Borusara- Archives

My Darling, My Muse( Ch II)

Summary : Never Sarada saw herself  falling in love...

But now here she was, loving a man  who neither had a face - nor a name

Song: Homage ( by Mild High Club)

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The flash flickered.
The screams ranged.
The paparazzi hollered

" Miss Sarada, Miss Sarada! Tell us what exactly is your relationship with your co-star, Yamato Kagura?"

"Are you having an affair?"

"What is your relationship status? are you single? or..."

Amidst the crazy mob, the person of attraction, somehow made her way towards her black car- all thanks to her guards who were busy tackling the frantics around her. As soon as she entered the backseat, she heard the door being slammed shut behind her, making the sounds and screams around her halt completely. Like she entered a vacuum. But she didn't complain; that sudden silence was welcomed.

The car drove away from all the raging commotion, the silence prevailed inside her black ride. But she wasn't in peace; she was a tangled mess. Her heart beating outside her ribs, she just found herself lying on the velvet black seat, almost curled up like a ball. Her eyes watered. She let out a sob.
" Here take this" the driver kept a handkerchief in front of her. "And there are some roses and chocolates for you in the back of the car"

"And?" a small mumble left her lips.

"And a letter" The man's voice was passive and meek - but kind of comforting too. Sarada looked in the rear view mirror. She took the handkerchief to wipe her tears.

"Thank you, Mr. Nohara" The ravenette was genuinely grateful." And tell Mr. Uzumaki I will give back his handkerchief, all squeaky clean"

The man said nothing. But Sarada saw him giving a knowing smile.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence and little sobs.  Till the car halted in the back alley that led to her secret abode.

"We are here, Miss Sarada"
The ravenette somehow picked herself up from the seat and stared in front of her.

" Mr. Nohara?"

" Hmm..."

" Kindly tell Mr. Uzumaki that there is nothing between me and Mr. Yamato- and no other man or woman for that matter"
              
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On the same evening, it had started to rain.
Sarada looked outside through the glass wall of her penthouse- catching a glimpse of the faint, subtle reflection of her own. She was wrapped in her fluffy white blanket, with a letter in hand. Her dark eyes still stringed with salty tears. She closed them as she remembered the words that adorned the letter.

" I know the truth. Don't let these baseless rumours bring you down. Just lay low and calm down" the letter read. It all was written in a messy cursive.

Sarada smiled as she read the letter again. She settled herself down whilst rubbing the  inked penmanship - that felt too familiar for its own good. Like she had known it before somehow. The paper smelled like cinnamon and vanilla; a faint natural scent. His scent . A smile crept on her face. She closed her paining eyes.

How did she end up like this?
                      ************

Sarada was from something people loved to term as "dysfunctional family"-  although she wouldn't consider her unit as a family. Father unknown- she lived in a worn down flat with her absent mother, who loved her booze and one night admirers more than anything. In short, she had been on her own all her life. As fate would have it, one day her mother abandoned her and the apartment too- to never return back. She didn't care. She was 17. Had to abandon her dream to  become a historian due to financial strains- worked odd jobs to make a simple living. That was the time around she was approached for a small billboard advertisement shooting. Nothing too fancy. But it offered quick money- so she did it.