It was an exasperated letter written in frustration on her work email about her boss, Sasuke Uchiha. It was never meant to be sent, especially not to their CEO, also known as his dad. When Sakura's true feelings about her torment comes to light, she's surprised by the consequences.

Sent 1:23am

Dear Mr. Fugaku,

Your son is a twisted bastard with a stick up his ass. His manners are only fine with persons he thinks he can gain something from. He's a terrible human being and manager, otherwise. Please require better of your heir and make him give a damn about others.

Sincerely,

Sakura Haruno

Head Marketing Associate

Uchiha Corp

Sakura awoke in her bed with a hammering hangover. Her mouth felt like cotton, and her eyes pulsed behind her closed eyelids. In short, she felt like shit. Worse than shit, actually. And she was still somehow drunk. Even while she was nestled comfortably in her thick duvet, the world around her swirled and hummed.

Despite her discomfort, she rolled to her side and reached for her phone. Because, like any good millennial, there were messages to check, Instagram stories to be viewed, and notifications to be addressed. She surveyed her phone's icons with one crusty, cracked eye pried open, and she saw the unfathomable. Work email notifications on a Saturday. As well as a missed call from her boss. Why was he calling her? Shit, shit, what was going on? Suddenly panicked into sobriety, Sakura bolted upright into a sitting position. Worrying her bottom lip between teeth, she debated between the voicemail her boss left and the email. Somehow, the voicemail felt more deadly than her alternative, in her still slightly inebriated mind. Pushing the digital envelope icon on her screen, she read the following:

Sent 7:51am

Miss Haurno,

Your email last evening greatly concerned me. Never have I heard anyone complain about my son so. You two work closely together, and I would like you to get along. Perhaps we can chat Monday morning, if your schedule permits, to discuss the bounds of your relationship and fix whatever ales you and perhaps him.

Best,

Fugaku Uchiha

CEO

Uchiha Corp

At first, Sakura had no idea what her boss was talking about. But then she read the email she sent while drunk the previous evening and felt her stomach twist with nervous energy. She called her answering manager, Sasuke Uchiha, a bastard to their boss and his father. "Stick up his ass!?" Sakura moaned as she collapsed backward onto her bed. Her head swam with questions: Was she fired? Did he tell Sasuke? What was going to happen?

Why did she SEND that email? Writing emails to people she loathed was not an uncommon practice. She tended to do it quite regularly, actually. Pissy professors, moronic exes, over-attentive parents - no one missed her lettered fury. But in her decades of writing and typing letters, she never actually SENT them. And of course, the one time she did, she sent it to the one person she absolutely shouldn't have sent it to. Her boss, of all people. "This is alllllll Ino-pig's fault!" She screeched.

It was a hard week at the office. Her manager, Sasuke Uchiha, was running her ragged. He needed multiple designs to be made for their upcoming product launch, a new electric scooter, and he was busting her balls. The social media ads weren't good enough, the Newsletter banner felt off, the copy was bland - nothing was perfect, and everything was wrong. He was driving her crazy with his perfectionist nature. She didn't even understand why she was drafting all this shit. It was his job to work on design, not hers! She ended up working late every night that week to meet his edit deadlines. And still, she knew she would have to work over the weekend to gear up for next week's tasks. A usual for her. Ino, one of the photography assistants at their company and her childhood best friend, promptly declared it a night to get "slushed." She hadn't had a great week either and swore she was balding from work stress. Sakura saw no reason to decline the declaration.

The night had started normal enough. They began the evening with happy hour at a bar around the corner from the office. And then, four drinks deep each, they ditched the bar for a fancy lounge up the street. The place was swimming with an exceptionally dressed crowd. Sakura and Ino were clearly underdressed in comparison. Her and Ino were on the cusp of not fitting the lounge's dress code with their crisp button-downs, plain pencil skirts, and work flats. But they were fairly attractive and had semi-recent blowouts, so they were permitted inside. Sitting at the bar, Sakura felt giddy with her pretty cocktail and its floating lotus flower. All was well until she locked eyes with her smartly dressed manager across the way from her, Sasuke Uchiha. He held a massive scowl on his face that creased his brow and marred his supposedly attractive face.

Sakura immediately looked away, but the damage was done. He had seen her.

"Haruno."

Fuck.

"Funny seeing you here." That was code for: I didn't see my email with my latest round of edits. Sakura sighed.

"It's Friday night." Also, code for, leave me the fuck alone, I'm off the clock.

"It is," he agreed. You're not finished with the workload from this week yet, and you're salaried.

The pinkette forced a smile on her stained lips and eyed a blonde man who was staring at them. "Your friend looks to be waiting for you." Sasuke arched a brow. She couldn't read what that meant.

Not bothering to speak code anymore, her manager leaned forward and smiled at her. "Looking forward to the updated mock-ups tomorrow."

Tomorrow? TOMORROW!? It was no secret she often worked over the weekend. But for Sasuke to EXPECT her to work and respond to emails on her Saturday was outrageous. "See you around, Haruno."

And that was her tipping point. She downed her drink and, through gritted teeth, ordered another as he began to walk away. By the time Ino returned and Sakura gave her the rundown of their alteraction, she was thoroughly pissed. "Fuck him," Ino glowered, feeling Sakura's rage as her own. Ordering another drink, the two conspired about what they'd do to their bosses if the could get away it. Her's being the lecherous Kakashi Hatake. "I wonder if they get off on it. Our misery, I mean," Ino slurred. "Probably do. They're psychopaths!"

Sakura's shoulders slumped at the thought. She admittedly felt so helpless. While she was handsomely paid, she wasn't sure if the abuse was worth it. Some days, she daydreamed of doing something else or screaming back at her manager for his mistreatment of her. "I mean," Sakura began, once more riled up, "who does he think he is? He's our age. He's not even older than us! It wouldn't make it any better if he was older. But it somehow makes it worse with him being our age. Does that make sense?" Ino nodded. "No, I get what you're saying. Kakashi is a jerk. But he's old enough to practically be my dad. There's some generational bullshit trauma I can somehow blame for his antics. Sasuke should be royally fucked up, like us, but not so much so that he should be our enemy."

Sakura and Ino went back and forth about how much their bosses sucked:

"It's because he's a rich boy."

"It's because he's egotistical."

"Pervert."

"Perfectionist."

"Pill."

"Pretty-"

"P-Pretty?" Sakura asked.

Ino's head was pulled back and her glass's rim was to her lips. The last few drops of her drink wet her tongue. Ino quirked a brow as she landed the object in her hand on the bar. "Hm?" "You called your boss, or our bosses, pretty." Ino furrowed her brow. "Well, you can't deny that they're both hot." Sakura made comical vomiting sounds with a perfected nauseated expression. "Gross, gross, gross! Ino!" Ino leaned forward and teasingly pulled Sakura's waist-length pink hair. "Come on, Forehead. We can hate them and admit that they're hot." "I'd rather die." "Suit yourself," she shrugged, ordering another drink. The handsome young bartender smiled at her and gave them both cocktails on the house. "For the pretty ladies keeping me company at the bar." They both smiled brightly at him. As he walked away, they giggled at each other like school girls and took a sip of their new drink. Afterward, they shared a look of satisfaction. Sakura exhaled with a sharp, "Aa." Ino nodded in agreement.

After a moment, Ino's bright blue eyes glittered. "Hey, I got an idea." Sakura leaned an arm on the bar. "What is it, Pig?" "What if you wrote a letter?" Sakura snorted. "Come on, you used to do it all the time in high school. You always felt better about things that bothered you afterward. What if you did one now?" "For Sasuke?" "No, the Easter Bunny. Yes, Sasuke!" Sakura giggled at the frustrated blush on the blonde's cheeks. "Okay, okay. I agree, I have been debating doing one." "So, why haven't you?" The emerald-eyed marketing associate twirled a strand of hair around her manicured finger. "I don't know. I guess I feel like if Sasuke were to ever get feedback from me, he'd dismiss it." "So, who would you need to write to?" Sakura paused in thought, her eyes sharpening in profound thought. "I'd probably need to talk to someone Sasuke respects and maybe fears." "So, you'd tattletale?" Ino was scandalized. Sakura laughed while playfully shoving her best friend. "Shut up. He's a prick, so talking to him wouldn't work." "Gonna tell his daddy how he's been a bad boy?" Ino suggested with doe-eyes and puckered lips. Hearing it aloud sounded ridiculous, but writing a fake letter was just as absurd. Sitting straighter on her bar stool, Sakura took a final dignified sip of her cocktail and said, "Yes. I would."

"You have huge balls, ma'am." The pinkette laughed, then rolled her eyes. "It's a fake letter." "So, write it. What's the harm?" "I don't know…" For some reason, Sakura had a bad feeling about writing a letter, even if she didn't send it. While she wouldn't admit it aloud, Sasuke frightened her. There was something kind of ominous about him. If he ever found out about how she really felt… "Write it on your phone if it worries you so much. On a note app or something," Ino said as if reading her mind. "Right, maybe…" "Look, I'll write one too. It'll be fun!" With a sigh, Sakura flipped her hair over her shoulder and rolled up her pastel green button down's sleeves.

"Fine. Let's do this."

Her fingers twitched upon her phone's keyboard, and her eyelids were heavy with alcohol. She could hardly see straight but was already typing her feelings down.

"Dear Mr. Fugaku…"

When she was done, she peered at her best friend to see Ino furiously typing on her backlit screen. Laughing, Sakura put away her own phone without a second thought about her letter. After all, she certainly felt a tension release from her shoulders. Ino was right, she did feel better. There really was no harm in sending a letter.

Or that's how she felt seven hours ago. Groaning again, Sakura placed her hands onto her closed eyelids and took deep still-panicked breaths. "This cannot be happpennniinnnnnggg."

It was only Saturday. She had one more day to ground herself before seeing Fugaku in person. Before then, she needed to respond to his email and listen to his pesky voicemail. The thought alone made her want to vomit. Or maybe that was from all the alcohol she drank the previous night. Turning to her side and rolling out of her bed, Sakura padded out of her bedroom and to her kitchen. She promptly gulped down a glass of water once she reached her destination.

Everything was going to work out, right?

Right!?