(now)

The first time she met him, he stumbled into her room through the window, mistaking it for Naruto's bedroom. The first time he saw her, she was a crumpled heap on the floor, her hand clutching her chest and scratching at her throat because she felt suffocated. The first time he held her is a breath of fresh air in her lungs. Their story begins when she's having a breakdown, right in the middle of a panic attack.

But it wasn't a love story right off the bat. It was a conundrum. But one thing has always been clear to her; from the very first time she saw him, she knew that he wasn't just a passing character in her life−he was one that stays. The real story starts when she can't get him out of her mind and he can't get her out from under his skin. The real story wasn't a love story; it was a story of finding comfort and release and sneaking around, a story of clumsy confessions and confused feelings and denial and avoidance. The real story was something without a name, an undefined relationship. The love story doesn't start until years later...

Now, a waiter ushers her to one of their function rooms. Sasuke Uchiha barely looks up from his phone when the door opens and she sits across from him. The menu is laid out but she doesn't take her eyes off of the beautiful man as she points to the dish she usually gets. The waiter nods politely and leaves after jotting down the order.

"Is the meeting over or did you bring the whole firm with you?" she asks bitterly.

Sasuke spares her a glance and sighs. He looks tired, more worn out than usual. He takes another minute or two before she hears the sound of the email being sent, then he places his phone face down on the table. Never away, never out of reach, always just by his side. Sakura takes a sip of water because the thought makes her throat feel constricted.

"Did you…"

"Not yet."

"You don't want to?" he asks, and she sees something flash behind his eyes. Something that looks a lot like hope.

Sakura hesitates. It's not a matter of if she wants to or not. Not a matter of if she loves him or not. She doesn't want to because she loves him. But at the same time, she has to. Because… because being with him−loving him in one moment and completely loathing him the next−it's suffocating her. "I do," she says. The words leave a bitter taste in her mouth as she remembers the last time she had said them; on their wedding day.

She takes out the folder he had delivered earlier in the morning and plucks a pen out of one of the pockets of her purse. She is about to flip through it and sign when the waiter arrives with their orders. Sasuke clears his throat and gestures for her to leave it for a moment and enjoy their meal first−probably the last meal they would share as husband and wife.

"Itadakimasu," he says, voice clipped. She nods in silent agreement.

The meal isn't as awkward as she had expected it to be. It isn't as tensed, either. It's… a little peaceful, she thinks, like they've both finally reached an equilibrium. They are finally on equal footing, on the same page, barely holding on and ready to let go. She wonders if this is what closure feels like.

They finish eating sooner than she expects, and she is faced with the documents yet again. The waiter clears the table until there is nothing else to focus her sights on other than the terms and conditions listed in the divorce papers. "I'm chief of surgery now," she says, for the sake of filling the room with something other than the sound of her pen against paper as she signs their whole marriage away.

He nods and he shifts in his seat, sitting straighter. There is pride in his shoulders, and she knows it's for her. "I read the journal. You look good on the cover," he says. He tosses his napkin onto the table carelessly after wiping at the corners of his mouth."But the writing's shit and doesn't do you justice at all."

An unexpected laugh erupts from her throat and she looks up at him briefly. "I haven't even had the time to read it yet."

(There is a twinkle in her eyes, the kind that he hasn't seen in so long.)

"What about you? How's your work? Any new interesting cases?" she asks. He is everywhere lately; she sees him on the nightly news, the papers… Sasuke Uchiha has really made a name for himself.

(It can be simple like this.)

(It could have been.)

(It should have been.)

(Why isn't it…?)

"Sakura, can't we−"

(Can't we try again?)

But as if to answer his own question, his phone rings. There was a split second when she perked up when he started his question, but the moment went as soon as it came. Her face drops when he answers his phone, excusing himself from the table to stand in the corner to argue in hushed tones with the person on the other end of the line. Whatever it is sounds urgent and her ears pick up bits and pieces as he hisses at the other person, something about an unwilling key witness.

Sakura breathes out when she reaches the last page and Sasuke pinches the bridge of his nose when he cut the call. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration and she watches his hand clench and unclench. "I finished," she says, and he jumps a little, like he's forgotten she was there at all. "That sounded important. I don't want to keep you."

She rises from her seat and gathers her belongings, walking over to him to hand him the folder. He looks at her, his obsidian eyes staring into her jaded jade ones, as if searching for something. Then his eyes lower to the papers. He exhales. "Sakura," he says. He does not say anything else but she knows, she understands.

"I know," she replies. I love you, too. I'm sorry, too.

He takes a wad of cash out of his wallet and tosses it on the table.

"I'll walk you to your car," he mutters.

His hand on the small of her back sends a jolt up her spine. After years of being together, confusedly and unwillingly falling in love and decidedly falling out of it, and a single touch still shocks her entire system. And she can tell he feels the spark, because he stiffens for a moment. After all this time, after everything, and all of it still there.

They had been too young and now they are too busy. Too much has happened. This love was built in ruins and perhaps that's why it was unable to flourish the way it was supposed to. Still, a part of her wants to fight for this, fight for him, for them. But she also knows there's no fight left in her. Everything… is too stained and strained. With grief, anger, stress, and even love couldn't save them from that past. Even love couldn't make them heal. And it is time to accept it. Better now that she loves him still, than later when she couldn't stand him and their history is painted in an ugly color so that she couldn't remember anything good in him, in them.

She wants to not-love him. She doesn't want to hate him, because the opposite of love isn't hate. The opposite of love is leaving. The opposite of love is giving up.

He walks her to her car and opens the door for her when she's unlocked it. She hesitates and he reaches out to tuck a loose strand of pink hair behind her ear, his finger grazing her skin.

"You still have some things at my place," she says, faster than intended because her knees weakened at the contact and she doesn't want him to see her wavering.

(He winces; it used to be our place.) "I'll come by to get them within the week."

"I've sorted them already. The boxes will be in the study."

She turns to open her door, but before she can slide into the driver's seat, his hand is around her wrist and he is pinning her against the car. Her breath hitches and her heartbeat quickens. She wants to kiss him, she realizes, but it isn't a good idea. She sees the tired look on his face and she knows the same shadows hang under her eyes. It is a reminder of the different lives they led outside of their marriage, the responsibility that is bigger than just them.

Never did she think that success would be this draining. That the price to pay for achieving her dreams and exceeding her goals would be this big. Never did she think that she would have to trade Sasuke Uchiha for her own life, her own career. And yet, here she is.

He rests his forehead against hers.

"I really did love you," she whispers. "I still do."

"Aa."

No matter what has happened, one thing still holds true−there was only ever Sakura for Sasuke, and Sasuke for Sakura.

He places two of his fingers on her forehead, before turning on his heels and walking away. And somehow, it didn't feel like a goodbye.

.

.

.

fin.

notes: this is a simple fic with a simple plot, but it is a story that is very timely with the events in my life. this is a story about the natural progression of relationships; of confusing feelings, falling in love, and falling out of it. now i'm sure you didn't enjoy a story where your otp doesn't end up together or one that leaves you in confusion because of the story structure. but i wanna thank everyone who hung around and actually read it.

and like i said in the earlier chapters, this is the first time i've tried this kind of writing style, so it's a very experimental piece. think of it more as a word vomit than an actual story, if you must. i'm not even sure if i'm happy with it or not, or if it's something i'm proud of having produced. but i gotta say, i feel a little relieved to get this out of my system. like i said, this was somewhat personal. i guess i wrote this more for myself than i did for you.

much love, nina.