when her thoughts were all over the place, wondering why would her godmother—the woman who had practically raised her—thought that it was a good idea to keep things from her. She had the rough details about what happened thanks to Mei Terumi, head nurse of the cardiology department, and also the number one source of gossip in the hospital. She knew everything that’s happening and her sources were always credible—she’s basically everyone’s go-to person whenever an issue explodes from one department to another.

Lady Luck was on Dr. Haruno’s side since it was easy to make the head nurse talk. All she had to do was treat Mei for cup of coffee and let her talk. The head nurse had no filter, she went on with the dating lives of the doctors even the people from the administrative section. Sakura simply nodded and keep her enthusiasm, as she listened to the stories of her co-workers’ dating horror stories and whatnot.

Then she asked, “Have you heard about the new director?” She sipped her coffee, casually glancing around the coffee shop. She could be surrounded with anyone whose loyalty lies with Kido Tsumiki and the rest of Danzo’s cohorts.

“Girl, I think you should be asking what happened to Dr. Senju.” Mei replied, her face was smug as if she already had an inkling in the first place why Sakura had invited her for a cup of coffee. “Oh don’t give me that look, Dr. Haruno,” the head nurse continued upon noticing the way her viridian eyes hardened. There was no use keeping up with the pretense that she wanted to be chums with the hospital’s self-proclaimed Gossip Girl. “I know you’re dying to know what happened to your godmother.”

“Go ahead then, spill the details.” Sakura crossed her arms. Her voice was laced with sharpness, dropping the mask she normally wore around the hospital.

“Well…rumor has it that Dr. Senju was being investigated because someone had tipped them off about seeing her in a casino,” Sakura raised her brow, unconvinced that her godmother would engage in an activity prohibited under the Code of Conduct and Ethical Standards of Public Officials and Employees. “It’s not just that, she was being accused of siphoning funds from budget allocated for the construction of the heart center. Someone from the engineering office had reported that substandard materials were used to construct the facility.”

“Those were…serious allegations.” Sakura murmured, almost to herself. She had no idea that Auntie Tsuna has been carrying that much load over the past few weeks. But at the same time, she was livid that her godmother would keep something as big as that from her. It was baffling, considering that it was Tsunade who had instilled the idea of asking for help when her load gets too heavy.

Tsunade had been a source of support for Sakura, especially when she had lost both of her parents. In fact, it was her godmother who had told her, “You can lean on the people you cherish, Sakura. For instance, I’m your mother’s best friend and I promised her that I would do everything I could to take care of you.” But at this moment, Sakura felt that her advice had been for naught because she hadn’t been able to apply it to herself.

The house help led her upstairs, to her godmother’s office. She said that Dr. Senju had been holed up there since she came home a few hours ago with Shizune. Apparently, they were drowning themselves in alcohol. 

Sakura pushed the door open.

Tsunade and Shizune were slumped on the couch, their faces flushed. There were several empty bottles of soju on the coffee table along with discarded bags of chips. The TV flickered with some trashy drama neither of them seemed to be watching. Her godmother, on the other hand, was already pouring herself another drink.

Sakura stormed toward them and grabbed the glass from Tsunade’s hand.

“H-hic-hey! That’s mine.” Tsunade slurred, waving her arms in protest.

”That’s enough, Auntie.” Sakura’s voice wavered despite herself.

“You should’ve told me.”

Tsunade squinted her honey-brown eyes up at her, brows furrowed. “Told you what?”

”About this—the investigation, the accusation, all of it! You could’ve gotten yourself a damn good lawyer. You could’ve even have one from the Uchihas’ law firm, for God’s sake!” 

That struck a nerve.

Tsunade’s expression hardened. Her eyes, even bleary, carried the same fire that once intimidated entire panels of doctors.

”Would you?” she countered, her tone suddenly clear and cutting.

The question landed like a blow.

Sakura opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Shizune, who had been silently observing from the corner, sat up and tried to diffuse the tension. “Let’s all calm down—both of you,” she said gently. “We’ll figure this out in the morning.”

But neither of them moved.

Tsunade leaned back, exhaling a shaky laugh. “You want truth, Sakura? Fine. I’ll tell you everything.”

Sakura’s heart hammered in her chest.

”It was Dan,” Tsunade confessed finally, her voice dropping to a tired whisper. “He’s the one who tipped off the board and HR about my so-called gambling addiction. Said he had proof, which the board played on the initial proceedings. But it’s not true. I haven’t touched a slot machine nor stepped inside a casino since I started working in the hospital.”

Sakura froze. “Dan? As in your Dan?”

Tsunade nodded slowly, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “If I fight this with a legal team—especially if I bring a team of lawyers from the Uchihas—he’ll be implicated for making false accusations. He’s the only one looking after his daughter no. I can’t” Her voice broke. “I can’t destroy what’s left of that child’s life. I’m not that heartless, Sakura.”

Sakura’s chest tightened, anger rising past the lump in her throat. “So you’re telling me that you’re willing to sacrifice your career? Everything you’ve built?”

Her godmother didn’t respond. She stared at the table, her silence heavy, final—as if it was saying more than any words could.

And for the first time, Sakura saw the woman she idolized—not as the unshakable Dr. Tsunade Senju—but someone utterly, heartbreakingly human.

Tsunade’s next hearing was scheduled two weeks from now, and Sakura was running out of options. Desperation pushed her to do something reckless—she bribed Lee, the hospital’s security camera operator, just so she could sneak into the archives undetected.

Armed with nerves that refused to settle, she slipped into the restricted section where the project monitoring committee’s files were kept. Somewhere among these boxes was the report she needed—the one that detailed the construction of the heart center, complete with financial records and the committee’s findings.

If substandard materials had really been used, there would’ve been a note in the minutes and the board would’ve been notified. And her godmother wouldn’t be here, caught in a web of false accusations.

Sakura moved quickly, brushing off layers of dust from cardboard boxes labeled with fiscal years and project codes she didn’t understand. All she knew was the code given by Shizune, KU-HC09xx—the last two digits indicate the year of the completion of the project.

The flashlight beam trembled faintly in her grip as she scanned each file tag, her mind counting down the time Lee had given her—thirty minutes and not more than that.

She’d paid for that time with bribe of coffee and homemade cookies. The least she could do now was make every second count.

Sakura finally found the box she’d been looking for—the one labeled with the fiscal year of the heart center’s construction. Her pulse quickened as she flipped through the folders, scanning financial statements and meeting notes under the narrow glow of her phone’s flashlight.

Then she froze.

The door creaked open. Footsteps echoed down the corridor. A second later, a beam of light swept across one of the aisles.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Without thinking, Sakura shoved the folders back into the box as neatly as she could manage. Her mind raced. ’How am I supposed to slip out of here without getting caught?’ There was no time to sort the papers properly, no time to think.

She switched off her flashlight and slipped her phone into her pocket. The darkness swallowed her whole, her only company was the sound of her own heartbeat, and the slow deliberate steps drawing closer.

’Please…just let me get out in one piece,’ she prayed silently, inching toward the door.

Every time the flash light beam crossed a nearby aisle, she pressed herself between the shelves, holding her breath until it passed. Her only chance was to move when the light shifted away.

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.

The footsteps grew louder. Closer.

Panic spurred her into motion. She darted toward another aisle, but her foot caught the edge of a hard object, probably the archive’s dehumidifier. She stumbled, and the one box she was holding tumbled to the ground with a dull thud. Papers slid across the floor like fallen leaves.

”Shit…” she hissed under her breath.

”Who’s there?” A deep, baritone voice cut through the dark. The flashlight turned sharply in her direction.

Sakura’s heart dropped. She scrambled to gather the scattered filed, her fingers trembling as she tried to shove them back into the box.

”Sakura-san?”

Her head snapped up. The light stopped on her face.

It was Neji Hyuuga—the hospital’s head of security.

As much as possible, Sakura didn’t want to drag Sasuke into her godmother’s case. Tsunade’s words still echoed in her mind—Would you?—a sharp retort to her earlier outburst about hiring a legal representative from the Uchiha family’s law firm.

It remained in her mind, forcing her to confront the uncomfortable truth. If she were in Tsunade’s place, facing accusations and public scrutiny, would she really ask Sasuke for help? 

Sakura didn’t want to answer that.

The very thought unsettled her.

She couldn’t imagine leaning on her ex more than necessary—not when their only focus should be co-parenting their daughter. And yet, lately, she’d been seeing him more often, drawn back into his orbit. So much so that he now asked for her opinion on things as mundane as which condo unit he should buy.

”I didn’t know you had it in you, Sakura,” Sasuke remarked, breaking the silence between them.

Sakura didn’t look at him, though she caught a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye—a faint smirk playing at his lips, teasing and infuriating all at once.

“Seriously, what were you thinking?” His tone was firm now, the playful smirk was gone, replaced by the same grave expression he wore in the courtroom.

The pinkette gulped, unable to answer him or find the perfect retort to his imposing question. Why did he care? What was in it for him? Just because they had agreed to work as a team for Sarada didn’t mean he could barge in and act like her knight in shining armor. Well, he had saved her from a catastrophic outcome. If it hadn’t been for Neji who had seen her in the archives, she would have faced a suspension or a record in her 201 File. Worse, Kido could have her sacked for attempting to steal documents from the archives.

“Why are you helping me?”

Sasuke frowned, as if he was giving her a look that said, ’Are you seriously asking me that?’

”Danzo’s henchmen was involved in Dr. Senju’s case. It was obvious that there was politics at play here.” 

Sakura’s gaze met Sasuke’s. She had finally pieced together the puzzle, realizing that the execution of Danzo’s camp, which ousted her godmother from the hospital and appointed one of his men as director, was all part of a larger plan. 

“They can’t do anything now to sway public opinion about the children’s therapy center. That’s why they’re resorting into a method that would allow anyone from Shimura’s faction to take credit in the construction of the center.”

”That’s exactly what they’re aiming for.” Sasuke parked his car right in the spot reserved for him, which was one of the perks in his new place. 

“Who’s watching Sarada?”

”Shisui.” 

Sakura’s mouth formed into an “o” and quietly followed him to the elevator as she tried to convince herself that Shisui wasn’t that bad. Sure, he could be pretty unhinged, unfiltered, like he was injected with truth serum and couldn’t stop himself from saying things that could get other people into…uncomfortable situations. But he's still Sarada's uncle and Sasuke trusts him enough to let him watch their daughter.

Sasuke’s new place was much nicer than the photos he’d sent her. It has three bedrooms, and the open-plan layout made the space airy and bright. Unlike his old unit, this one wasn’t draped in his usual dark palette of blues and blacks. He’d kept most of his old furniture, but the curtains were now in soft whites and beige, blending seamlessly with the ivory-painted walls.

“I’m surprised you finally discovered there are other colors besides blue and black,” she teased.

”Mom and Izumi were the ones who took charge in decorating my place,” he snorted.

“I see.”

She tried not to notice it, but there was something in the way Sasuke said Izumi’s name—it was so casual, almost indifferent. He spoke her name as if she’d been nothing to him. Nothing but a sister. As though she had never once held up his entire universe.

“I didn’t have much say on how they did my place. I just gave them my card and let them do everything.” 

“You’ve made the right choice,” Sakura chuckled softly, picturing Sasuke’s usually stoic face twist into quiet resignation, knowing he couldn’t win against his mother and sister-in-law. “Your place looks homey now.” 

“We don’t have much time, these papers needed to be sorted,” Sasuke pointed at the pile of shredded papers inside the box. “And someone needs to find Dan Kato’s address.” 

Shisui grimaced at the sight of the thin strips of papers, “That’s going to take a lot of work and there’s just the three of us here.”

“No, Suigetsu and Karin are coming over to help.” 

“What are these anyway?” Sakura grabbed the box with a tape in hand and set it aside on the dining table. She couldn’t help about the legalities of the case, that’s why she picked something that she’s sure she could help with even if it was the most tedious thing on their to-do list.

”Those are the original files that you were trying to steal in the archives.”

”You mean… I went there for nothing?”

”Kind of.” Sasuke deadpanned. 

Sakura tried to fight the urge to throw her slippers right at his face. “You could’ve told me about this—“ Her viridian eyes glanced at the documents sprawled all over the coffee table. “Instead of letting me sneak in the archives and risk my job.” She fumed.

”Sakura, I’d never thought that you would do something reckless.” 

She glared at him while Sasuke maintained his calm composure behind his reading glasses. Their eyes met as silence settled between them. Sakura had seen her ex wear those spectacles countless times before, but this was the first time she truly noticed how well they suited him—how mature and disarmingly attractive he looked in his Atty. Sasuke Uchiha persona, the ruthless lawyer who could make even hardened criminals cower in fear.

A familiar heat rose to her cheeks, but no. She wasn’t going to back down. If she looked away first, she’d be conceding defeat in this silent standoff.

”Umm… guys? I’d hate to break the sexual tension between you two, but we have a case to work on.” 

Sakura cleared her throat and quickly looked away. “I’d better get started with those papers.” 

They pulled an all-nighter that night, except for Shisui, who insisted he needed a few hours of sleep since he’d be driving Sarada to daycare. He slept in her room, claiming he wanted to be there in case she woke from a bad dream of something. Still, Sakura couldn’t shake off the feeling that he had only done it to leave her and Sasuke alone, knowing how mischievous he could be.

For the rest of the night, Sakura forced herself to focus on her task: piecing together torn documents to strengthen her godmother’s defense for the upcoming hearing with the Fact Finding Committee. She didn’t look at Sasuke, or at least she tried not to, though his mere presence was distracting enough.

Because truthfully, all she wanted was to steal glances at him, to trace the sharp lines of his face with her eyes, to memorize every detail of how attractive he looked in his glasses. If she could have taken a picture of him then, deeply absorbed in reading and sorting through files, she would have, just to keep another piece of him in the box that already held her most cherished memories.

”Staring is rude, you know,” Sasuke said without looking up from the papers in front of him.

Sakura nearly ruined the pieces that she’s about tape together. “I wasn’t staring,” she lied, a little too quickly.

He finally glanced at her over the rim of his glasses, one brow slightly raised. “Yes, you were.”

Her mouth opened but no words came out. She turned back to taping back the piece of document before her, pretending to read even though the words hardly made sense with the tiny gaps in the middle.

”You’re only imagining things.”

“Hn. If you say so.”

And just like that, he returned to his work, leaving her flustered, cheeks warm, and unable to focus on her task after that. 

For the next hour or so, Sakura did her best to stay awake and finish piecing back the second pile of papers before her. But her eyelids are getting heavier by each second until she couldn’t hold it anymore. Her head drooped forward, then jerked up, then drooped again. The cycle repeated until exhaustion finally won. Sakura slumped over the table, her cheeks pressed against the edge of a folder, her soft breathing breaking the silence of the room.

Sasuke looked up from his work when he realized she hadn’t spoken for a while. That’s when he found her fast asleep amid the piles of torn papers she was taping back together. 

A faint smile tugged at his lips despite himself, as he recalled all those times she’d try to stay awake while studying a case or finishing a medical report.

He stood and carefully cleared the table from all the scattered pieces of paper. For a moment, his gaze lingered on her face. She looked serene, the usual crease between her brows were gone. She looked nothing like the annoyingly stubborn woman who’d argued with him hours ago.

Sasuke pulled a spare blanket from the couch and draped it over her shoulders before returning to his seat. 

Sakura woke up to the smell of bacon hitting her nostrils. She found her darling girl seated on her booster seat with her papa feeding her bits of soft rice and green peas.

”Goob mowning mama!” Sarada greeted, her mouth still full.

Sakura blinked, disoriented for a second before realizing where she was. Her back ached from having slept on the dining chair, her cheek still faintly imprinted with the crease of her folded arm. The documents that she had been trying to piece back together were neatly arranged in the file box and not a single pile of shredded papers were left. 

She stifled a yawn and managed a sleepy smile. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

”Careful,” Sasuke said without glancing at her, his tone was calm and low as he helped Sarada with another spoonful. “She’s been insisting she can eat bacon by herself.”

Sarada nodded eagerly, waving her baby fork like a trophy. “Papa say I’m big girl now!”

Sakura chuckled under her breath, her heart softening at the sight. Her little girl was too adorable. “Big girl, huh? Did Papa make breakfast?”

”No, Sakura-chan. Sasuke didn’t make breakfast, but I did!”

Right on cue, Shisui emerged from the kitchen holding a plate piled high with eggs and bacon, grinning like he’d just save the world.

“I figured,” Sakura murmured, casting her ex a teasing look. Sasuke could make the best brewed coffee, but he was absolutely hopeless in the kitchen.

Shisui was surprisingly great with kids, and Sarada adored her Uncle ShiShi more than anyone. She even claimed she liked him better than Uncle Tachi—who was always serious—because Uncle ShiShi was more fun and he read her favorite princess story again and again until she fell asleep.

After breakfast, Shisui went on his way to drop Sarada to daycare. He said he’d be back later after taking some files from the office and some clothes. With the little time they have in their hands, they all agreed to stick into Sasuke’s place as their HQ while working on Dr. Senju’s case.

It’s not just them who wanted to reinstate the rightful hospital director. Everyone, from the administrative section down to the security, are involved in the crusade to oust Kido Tsumiki. Anko, the head of HR, emailed Sakura and told her to file a PTO and she will approve it in the system. This would allow her to focus on the case without worrying about hospital shifts.

The kitchen, however, was a disaster. Shisui might have known his way around the kitchen, but he was an unorganized cook; bowls, pans, and utensils were scattered across the counter like the aftermath of a breakfast battlefield. An empty carton of eggs sat on the other side with what remains of the thin plastic wrap packaging of bacon. 

Sakura sighed at the sight before her, but there’s nothing she could do but to clean up all these mess. She was about the take the rubber gloves on the sink but Sasuke had beaten her to it. 

“Hey, I was going to wash the dishes.”

Sasuke glanced at her, clearly not in the mood to argue, and said, “Okay, I wash and you dry.” 

He turned on the tap, rolling up his sleeves as the sound of running water filled the silence between them. Sakura grabbed a towel and stood beside him, close enough that their elbows brushed every now and then. Each touch was fleeting but enough to make her heartbeat thump. thump. thump. Her pulse quickened, every nerve in her body acutely aware of how close he was, close enough that she could almost feel the warmth radiating off his skin.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, Sakura wanted to feel Sasuke’s touch. Once more, with feeling. Her deepest, irrational thoughts told her that it didn’t matter if she burned, as long as she could feel him again. Feel the sensation of waking up next to him, sunlight spilling across the sheets that barely covered their bodies.

She remembered it all. 

The way his face looked in the quiet of morning, the softness in his breathing before the world intruded. Each dawn, she would reach out, tracing the curve of his eyes and brushing aside the stray strand of hair that fell across his cheek. She did it to remind herself that the nights she burned for him were real. That he was real.

But like all beautiful things, it ended. And when it did, it felt as though the sun had gone out.

Sakura tried to focus on the task, but with him this close, even the clink of the dishes sounded too loud.

When their fingers accidentally met while reaching for a plate, Sakura froze. The moment stretched longer than it should have, making tension thick in the air. Then Sasuke shifted, leaning forward, his body caging her against the counter.

Her breath hitched. 

Their eyes met.

For a second, she thought—no, hoped—he was going to kiss her.

But Sasuke merely reached past her, opening the cupboard to grab a bottle of dishwashing liquid.

She blinked, her cheeks warm.

While he straightened, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re in the way,” he muttered, setting the bottle down on the counter, close to the sink.

Silence settled between them, neither of them moving from their places. Their gazes locked with each other, as if the unspoken words—things that they weren’t brave enough to say hung just between them, waiting to fall.

The door suddenly clicked open, followed by Shisui’s cheerful voice echoing from the doorway.

”Hey, guys! Look who I ran into!”

Sakura jolted and immediately pushed Sasuke away, her face heating as she fumbled for the towel. She went back to drying the dishes, pretending to be engrossed in the task.

Her ex mirrored her reaction, casually going back to washing the dishes like nothing had happened, like that charged moment between them had been nothing more than a trick of the air.

”Wow, you two make a perfect picture of domestic bliss.” It was Suigetsu Hozuki, Sasuke’s pre-law classmate from Oto University, remarked. A playful smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes darted between the two of them, clearly amused by the scene he’d just walked into.

”Oy! Suigetsu I told you not to—“

”Karin-san! It’s been a long time,” Sakura wiped her hands and ran toward the bespectacled redhead. She threw her arms around her, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug that nearly knocked the air out of her.

”It’s good to see you too, Sakura,” Karin replied, smiling warmly as she adjusted her glasses.

Suigetsu, on the other hand, slung an arm around Sasuke’s shoulders, his grin mischievous. “I heard you’re quite the family man now, huh? I still remember that day when we visited Konoha Uni and you were staring at Sa—“

”I think we should get down to business,” Sasuke cut him off sharply, his tone flat but his glare was enough to silence Suigetsu mid-sentence.

”I’d like to hear what Suigetsu wanted to say, Sasu-chan,” Shisui added, curiosity flashing through his eyes. Sasuke darted him a look, mouthing “Shut up, Shisui baka.”  

Sakura blinked, glancing between the three men. Who was Suigetsu referring to? she wondered. Was there someone back then—someone pretty enough to capture Sasuke’s eyes like that? Someone who’s not Izumi?

She quickly pushed the thought aside before it could dig deeper. Turning to Karin, she said with a small smile, “I’m just going to take a quick shower first, then we can catch up.”

Thanks to Suigetsu and Karin, they were able to deduce that the video submitted to the Fact Finding Committee had been edited.

”It was a deepfake,” Suigetsu explained, playing the original footage he’d obtained from the casino itself. “Some editing tool—or possibly artificial intelligence—was used to plaster another person’s face onto someone else’s body.”

“Several nations have been passing legislations enhancing their cybersecurity measures. Does the Land of Fire have something like that?” Karin asked, glancing between Sasuke and Shisui, the two most knowledgeable when it came to the laws of Fire Country.

Shisui ran his hands through his hair and replied, “The daimyo’s council haven’t thought that far ahead, but we can still present the original footage as evidence.”

“We can have the footage authenticated by an expert and compare it with the one submitted to the committee.” Sasuke suggested.

With legal jargons being thrown around, Sakura couldn’t follow their discussion. She could make sense of some terms, thanks to being formerly engaged to a lawyer, but the rest sounded too foreign it made her head spin.

Legal matters weren’t her area of expertise anyway, which was why she decided to make snacks for everyone instead—pizza toast with whatever ingredients she could find in Sasuke’s fridge. She made sure to add extra tomatoes, knowing how much he loved them.

She was nearly done plating the toast and pouring the orange juice when Suigetsu waltzed into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

”Hey, doc,” he greeted, filling his glass before downing it one go.

”Hi Suigetsu, thanks for helping us with the case. It means a lot to me.” Sakura said, offering a small smile.

“No problem doc, you know that Karin and I owe Sasuke a lot.” He ginned sheepishly, setting his glass down on the granite counter “By the way, you look like a vision of a supportive wife right now. It suits you.”

”E-eh?! What are you saying? You got it all wrong! We’re not—“

”I know,” Suigetsu said, smiling at her almost apologetically.  “I just wish you’d seen the way Sasuke looked at you that day. He thinks no one notices it, but he looks at you like you’re—“

”Suigetsu! What’s taking you so long? We need you here!” Karin’s voice called from the living area.

“I’ll tell you about it next time, doc.” He flashed her a knowing smirk before heading back.

Sakura couldn’t help but wonder what Suigetsu meant about the way Sasuke looked at her. She didn’t want to dwell too much on the thought, not when she had more pressing matters to attend to in the hospital. She had just gotten back to work after taking an almost two-week PTO, per the HR’s recommendation.

Fortunately, there was a reliever for her clinic consultations and she hadn’t been called for an emergency surgery. Although, everyone kept asking her how was Suna when she had barely stepped out of Sasuke’s condo while they were working on her godmother’s defense for the Fact Finding Committee hearing later.

It was astounding how many people had come together to help her godmother despite the smear campaign against her. Given the number of those involved in smuggling files in and out of the hospital, it seemed as though the entire medical and administrative staff had united to reinstate the rightful director and remove Danzo’s cohorts before they could implement changes so drastic they’d be impossible to undo.

Dr. Haruno checked the time, it’s thirty minutes before the hearing starts. Kido Tsumiki was confident that the committee hearing would end in his and Danzo’s favor that he announced that it will be live streamed for “transparency” when in reality, he wanted the entire hospital to witness the downfall of the woman behind Konoha’s progressive medical reforms.

Her godmother, being the tenacious woman that she was, did not object to the board’s decision to publicize the proceedings. The woman who had been prepared to throw away her career weeks before was gone, overtaken by the iron lady that could make the members of the board, even the daimyo’s council cower in fear with her notorious temper.

Everything was set for the live stream. The entire committee, along with a few board members, were already seated in the conference hall, though the feed had yet to include audio.

Sakura sat before her laptop, her body tensed as she waited with bated breath, praying that the committee would find Auntie Tsunade innocent—because she is. She hadn’t done anything wrong and the allegations against her were just part of Danzo’s evil machinations to usurp power.

The screen showed a wide-angle shot of the long mahogany table where the committee members in their formal suits, and her godmother seated at the end. She was dressed to the nines and her face no longer bore the haggard lines caused by the constant stress brought by her suspension.

Sakura’s pulse quickened. This was it. The moment they’d all worked for.

When the audio finally came through, the committee chair, Mr. Fū Yamanaka, began presenting the case.

”Dr. Senju, you are being called to account for your alleged gambling addiction, evidenced by this footage taken at the Silver Fang Casino. Furthermore, there are allegations of your involvement in the procurement of substandard materials used in constructing KUMC Heart Center, allegedly to find your gambling debts. Such acts, if proven, constitute a violation to the Code of Conduct and Ethical Standards for Public Officials and Employees.”

Sakura’s stomach twisted.

Hearing those horrid accusations spoken aloud still made her uneasy.

When Mr. Yamanaka asked for Tsunade’s comment, the conference doors suddenly swung open. The camera turned just in time to watch two men, tall in their sleek black suits, entering the room. Their presence exuded authority, as if they had just entered a court room for a high profile case.

The scene had unfolded just like the dramas Sakura watches in her free time. She wasn’t sure if she should find the dramatic flare in Sasuke and Shisui's entrance amusing…given the seriousness and formality of the situation.

”What are you two doing here?” Tsumiki’s expression soured.

Sasuke met his glare with an unflinching stare. “We are here as Dr. Tsunade Senju’s legal representatives.”

”You have no right to be here,” the OIC Director snapped.

Shisui stepped forward, his tone calm but firm. “Mr. Tsumiki, Under Article III, Section 2, Paragraph D of the Administrative Procedure Act, our client has the right to hire an attorney to represent her.”

Kido’s eyes darted toward the committee members, searching for support, but no one met his gaze. Silence stretched for a beat before Mr. Yamanaka cleared his throat. “Let’s proceed.”

The hearing continued with the presentation of evidence—the casino footage, financial records, and supposed statement from an anonymous witness. Sakura clenched her fists as each falsified document flashed on screen.

Then, Sasuke spoke, his low baritone voice carrying through the hall. “Did the committee conduct the standard procedure in authenticating these evidences?”

Mr. Yamanaka narrowed his eyes. “Atty. Uchiha, are you questioning the validity of the evidences presented to the Fact Finding Committee?”

Sakura leaned closer to the screen as Sasuke and Shisui began distributing folders to each member of the board. Her heart was racing even if she knew the contents of each folder, confident that they could overturn the case in their favor.

Shisui was the first to speak. “This is the original CCTV footage we obtained directly from the casino. As you can see, the video submitted to this committee was altered using deepfake technology—an AI-generated manipulation that overlays another person’s likeness into someone else.”

Gasps rippled through the room.

Sasuke followed, laying out another set of documents. “And here are the procurement reports and disbursement vouchers with Dr. Senju’s signature. We had them verified by an independent forensic document examiner. The results show that the signatures presented to this committee were forged.”

Kido Tsumiki’s face darkened. “And what proof do you have that your so-called expert is credible?”

”If you wish, we can request the Prosecutor’s Office to verify the documents. But I’d remind you, Mr. Tsumiki,” Sasuke’s eyes narrowed, “that falsification of public documents isn’t punishable by a fine—it carries imprisonment of three to five years.”

A tense silence fell over the room. Even through the screen, Sakura could sense the pressure in the air. Kido’s jaw clenched, his knuckles white as he glanced at the two Uchiha attorneys.

”You’re making a mistake involving yourselves in this,” he threatened as he bolted toward the door, slamming it shut. His cohorts followed suit, leaving the committee to make their decision independently.

For a long, drawn-out moment, no one spoke.

Mr. Yamanaka cleeared his throat once more and announced, “Given the inconsistencies in the evidences presented and the newly authenticated documents, this committee finds no sufficient basis to proceed with the charges. The case against Dr. Tsunade Senju is hereby dismissed for lack of merit.

Sakura exhaled, tears blurring her vision as the live feed ended. Her godmother would be reinstated as the hospital’s director and everything would be back to normal…

And it’s all thanks to Sasuke.

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Epilogue:

Spring in Konoha was in full bloom.

It was Sasuke’s senior year in college, yet this was the first time he had taken the train home in four years. He never once visited—not when he was intoxicated by the freedom of living his own in Otogakure. Away from his father’s relentless disapproval. Away from the endless comparisons to his flawless older brother.

And besides, cherry blossoms did not bloom in Oto. The land was unsuitable to trees whose flowers only appeared for a fleeting season. Moreover, spring had never been his favorite season—not when it always brought back the memory of a melodic voice, a pair of jeweled green eyes, and the infernal pink hair that was hard to miss.

Spring meant Sakura, her annoying voice calling out his name, “Sasuke-kun!” while she smiled so brightly it hurt his eyes. It was bright as the spring sunshine that it melted the cold, the desolate, never ending winter that had trapped him. The way she said, “I’ll see you in Konoha University” had almost made him question his resolve, almost made him take a step back. But in the end, he still went to Oto and pursued a path in a distant university. 

Away from her.

Away from Sakura Haruno.

If not for the invitation from the Konoha University’s College of Law, Sasuke wouldn’t dare step there and risk seeing her. Sure, the campus was big enough to avoid a chance meeting—but with the sakura flowers in full bloom, the entire place reeked of her.

She was basically everywhere that she was hard to avoid.

And because of that, Sasuke felt as if he was basking under her spring sunshine once again that his heart—the one he tried to shut off—was beating like thump. thump. thump. Making him feel things that shouldn’t have existed. 

He liked Izumi, he was sure that he understood what liking someone meant.

But then… 

“Sasuke, you don’t know how to distinguish “liking someone” from “loving someone.” Izumi had schooled him that falling in love meant “feeling the butterflies in you stomach” but more than that, it was “feeling that the world was whole again, that pieces fit perfectly when you see that someone in your life smile”.

And that’s when he found himself staring at her. 

Sakura stood before a group of students—probably incoming first years—explaining what there was to see in the most prestigious university in Konoha. Suddenly, Sasuke’s chest tightened. His gaze stayed fixed on her, the way she moved, the way the spring breeze lifted her hair—as if the cherry blossom petals were swirling around her.

“Hey, Sasuke. Are you going to stare at that pretty girl over there, or are we meeting Atty. Nara?” Suigetsu’s voice yanked him back to reality.

“Let’s go.” He replied, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white, dragging his steps toward the College of Law, resisting the urge to steal one last look at Sakura.