A/N at the end.

Chapter 18

"I'm home."

Sakura stared, her sheer disbelief incapacitating her for action. Strength seeped away from every inch of her body, and her almost limp limbs were barely supported by the conscious will not to faint on the spot. The only active force that alerted her that she was still in the present and sensing, that it wasn't some surreal dream, was her heartbeats thundering in her ears.

Nothing about her state of distress right now ought to be a natural response to the homecoming of her husband.

The guilt that had been sitting dormant in her heart for too long was immediately cutting into her conscience, the pain stinging her enough to become aware of this anomaly in her behaviors. Before any suspicion could be raised, her brain kicked into gears to try to absorb the initial shock and direct her to receive her husband with the right gestures. The connection to her body hasn't linked up, it seemed, as her mind then screamed for her to at least say something positive. Anything!

But her mouth had gone dry, unable to produce anything coherent. "S-sa—sa—"

She was still frozen at where she stood, numbly accepting Sasuke's move to get closer.

For a second, his tall form disappeared from her eye level. It took another few seconds before the nerves of her clammy hand could feel the the combination of calloused fingers and cool metal coming into contact with her palm. Her eyes traveled down to see a gloved hand tentatively probing and goading hers to take hold of the spoons that had fallen to the ground a minute ago. Weakly taking the objects, she looked up to meet the small frown that draped over his expression.

"Are you alright?"

What sounded like concern in his voice was the beginning of her fierce hope that maybe he hasn't found out about the crimes she'd committed against him in his absence.

"S-sorry. I-I'm just surprised you are back." Sakura managed out a feeble whisper. Judging by the worryingly fast speed at which her heart pounded, however, "surprised" was a profound understatement.

"Papa, how long will you stay?" Sarada had bounced from the front entrance to Sasuke's side, eager to get an answer to her most interested question.

"Until the Chuunin Exams are over."

Delight illuminated the young Uchiha's face at the reply, and she began to pull her father by the arm to lead him deeper into the apartment. Her upbeat mood was on the other end of the spectrum, the extreme opposite where Sakura's emotions were currently situated.

Watching the backs of the two drifting away from her, Sakura's clutch on the utensils in her hand tightened. Her teeth gritted. She had no choice but to push her legs into a motion forward, the soles of her feet flat and heavy against the wooden floorboards as she plodded after her husband and daughter.

With Sarada guiding Sasuke to the washroom to refresh, Sakura was left to put together supper on the dining table. She paced between the kitchen and the dining room in a robotic and soulless rhythm, transporting the necessary items. But her mind has long disengaged itself from the task, and she could only rely on her muscle memory from years of routine to pilot her movements. She rested the last pair of chopsticks on the tiny porcelain holder. Dinner for three was ready. Yet... Sakura cast her eyes down into a dull gaze at the third set of plate and bowl. There was never anything unnatural about it all those other evenings. Yet this time it felt... strange, extra...

...Like the company.

Footsteps shuffled into the room, making Sakura turn her attention to the lone raven-haired girl who emerged from the hallway to the bedrooms.

"Sarada."

At her beckoning, her daughter ambled over to her by the dinner table.

There was a feeling of nausea that made her stomach twist, as Sakura thought about the things she was about to say, knowing that they would surely bring herself shame; but her instinct for self-preservation drove the words out of her lips anyway. In a hushed tone, she told her, "Let's not mention Uncle Gaara in front of your dad, alright?"

The initial quizzical look from Sarada disappeared. Her forehead puckered, following it was an unsympathetic "Why?"

"Your dad might not like that you are training with him," Sakura explained grimly, her reason as flimsy as her lie.

"Why?"

"Because," The youth's lack of willingness to cooperate was placing a strain on her already rocky mental state. No longer caring that she was turning into a serial liar in front of her own family, Sakura ground out, choosing to persuade with a testy undertone more than anything else, "I'm sure he wants to train you himself if he had the chance. He might get hurt to hear that someone else is taking that away from him. Okay?"

A moment of silence overtook the mother and daughter both. Emerald orbs bore into those pools of midnight black behind red-rimmed glasses. Sakura stiffened. Her eyebrows drew together, and her lips pressed thinly at the seam. In her green eyes stirred specks of desire for the young girl to understand her plight. But half a minute more under Sarada's yet unbending gaze made the older woman's expression grow unsteady. Oh it was so wrong of her to try to involve her daughter in her cover-up! Her lower lip began to quiver with a sense of surrender that was about to take over...

"Okay, fine. I get it." Sarada finally released a sigh, shrugging and glancing sideways before meeting her mother in the eye again. Her meaningful eyes considered her for a moment longer, during which Sakura's throat constricted at the sudden hunch that perhaps her daughter knew a little more than she ever let on...

Before Sakura could linger over that troubling thought, the last member of their family had reappeared to join her and Sarada in the dining room. Having shed his large cloak, Sasuke donned a plain long-sleeve shirt and a pair of loose-fitting trousers. A simple wash had the skin of his face and neck noticeably brightened; scrubbed away were the dirt and grimes that had caked into his pores from his weary travels.

Naturally, he settled himself in a seat by the dinner table. After browsing the dishes laid before him, he looked to her and Sarada expectantly. The youngest of the three was quick to plop into a seat beside the older man, while Sakura copied, albeit rigidly, on the opposite side facing the duo. The pace of her heart quickened once again as she was in his overwhelming presence.

"You've grown since I last saw you, Sarada."

Over the clicks of chopsticks and quiet chewing, a familial conversation was initiated, one that Sakura couldn't bring herself to participate. She minced the bits of food in her mouth tediously and tastelessly. At every possible opportunity that went unnoticed by her unsuspecting husband and daughter, her nervous gaze would shoot over to the direction of the genkan.

"Papa, how do you like our new apartment?"

The possibility that Gaara might show up at the doorstep of the Uchiha residence tonight had dread pour over her like lead, contrary to usual. The clock on the wall ticked like her doomsday clock. Against those moving dials, her brain raced for cover stories, while she secretly prayed that the horrible scenario would not unfold.

"It's small. What happened to the old house?"

The small talk over their meal inevitably dissolved into buzzing white noise in Sakura's background until her yet turbulent heartbeats were all that echoed in her ears.

"Sakura."

She startled, shoulders jerked upward; and released from her a squeal she couldn't suppress in time before a wiggle of the brow was given to her from the dark-haired man that'd just walked into the kitchen. Her hand flew to her chest, as she tried to collect her nerves.

A look of questioning flashed through her husband's features, one he allowed to disappear just as quickly, as he set down by the sink plates with leftover food residue.

Sakura squeezed her lips together, stopping the apology that'd almost slipped through out of reflex; it would've been the umpteenth time otherwise in the past few days, and it was starting to be too jarring.

"Did—did you like the food?" she asked her husband instead.

"Hmn." Their eye contact broke at his noncommittal hum. Without much dawdling he then exited out of the kitchen, leaving Sakura to pick up the plates and sigh to herself quietly.

The day before yesterday, yesterday, today... She was having an impossible time reining in the monster of panic that grew and thrived inside of her at every creaking of the front door opening; her heart easily catapulted to her throat at the notion that Sasuke would come bursting through, trample her with his rage and blistering condemnation having uncovered her transgression. Everyday was like walking on eggshells; she was too jumpy, and she didn't like it.

Craning her head over her shoulder, she spied Sasuke taking up residence next to Sarada on the couch in the living room. The father and daughter were content in their silence as the show on TV was grabbing their attention.

With each day that passed by uneventfully, however, her consternation had begun to lessen to a more or less manageable degree; as did her fear that Gaara would come by at the most inopportune time. Perhaps he has learned of Sasuke's return, hence choosing to keep distance for the time being. It was plausible that those two have crossed paths by now, given that both had business at the Hokage Tower. With that likelihood came the idea that maybe Gaara would say "something" to Sasuke but one that Sakura quickly dismissed as nonsensical.

Her biggest worry was still Naruto. Though, judging by the absence of a wrathful confrontation from Sasuke, Sakura could only assume that their friend has yet to divulge her secret. Just what was Naruto thinking?

Her hands gripped the side of the sink, as Sakura brought her head lower pensively.

But... Naruto's inaction didn't mean she could remain at a standstill...

The hospital was her temporary escape from facing Sasuke, therefore her guilt and all her problems, but she could only spend so much time there. Her ever-so-kind colleagues had suggested for her to take time off, having gotten word about her husband's return. How could she solidly reject that offer without raising any eyebrows? So by each sundown, she'd be lingering at the doormat in front of her apartment and grappling with this seizing feeling that she was a stranger walking into a scene that she should belong but could no longer get used to.

Now that Sasuke was back for such a long length of time, she couldn't possibly just put herself on pause in her association with Gaara, holding onto a wanton wish that she could at a later date resume their routine.

A sudden gasp was set loose from her, surprising herself as if she wasn't her own person. Her fingers clamped over her mouth, as her face contorted. It was disturbing, this line of thought. Has she forgotten that her last name was Uchiha? She was a wife and mother, for god's sake! Her place was there, the space right beside Sasuke and Sarada on the couch; she had no future in some fantasy she'd made believe and indulged. Shutting her eyes, she reached deep within to find that silver of hope for her marriage, the inspiration to recover what was lost.

She was... happy... at some point. Wasn't she? With Sasuke?

Yes, yes... you were! A voice in her head urged back.

Along with the plea cued to her were those particular moments when, Sasuke asked her to marry him; when, she found out she was going to mother the child of the man that she loved...

But these memories—marred by years of giving in to her bitterness and resentment from all those times she had to hold her daughter and reassure her that her father hasn't forgotten about them—all paled to the frighteningly intense feeling brought on by the thought of locking eyes with a certain red-haired man before their mouths followed suit. That single enthralling instance when she felt the coiling of tension in her body as his lips neared, yet chose to tease her by staying a hair's breadth away and blow warm air on her sensitive ones...

...Was one that still stole her breath away even now just by the mere recall of it—

No, no, no, no...! Mortified, Sakura shot her eyes open. Shaking her head violently, she was frantic in purging from her mind what it'd decided to conjure up. How could she be fostering these shameful thoughts even at a time like this, and with her husband and daughter only feet away from her?

Perhaps, she'd simply grown lustful. Perhaps, it was all just a physical thing that was at the root of her moral corruption. But it wouldn't explain how immensely relieved she felt that Sasuke hasn't demanded any forms of affection from her, when normally she—being so touch-starved—would've taken all kinds of initiatives to seek skinship between them. It wouldn't explain how she'd scooted all the way to the edge of the bed at night, putting as much gap as possible between herself and her sleeping husband like he was the untouchable, when in fact she was the damned. Something else inside her tried to make known that these sentiments weren't all driven by her guilt, something that gnawed at her heart and ached to be recognized...

"Papa, will you help me with the Great Fireball Jutsu tomorrow?"

Sarada's bright voice rang in her ears, making Sakura turn her head once again in the direction of the living room in time to see Sasuke's lips tilt upward. There was softness in his features as he regarded the younger Uchiha, and his blooming smile reflected his handsomeness that'd returned to its former glory after just days of rest and recuperation.

"After my meetings with the Hokage."

From her angle Sakura wasn't able to see her daughter's face at first, but when she did catch a glimpse of it as the girl shifted her posture, she was positively impacted. The vivid smile that hasn't faded from Sarada as the result of her father's answer was one that moved Sakura deeply, one that kindled her motivation.

Her daughter's happiness had been and would always be the strongest incentive for her decisions...

By the time Sakura finally tore herself away from the chores that were really just excuses to occupy her mind more than her hands, a yawning Sarada was already on her way to the bedroom and Sasuke was flipping off the TV. In this last week, the kitchen had become an immaculate space, as well as her hideaway. Short on mindless tasks to continue to busy herself with, Sakura forced herself out of hiding. Two hands rubbed together, she approached her sitting husband in the living room.

Their face-to-face still made her as uneasy as that first day when she'd gone pale at the sight of him in her entryway after so many years. Without Sarada's chirpy voice or the noise of the TV to buffer, the silence that settled between them was painfully awkward for her. When Sasuke's gaze wandered to hers, Sakura fought the urge to buckle. It was by no means an imposing look, but she'd long become a lost cause when it came to having any semblance of normal reactions in front of him.

Her eyes still evasive, she swallowed before making herself speak up her stiff statement. "I need to drop by my parents'."

A moment of pause took place before she inhaled and finished the rest of her sentence in almost a murmur, "Don't wait up for me, okay?"

Silence enveloped them both again, as she nervously waited for Sasuke's response.

"Ask about them for me." She heard him calmly say. His words caused a pinch in her heart.

Nodding slowly, Sakura complied, still unable to look at him as she told what she resolved was her last lie.

"I will."

A/N: I think it's funny how, in the Boruto anime, Sakura fainted upon seeing Sasuke when he returned home. It kinda plays into this storyline—I can't help but picture the reason that she fainted was because of her secret affair with Gaara. XD