Impossible. Her eyes grew wide. Impossible, she repeated to herself, hoping her words to be real. But no matter how many times she'd repeat it, Sakuno knew they weren't true.
"It's their culture." They told her as if she was the one who was mistaken. "It means nothing to them, they're just more liberated."
"It was just a kiss." They said, cooing her, repeatedly and repeatedly until Sakuno started tuning them out. It wasn't just a kiss for her. Kisses weren't "just"-s. So she just sat there, slouched on the floor, not knowing how to react to the picture on an unknown New York tabloid website that was linked to her, containing the haunting and mortifying picture of the person who had promised his whole self to her and her alone, sucking face with some woman in some party all pressed up against each other.
She's grown numb from the shock that she couldn't even feel heartbreak.
"It's really inevitable. He's a celebrity. He's a young handsome foreigner. Of course women would chase after him."
"Don't think too much of it. It's just a kiss."