It was in the quiet moments that Sakura found that familiar pain in her chest. Tonight, it was in the silence of night as crickets chirped outside her window. Beside her, Sasuke's chest rose and fell with each even breath. His face was of a picturesque calm, something that his turbulent youth had not allowed in his waking moments.
He was home for such short periods of time, Sakura knew better than to spend the hours that remained of his stay wallowing in the ache that his absence left behind. But as he slept, she allowed herself to open that gate and permitted the emotions to flood her body.
She missed him even though he was right there. She missed the days she could wake up without wondering if this morning would be his last before he left again. She missed watching him cook breakfast—he was always an early riser—and she especially missed his gentle smiles as she intensely observed him taste the new recipe she tried for dinner. She missed every part of him and it made her wonder how a single person could hold her heart hostage.
Before she realized it, a lone tear slid from the corner of her eye and down to the pillow. More followed until her tears became a rainstorm. Tonight, she would be selfish, she told herself. Tonight, she prayed that she didn't need to share her husband with an entire village, that they could live as her friends do and raise Sarada in a home where she didn't need to question whether her parents truly loved each other.
Sakura clamped her hand over her mouth, willing the sobs to subside, afraid that Sasuke would wake and find her in this state of weakness. Just ten more minutes, she told herself. Ten more minutes and then she'll don that mask she wore so well—the one that told the world she would shoulder their burdens without a second thought.
In the morning, she'll become Sakura Uchiha, the head of Konoha's hospital. But tonight, she only wanted to be Sasuke Uchiha's wife.