THE EDGE OF REASON (SEQUEL OF THE GIRLS WANT EVERYTHING)

Chapter One

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Author's note: The point of view (POV) always shifted between the author's POV and Sakura's POV only, so don't get confused since I wanted to make the story flow naturally.

1.

I trudged wearily toward my apartment, conveniently nestled not too far from downtown Los Angeles, right smack in Beverly Hills. It was supposed to be the path to a promising career in the television industry, but instead of becoming a professional journalist, I found myself moonlighting as a suitcase model on a glitzy primetime quiz show. I was often decked out in the skimpiest of outfits, effectively chipping away at my integrity as a respectable woman. In the end, I had regressed to being none other than "Sakura-the-bitch-temptress," a moniker coined by my college pals back when I worked part-time as a lingerie model.

But what could I do? The cost of living in Los Angeles was astronomical, and I couldn't make ends meet solely on scholarships and the paltry funds sent my way by my biological parents in Japan and my foster parents in New York. It was all a bit perplexing, considering it felt like I had not one, but two sets of parents.

Unfortunately, because I hadn't signed an exclusive contract to become a permanent model for Glamour Magazine, which was now parading as Exquisite Magazine, I found myself empty-handed after that Barcelona photoshoot. All those near misses around the pool and those almost-awkward slips during fashion show rehearsals—completely unrewarded. I should've held out and inked that contract for at least a year. With a monthly stipend of 50,000 yen, I could've been cruising in my very own car or sipping cocktails in Bali or Switzerland. But no, I was still harboring those starry-eyed ideals, blissfully ignorant of life's brutal punches, and didn't give Tsunade's offer a second thought five years ago.

And now, here I was, in a cramped, disorderly apartment. Alone and wandering with little money and a growling stomach at night. I had chosen to say yes to the temptations of Ino's friends and decided to pursue my studies at the University of California, all in the hopes of exploring a career in the world of television. Instead, I could have chosen to study at New York University, where I could have lived comfortably at the Whitney family home without facing hunger and without needing to pose provocatively in front of the camera.

I once dreamed of being a mighty journalist, a veritable Rachel Maddow of my generation. Alas, I ended up more like Betty White, flaunting my thighs to an unsuspecting legion of TV viewers. Life sure had a twisted sense of humor.

I found solace in my old habits and fell back into my self-destructive phase, drowning myself in whiskey and immersing myself in the melancholic tunes of Sad FM's easy listening for the better part of my twenties.

"Number of calls from boyfriend, zero," announced the automated voice on my voicemail.

Sasuke, you heartless bastard! How many times have you not called me or even bothered to answer my calls?

The grueling bar exam, the demanding journey to becoming a lawyer, consumed so much of his time that he seemed too busy to even think of me. Even a long-distance relationship turned into a torment, leaving me feeling like a solitary soul amidst the dazzling lights of Los Angeles.

Oh no, not again! Yet, I couldn't resist the urge to turn on the music and let "All by Myself" serenade my solitude, singing it with all my heart, albeit rather off-key, in front of the mirror, all while sporting messy hair and, I must confess, no pants.

"Thank you, Sasuke." I murmured sarcastically as I continued my out-of-tune serenade.

After indulging in my self-destructive moment for a while, I opened my closet and retrieved a long-nosed snowman-themed sweater. It was the same kind Sasuke had worn when we attended Miyoko's Turkey Curry Buffet on Christmas, precisely three years ago, just a week before our high school graduation.