Sasuke is handsome with a strong build, stable job and a loving family. What more could Sakura have bargained for in a marriage?
Love.
That's the only thing he can't give her.
Sasuke has his heart for someone while Sakura has confused feelings. Bo...
Sakura jolts out of sleep to a wash of panorama. Her pupils zoom in and out of focus before she can extrapolate the perimeters of the bare ceiling suspended over her head. Her head pains, but she slept, though she supposed she would not; fatigue beat anxiety. Sakura plops herself over the mattress, a hand behind her holding her weight as she fishes out dirt from the corner of her eyes with the other. She lifelessly gawks at her legs. The sheets crumble under her fist.
Not a tear escaped her last night—the fear of saddling Sasuke with even more disappointment scorched whatever wetness her eyes could have dribbled. Or she ran out early on and Sasuke is just an excuse for her stone-heartedness. It doesn't matter. His couch lies devoid of anything, spreads neatly parked at the rim of his bed, windows open, letting cold, fresh winds purify the sullen atmosphere.
Her legs are stiff. She wishes to believe it was all a nightmare, and she has woken up to her new husband beside her—only she is alone. Sakura reaches her hand out, feeling the mattress on the other side of the bed as wrinkles form on the silk sheets under the touch of her fingers. It's cold—colder than her shivering body. She feels like her heart can give out any second, like the last dangling flame of a candle vaporized till the end—she only needs a wind to be sucked away. The smell of incense is gone—an earthy whiff mingled with the smell of grilled fish replaces it. She focuses on it. The cold doesn't unnerve her anymore, instead, she feels a surge of heat traversing through her veins gradually melting its walls, growing wider, till it sets fire to her heart. Her head is killing her—the stress and exhaustion have always prevailed in her life, and she thought she can get used to everything life throws at her. However, knowing her husband loves someone else, she may love someone of her choice and living, pretending they're a happy couple—she isn't used to it. There's no choice but to, though. Sakura has people she doesn't want to disappoint. The fish sizzles louder. It's burning. Sakura knows how it feels.
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"When I grow up, I'm going to marry a prince," Sakura said one evening. She pressed the heel of her feet to the edge of the swing as it whooshed forth, cutting through the warm, evening air. Ino was beside her on another swing, wondering how Sakura's herbal eyes seem like honey swirling in them under the wrap of the setting sun.
"You can't, Sakura, you're poor. Princes only marry rich princesses." Ino didn't intend to sound harsh. A five-year-old would only understand so much about phrasing things; they only just learnt how to write their names. Regardless, Sakura felt slightly down by the remembrance. She hunched her head, obscuring her face under the curtain of shoulder-length black hair as she took a sniff, crinkling her nose to hold back a tear. She bit her lip and her head whisked to Ino.
"In those anime shows though, they marry the poor girls who are strong and kind." She whined, eliciting a stunned reaction out of Ino. "I'll be strong and kind. Then I'll marry a rich prince."
