A/N: Gosh, another year-long wait for an update, ugh. Thank you all for your patience! Hey, at least I'm keeping my promise that I'm not abandoning this story. Next chapter will be the last chapter actually, can you believe it? (cries) I know a lot of you were wanting to live through that sweet, sweet confrontation between Sasuke and Sakura vicariously. But I just couldn't see Sakura in a position to do that given that she was still in the wrong. Or maybe this justification was just a cop-out since I don't really like writing confrontations, haha. In any case, I hope the conclusion will be satisfactory. :')

Oh also I needed some angst in this chapter. Just a smudge.

Chapter 28

"What happened... to Sasuke?"

Sakura didn't remember much, but she did remember waking up in the Uzumaki household with Sarada flinging herself to her bedside from across the room. When she moved her groggy, confused eyes from the girl in her slack embrace to the velvet darkness outside of the bedroom window, she was told she'd been out for hours. In a daze and under other watchful gazes in the room, she muttered again. "What happened to Sasuke?"

There was mild throbbing in her head that persisted for the next couple of days—a side effect of being placed under a strong genjutsu, as later confirmed by another specialist at the hospital. Not a major concern, he said. She pretended not to pick up on the medic's keen expression that was a tell-tale of his curiosity for specifics and simply gave her thanks and made her visit short. It didn't take long for her mind to piece together the awful memory of her clash with her husband. When recalling his threats to take away what was most precious to her, she'd rather that she suffered amnesia of the deep hurt he inflicted on her. He didn't succeed in that attempt, obviously. And he'd left in the time she'd been unconscious and was no longer in Konoha, so she found out with barely any surprise. Of course, Sasuke had gone away again.

"I'm sorry."

Sakura lifted to see those ocean green eyes pinned on her, the apology in them genuine. She was aware of the curry and rice dinner she made for two that sat on the dining table, not a single bite had been taken out from the plates. They are just lukewarm now.

The pensive gaze stayed on her. An explanation was emphasized. "He won't sign the divorce papers. You tried. Naruto said so."

In her apartment, sitting side by side, Sakura stared at Gaara and felt every bit of the weight of his sincerity. Her heart folded in on itself a little. He looked child-like earnest, as though her understanding was the one and only thing he needed, craved for his world to continue tonight. She didn't know whether to be mad at him or Naruto over the events that had unfolded and escalated. It almost seemed like her dear friend, her "ride-or-die" ex-teammate, the current Hokage, was somehow trying to overcompensate for all the times he'd overlooked her emotional wellbeing by getting himself involved and getting Gaara involved in every intimate detail of her life, generously giving out knowledge about her to him without her knowing.

She also didn't understand why Gaara had felt the necessity to act on her behalf to confront Sasuke at that particular time of his choosing. But she supposed she on her own—tied to the village with all her family and work responsibilities—couldn't have possibly chased down her drifting husband halfway around the world to demand him to sign the divorce agreement. Perhaps Gaara too was thinking along that line. Perhaps he had his own motives. And what that implied for their relationship going forward gave tingles to her insides from excitement. From fear. She shut her eyes, inhaling.

Even as her forehead remained bunched up, she wasn't upset. Not anymore. She was just so tired and drained. And her heavy silence wasn't coming from an unwillingness to accept Gaara's actions and her perceived recklessness from him over his fight with Sasuke. He could've gotten hurt, she worried.

All the episodes from these past few days she'd continued to dwell on left her grappling with self-doubt. Her mind was her own worst enemy, making her always return to those words that were spoken to her with vehemence and prejudice, unable to escape. There was truth in them nonetheless, and that was what still stung the most.

Temari was right.

She'd been selfish, existing in only two states: Freely indulging in Gaara's attention and care on her happy days, and on the bad days glossing over the potential fallouts she'd have to deal with in pursuing a new relationship. She had, however, temporarily lost sight of the fact that Gaara, a respected leader of so many, could face serious consequences by being with her...

And she couldn't possibly do this to him.

"Sakura..." She saw her red-haired companion leaning forward, closer. She felt the harsh bite of her teeth on her lips, as he implored. "Speak your mind."

He was always good at picking up on signs to her quiet struggles. Or maybe she was really that easy to read? At his gentle expression, Sakura softened her eyes, sad.

Her eyes traced the contour of his face, noticing and imprinting into memory his every unique feature. She loved the rust red of his hair that was her favorite color, the fiery red tattoo that spelled out what they both searched for was one and the same, those ocean-like green eyes rimmed with dark shadows that brought out a certain glow, a straight nose, high cheekbones and a well-defined jawline, and the neutral tilt of lips he always had that made his rare smiles even more treasured. This man before her was handsome, mature, and intelligent. An elite. Flawless.

And Sakura pictured someone else by his side...

"Why... me?" Her insecurity manifested in but a small dry whisper.

He drew his brows together, looking quizzical by the sudden redirection of their exchange. His mouth began to crack open after a second, but she refused to give him the chance to speak and insisted her stubborn belief upon him. "Why not someone more youthful, prettier, with a good background?"

...Someone more fitting for his class: A graceful young maiden from a prominent noble family, she imagined. Not a single mother, a divorcee—all labels that society would assign to her first despite all her other noteworthy achievements.

He was positively frowning now. Sakura winced a little on the inside. In a slow, tentative tone, he asked, "Do I strike you as someone who is concerned about superficial qualities?"

"No, but..."

"Why do you question my being with you?" He quickly followed with another question, seeming to catch on with her message.

She breathed a deep sigh through her nose, glancing away and into her lap. Yeah, why? Her inner self echoed the same question, peeved, shaking her head at her. Sakura ignored the voice. Instead she thought about the Kazekage of Sunagakure losing his reputation, influence, love and reverence from his people, all because he dared to break tradition by associating himself with a married woman. And even if he's shown that he was never one to be preoccupied with others' approvals and expectations, would he end up resenting her after all this? After everything he's built gets taken away, because of her?

"You don't deserve this..." She averted his eyes, as she said so, lamely. The word "me" was really what her insecure self wanted to insert at the end of her sentence. She hated that she'd regressed. What had caused this disappointing part of herself? A decade of emotional neglect was her starting guess, the lack of affection from another chipping away little by little her confidence and self-worth as a partner in a relationship.

There was nothing said for a moment. Sakura felt the air between them grow brittle. She knew she'd said something horribly wrong when she heard the heavy inhale and exhale of Gaara's breathing.

"I was born and raised a monster, a beast, a killer..." At the start of the bitter honest confession, Sakura swallowed. "For someone like you to show me kindness, care, and love... You are right. I don't deserve it."

The end of the unexpected assertion was worse than the beginning in a way she didn't think was possible. Sakura snapped her attention back to him, anxious to correct herself.

"That's not what I meant! I'm… I'm…" She was flustered. "What I'm trying to say is that you deserve someone better than me. You've lost so much and yet you made a world for yourself. Countless people look up to you, and they rely on you. I can't take that away from you..."

She was saying every wrong thing to sabotage herself, sabotage her chance at happiness again. Her inner persona screamed, thrashed around in the back of her mind, trying to make her shut up. But she couldn't stop her stupid, stupid self.

"You have every right to be loved… but I'm not sure I can be the right one."

Someday, when it was all over and done, would he hate her?

The clock on the wall ticked on. The quietness that blanketed them both again was painful. The muscles around her eyes quivered as she looked at him, sorrowful. It took every ounce of her willpower not to look away from the frown that darkened his entire face, because she wanted him to understand the unspoken. Those words she might not have gotten right in this time and space, they weren't meant to hurt.

His lips parted at the seam. He breathed, a subtle ripple in the low rumble of his voice. "Is this truly what you want?"

Sakura's heart sank. He went straight to the core of the matter, what all the back and forth—if he'd allowed it—would strip down to. It was never his style to be roundabout.

It shouldn't be difficult to give an answer if she was already so decided in her mind, but she couldn't command her mouth to move. There was tightness in her chest that rose and gripped her throat. She continued to stare at him, wordless, studying how the crease between his brows had deepened and how he'd narrowed his eyes at her. He exuded an aura of frustration and annoyance that she surely felt. He sounded almost miffed with her, despite his controlled tone. And it reminded her that he was human. Like her. Not the high-above-all venerated leader—mythical in a way, untouchable. Not Sasuke.

Gaara won't push her, Sakura knew. One word from her could easily send him out of her door, out of her life, and never to be seen again, she knew. But she wished that this wasn't the case. She wished for a show of force with his speech to call her out on her indecisiveness and idiocy. He was always so considerate. Too considerate. Sometimes to his own detriment.

But she also knew she was being selfish again. How could she expect him to fight for a future together, when she was having doubts and getting cold feet from every malicious jab of gossip, every judgmental remark? When she wasn't trying to fight for him?

The top row of her teeth gritted down on the bottom. Sakura looked at the redhead hard, the conflict in her pulling her emotions in all directions. Would she be the enabler of a possibly doomed relationship? Could she really let him go?

The back of her nose burned. Her eyes stung with tears that were about to flow despite herself. She squeezed her eyes shut, as she finally let out a faint whisper, but with distinctness:

"No." Stay. Stay with me. No matter what. She decided on the truth from her heart, not the one concocted from her unwholesome logic, unable to bring herself to say the three-letter word and knowing it would break her. With that, she fervently prayed that they'd be able to bridge their distance and overcome all obstacles, that they'd work out, that she'd walk the road ahead, with his hand in hers...

"Come here..."

Sakura looked up, her breathing caught from the way his intent gaze bore into her. Gaara was kind not to have her recite or elaborate through what were now trembling lips and all. A strong arm had already slided over, pulling her with gentleness and inviting her to settle in his lap. A gesture of understanding, comfort, reassurance—she let him with ease, her hand clung back and fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve.

"You deserve everything I have to offer."

She choked, letting his soft whisper touch her heart and reaching in deep to take root. At that moment she realized, he'd wanted her to convince herself first about them, before he could convince her.

Tears fell, not of sadness, but appreciation. It was the last time she'd cry with him, she swore.

It was no secret that Gaara was not a man of many words, and she was bad at communicating. But to Sakura, he somehow always understood her, always knew the right things to say...

A miniature mound of green stems formed on the tabletop. The colander in front of Sakura was almost full, with fresh string beans trimmed off of their ends. Dinner preparation was in the works. These old menial routines have been a welcoming change of pace in her life lately, after a roller coaster of events and developments that thoroughly exhausted her. It was nice to be spending some time at home, absorbed in simple small things like ideas for the next meal when they've already had stir fry three times in a row.

The peace and quiet that surrounded her now was just peace and quiet, not agitating and unbearable like before, when it'd used to make her feel lonely. Things have changed, for the better, and Sakura was thankful to have gotten time off to rest and recharge. Leisurely, she went about with her work.

"Mama..."

Sakura slanted her head to her right. There stood the adolescent who'd gained her partial focus. Sarada made slow steps as if measuring, coming closer and idling by one side of the table. Her palm anchored down on the wooden surface next to her. Dark eyes considered her momentarily and thoughtfully.

"Do you not love Papa anymore?" she spoke up.

A snap, a piece fell into the pile on the table, then there was no more. The pair of hands stopped sharp in their task. Sakura sucked in air, eyebrows pressed together as she set her undivided attention on her daughter. The girl's composure betrayed no emotions, despite the weighty question that'd just made Sakura falter.

Rotating in her seat, she faced her daughter fully and gathered her previously working hands in her lap. She told the young one, showing patience despite her sudden approach, "Your dad will always have a special place in my heart. Because of him, I have you."

It was the best version of the answer she could give—a gentler version. Around Sarada, she spoke delicately, careful to handle her feelings like they were more fragile than glass. She'd been unfairly put through just as much hurt and confusion, at such an innocent age too. And Sakura was guilty.

Sarada chewed on her response, her gaze lowering.

"What about Gaara-ojisan..." she asked again, after a pause, "do you love him?"

Sakura blinked, mouth falling slightly open from the surprise that came at this next question. After a moment, her hand extended out, brushing back dark bangs to make bright eyes visible to her again.

"Sarada, the most important thing to me is your happiness," softly, she said, tucking stray strands of hair behind her daughter's ear. She wanted to reassure the little one. Many things have changed in this past year. But some things have not, will not, ever change.

The raven-haired girl stared into her face, quiet. Then her gaze dropped for the second time.

"It's okay…"

Sakura gave her a quizzical look.

"It's okay..." Sarada repeated, lips mumbling words as though to herself. Her voice shook, a minute crack to it, as she finally finished, "it's okay, if you love Gaara-ojisan..." She returned to her eye level, and Sakura was startled. There was glimmering wetness on the girl's cheeks.

The sight caused a twinge of hurt in Sakura's chest.

Immediately, she pulled Sarada in her direction, arms wrapping around her small shoulders and squeezing her into a hug. Sakura smiled a melancholy smile, thankful. It was her daughter's way of reassuring her. I'll be okay. Sarada had told her, in spite of the spilled tears.

In Sakura's motherly embrace, Sarada sniffled and spoke with a muffled voice, "You know, I like our apartment. I don't want to see you destroy it with one punch... and I think that won't happen if Gaara-ojisan is around."

Sakura could feel the grin behind the joke. She couldn't help but let out an airy laugh, cuddling the girl tighter. The ache in her heart began to dissipate. "Oh you silly goose."

"I can't breathe!"

It was the first day of summer when a call came from the Hokage Tower, requesting Sakura's attendance. Naruto's voice carried over through the handset pressed against Sakura's ear, delivering her the surprise news that Sasuke was back in Konoha—currently in his office, in fact. The message left her speechless for a moment, at a loss for a timely response. A sense of distress began to fill her. As if on cue the Hokage added, after what felt like a thoughtful delay, that Gaara could accompany her if she wanted. With the receiver in her hand, Sakura looked over to her living room couch, where a redhead had just muted the local broadcast on TV. Turquoise eyes met hers then.

Much of the walk to the administrative building had been without any talking, but the silence wasn't nearly as uncomfortable and tense as the one that stretched for minutes on end in the Hokage's office. Taut stares were exchanged from one to another as greetings in the privacy of a closed-door meeting. Sakura's uneasy glance shifted to behind the desk where Naruto sat with laced fingers, to a poker-faced Shikamaru standing at his flank, to the visitor whose straight and rigid body was at an angle from her, and lastly to the familiar thick manila envelope in the middle of Naruto's desk. The space around the item had been cleared, seemingly with effort, especially since the surrounding piles of paperwork appeared to have achieved new perilous heights.

Sakura pulled her attention back to Sasuke. His chin-length black hair hid his profile from her, but his stark presence was no less glaring. She felt her breathing grow slightly troubled, felt the itch in her hand making her want to reach for and grab that of her companion's closeby. She resisted the urge. The thoughts in her head churned. Why she was asked to be there, it could only mean one thing...

Maybe Sasuke had a change of mind. She hoped.

He didn't look at or address anyone when he finally, suddenly spoke; but she knew it was directed at her, as did everyone else in the room, she was sure.

"So you are just going to throw all this away?"

It was like a low growl. There was resentment oozing from his jarring tone. He compelled her for an answer, setting his spiteful eyes on her for the first time. A glare that demanded reparation.

Sakura grimaced. He wouldn't let her dream easy. While she was far from expecting him to receive her courteously, it was a pattern with him that he rarely ever gave her a proper greeting upon his return. However, the circumstances were vastly different now, of course. So she pushed this trivial observation to the back of her head, and she heaved a sigh in cold humor.

A weary scowl tugged the thin line of her mouth downward. Sakura was slow to make a sound, debating if there was even a need to justify herself and explain the reasons that she had little faith about getting through to his obstinate, anger-infested mind.

"And for what?" But it was when Sasuke quickly turned his dark-eyed gaze toward the red-haired man by her side that Sakura realized that he didn't care what she had to say at all. His face became mocking. A sneer crept up the edges of his lips, and he was about to open them—surely, to get a rile out of her.

In that brief second, she wondered if she should've come alone. But she needed the emotional support.

"Sasuke." She said his name firmly, putting a stop to the ugly words that were certainly going to spill from a lashing tongue.

Sakura sensed all eyes in the room on her, feeling herself becoming the center of the scene. She didn't want to fight, argue, or drag on with the inevitable. He was the type to bottle things up, and she hasn't learned how to share her feelings openly. Really, a terrible combination. So she wasn't going to pull him aside and have a private conversation for closure. It was already exhausting, and she simply wanted this episode of her life to be over.

Maybe someday they'd learn to talk about their differences and mistakes... someday...

Her chest rose and fell with a deep set of inhale and exhale, she made her sentiments known.

"I'm sorry… about us," she told him, sincerely.

To the person she couldn't save after all, she was sorry. Sorry about the love that never grew. Sorry about the marriage that ended in disappointment and unhappiness. Sorry about the choices that made them turn out this way...

Still. It wasn't an apology, especially not one that she knew Sasuke would want to hear. She didn't apologize for her actions to acknowledge any regrets. Won't apologize.

Because she didn't regret having moved on.

"But if..." She hasn't finished yet. Her head dipped a degree downward, as she whispered, feeling emotional all over as she did. "If you find in your heart that you still care about me, even just a little..."

She raised her resolute eyes, open and honest. Her swirling emotions inside her needing to be freed, she implored him, with weakness, with strength. Not a single word minced this time with him:

"Then you'd let me go."

Involuntarily, Sakura held her breath. The seconds she counted to herself felt longer than they were, when no one moved, when not a single noise was produced. She tried to gauge Sasuke's reaction, finding herself able to see the moment that her words took effect on him when the stare he fixed on her changed from blank to pensive.

The first movement was from him, so abrupt that it made her almost jump in her fear of a harsh comeback. Sasuke shifted, turning away from her and marching a step up to the Hokage's desk. To her absolute astonishment, he said, "I have to sign where."

That same amazement was shared, as it took a good couple seconds before Naruto could unseal the envelope and reveal the divorce agreement. To Sakura, what was even more astonishing was Sasuke's unanticipated cooperative behavior and his acceptance of the stipulations she'd set forth. He'd picked up a pen and fluidly wrote on the documents, sheet after sheet, as a rather flustered Naruto pointed to the lines for his signatures.

"Anything else." Along with the rustling of papers, Sakura heard Sasuke ask.

"That—that's it..." was the Hokage's stuttered reply. Blue eyes darted over to her.

She watched as Sasuke set the pen down, straightened his back, and whirled around. Without another word, he walked past her motionless form, to the exit, and out of their meeting—all done so efficiently and effortlessly. So like him...

Her awe still had the best of her. It wasn't until halfway through Naruto's courtesy updates to them afterwards on the findings related to the Otsutsuki Clan that Sakura—sitting there and clutching to that life-changing file of hers in her lap—ultimately realized that Sasuke had indeed come back with a change of heart.

Because he didn't have to stay after reporting on his mission...

It was so like him, that idiot, to still try to give her hard time even when he agreed with her. He'd probably have signed the agreement without her earlier plea anyway. But what was it that'd driven him to accept her decisions? She couldn't help but wonder.

"Excuse me."

"Eh?"

Sakura stood in a hurry, gripping her paperwork to her chest for an instant before gingerly laying it down onto Naruto's desk. Chewing on her lips, she glanced down at her red-haired companion. He gave his slow nod back. He was always so astute. Baffled, Naruto gave them his blinking eyes from across the table.

At the village gates, she caught up with him. "Sasuke."

Ahead of her, the pair of sandaled feet halted, a short distance away from the threshold of Konoha.

"You are and always will be Sarada's father. Remember that," she cried out, a little breathless. It was the parting message she wanted to pass on to him.

A rare breeze blew over them in their moment of stillness. He had yet to take another step onward.

"Gaara."

The baritone of his voice reverberated through the air. She saw Sasuke looking over his shoulder in their direction. She gasped lightly at the name uttered. It was the first time he used Gaara's name. It sounded foreign.

"Take care of them."

At his request to her company in tow, Sakura opened and closed her mouth. Nothing came out. Quietly, she watched as he turned his head back and resumed his walking.

Remember that... She chanted from her heart. The hard feelings won't go away for a while, but their goodbye didn't mean that he'd be cut off from Sarada's life. She hoped that he'd understood that from her. That maybe he'd stop by on one of Sarada's birthdays... From deep down, she could only wish Sasuke well on his long journeys ahead.

The departing figure in her vision became distant, soon like her memories of the two of them. At the same time, she sensed the other presence by her drawing closer, just as she felt fingers searching for hers from below and entwining them together. There was a gentle squeeze of her hand.

Sakura brought her focus up to her companion and saw the slow roll of the teal iris toward her, saw the way Gaara surveyed her through the corner of his eye before he turned his face to her, in a move that she found was unique to him. Something that he habitually did without awareness of just how attractive it was, she thought. At her, he smiled.

It was the first day of summer. The afternoon sun was warm on her skin.

Her fingers tightened on Gaara's, she smiled back, freely.

It was the first day of summer, when she, Sakura Haruno, looked forward to the new season.