It's only after Sarada is asleep post lunch that it finally comes.
The look Sakura's parents give me from the other side of the table, it's definitely not one of approval. But I wasn't expecting it anyway.
Her mother sighs, her shoulders slumping. As if giving up.
"I'm not even going to try. You didn't listen to us back then and you won't do it now. Besides, both of you are adults, you're free to do whatever you want with your life. Whoever you want to date or marry, that's for you to decide."
That... seems to be going smooth? A little too smooth to be honest.
"But..."
Of course! There is a but.
"This time, my granddaughter is involved in it. And you two have no right, NO right," she holds up a finger, the look in her eye leaves no room for any doubt that she means every word she's saying, "to drag her into this mess. Whatever choices you've made in the past, everything you have done, the consequences are not limited to you two only. It affects her. All of it affects her. And that's one thing you two have to remember. She did not ask to be born, she is here because of you two and you better keep that in mind."
Sakura holds my hand under the table, "We know. For both of us, Sarada is always our first priority. And we believe us getting back together will be good for her as well."
"Just know that if I see you two getting into troubles once again, this time I won't sit quiet. I won't let you two ruin Sarada's life with your madness."
Although her father doesn't say anything, I know Sakura's mother speaks for both of them.
And it doesn't offend me, even though her attitude is a little aggressive. As a parent, seeing someone care that much for your child, even if they antagonise you, it feels reassuring.
.
.
.
I'm in the middle of beating the eggs when the doorbell rings. Straightening up, I brush my apron lightly with my hands and run my fingers through my hair. Then, taking in a deep breath, I finally go to answer the door for my date. My ex-wife.
"Hi," she smiles shyly and casts her gaze down. And I feel my face heating up as well.
She looks breathtaking. In her simple sleeveless knee length red one-piece and flat red pumps. She has a knack for twisting her ankles, so heels have never really been her forte. Her hair is tied into a loose messy side-braid. She has light make-up on and I smell a familiar scent. A perfume I used to like a lot when we were still together. I haven't smelled it on her all this time and frankly, I didn't even remember it. But now that I'm suddenly hit by that fragrance once again, it brings back a thousand memories.
"Come in."
She gets inside. Slipping on the slippers I give her, she sniffs. "You made pineapple chicken?"
"Hn."
"Really?"
The way her face brightens up, because I made some fucking chicken, I can't help the chuckle.
She follows me as I walk back to the kitchen.
"Are you making tempura?" Her eyes find the prawns lying straight on my chopping board.
"Yes."
"Wow! You prepared a feast, Sasuke!"
A feast?
"It's... only a starter and a main course and dessert."
"What's for dessert?"
"Strawberry cheesecake."
"You!" her eyes go wide, "You made it all yourself?"
"Yes," I start preparing the flour.
"I'll help you," she comes to the sink and runs the tap, washing her hands.
"No you won't."
"What?"
"I'm supposed to cook for you tonight."
"But Sasuke-"
"No but. Besides, I'm mostly done. Just need to fry the tempura and dinner will be ready."
"Fine," she pouts and goes to sit at the dining table. Eyeing me from there.
"Sarada really loves tempura." She finally speaks after she's done sulking.
"I know. I often make her tempura when she's here. And omelette." I keep my eyes on the bubbling tempura in the hot oil, already starting to turn golden in colour.
Sakura giggles, "When she was a baby, she didn't eat the actual filling you know. She'd only pick the crispy crust and leave the rest."
I look at her with a frown, "She's still a baby."
Sakura raises an eyebrow, "Okay, when she was a babier baby. Fine?" Then she laughs out loud, "She's growing up so fast! It feels like yesterday she was born and just look at her now." She sighs, "But you're right. No matter how much she grows up, to us she'll always be our baby."
.
.
.
"HOW BADLY I MISSED THIS TASTE!" she exclaims loudly, taking the first spoonful of fried rice, "I never thought I'd get to eat this again." Her excitement as she takes another spoonful reminds me of Sarada when she sees her favourite foods. "Don't think I didn't notice how you used fresh pepper."
"I'm glad my efforts weren't in vein." I smirk, happy at having my efforts recognised.
She loves black pepper, freshly ground and coarsely ground. She doesn't like it too fine because apparently it loses the flavour. She likes to bite into the small chunks and enjoy the taste of it. Which I kept in mind while making the fired rice.
"You're such a great cook, Sasuke. You're actually a better cook than me."
"Well," I shrug.
She narrows her eyes, "Don't act too smug, you can't bake to save your life."
I remember the last time I tried to bake cookies for Sarada and that ended in... me having to buy a new baking tray.
"I can make pancakes. Sarada loves my pancakes."
"Oh, come on. Making pancakes is not baking."
"Why? It's a cake."
"It's not a cake!"
"It's literally called a cake."
"Seriously Sasuke?"
"I'm the one using logic here."
She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me. I glare back. As if I'm going to lose! The she giggles and even I chuckle a little.
It's not exactly the type of romantic dinner date people would normally aspire for, but this suits us just fine.
.
.
.
"I have something to give to you," I bring her to the couch and make her sit there, "Wait here."
She complies, looking at me with curious eyes. I walk back to the kitchen. Opening the cabinet, I take out the two coffee mugs and return to her, my heart racing all of a sudden. I place the mugs silently on the coffee table in front of her, seeing the way her eyes go wide.
"These..." she looks at me, at a loss for words. "Sasuke..."
"Remember the day I moved in with you and we went shopping and bought these mugs?"
"But..." she looks back at the two mugs on the table, decorated with golden crack patterns, "You said... they got broken."
"They did," I pick up the pink mug from the table, "But I got them fixed. It's called kintsugi. Actually, Itachi was the one who told me about it. The philosophy is that just because something is broken doesn't mean it loses its value... And... Well, that scars aren't something to hide and... They give you your unique identity, things like that."
"You!" she looks at me in disbelief.
"I was holding onto these, even though they were broken and of no use. And that day when you said that our love is precious to you, even in pieces, it hit me. Just because it's broken doesn't mean it stops being special."
"Sasuke I-" tears stream down her glassy green eyes.
I take in a deep breath. "I've been worrying all this time. About how you and me, our relationship is broken and I can't take it back to how it was before all the mess. I can't undo what has already happened. But when Itachi told me about kintsugi, it made so much sense to me."
I put the mug back on the table and move closer to her, putting an arm lightly around her shoulder.
"I was... mistaken. Fixing doesn't necessarily mean we can erase the damages, make them disappear. That's not how it is. Fixing is... when that damages can't hold you back anymore."
She jumps upon me, throwing her arms around my neck, her face tucked in my chest, her tears soak into my T-shirt as her body shakes. I put my hands around her, gently stroking her back.
"Even with our history, I think we can keep going strong from now on. Don't you agree?"
She doesn't respond, just keeps crying like a little kid.
I sit there, holding her close, breathing in the scent of my favourite perfume. "In one way, because we had Sarada so young that things went downhill. But if not for her, we won't be who we are today. She made us. When I think about it, it's as if she is the kintsugi in our relationship."
She gave us our identity, just like these broken patterns on the two coffee mugs that give them a uniqueness.
"Oh," I put my hands on her shoulders, pulling her away from my chest, looking her in the eye, "We can't use these mugs by the way. I couldn't afford that one. I did this so that we can keep them as a token. Like a symbolic expression."
That sounds kinda… dramatic?
With her eyes red and puffy and a runny nose, Sakura giggles, "I love you so so so much, Sasuke. You have no idea," and she kisses me. Her fingers digging into my T-shirt and she shifts a little, properly straddling me. I wrap her in my arms tighter and pull her closer and closer until there's no space left between us.
Note: At first I had thought of naming this story Kintsugi but I didn't because it's a Japanese word, I feel like it might come out as showing off LOL. I had this whole kintsugi thing planned of course, hence pushing the mugs again and again (and again!) but the idea that Sarada is the real kintsugi in their relationship, it wasn't my own, it was suggested by reader Little Whale. I thought it was beautiful and used it. So, clap clap clap for reader Little Whale XOX.
Anyway, are you guys doing okay? May has been the worst month for me personally and even on a global scale I see a lot happening. I wonder if we'll ever recover from 2020. We're literally living history at the moment. Take care everyone. I love you all.
June ❤️
[31.05.2020]