Behind the Mask

Down the Hall

"Who's there?" my mother's voice carried from the kitchen, echoing across the living room.

"It's me," I called back, dropping my bag by the door with a heavy thud.

"Ami?" She peeked out, her eyes narrowing. "Why are you home so soon?"

"I wasn't feeling so well so my boss let me come home," I lied, forcing a smile and hoping she wouldn't dig deeper.

My mother stepped out, her features softening. "Oh no. You look pale. Come, sit."

I nodded, following her to the couch, my legs feeling like lead. As I sank into the cushions, I rested my head against the backrest. Rin had sent me home, and though I resented it at first, I knew I couldn't work after what had happened.

I was a senior reporter at one of Japan's most prestigious media companies. My name carried weight, a reputation I had meticulously built over the years. Now, people had twisted my relationship with Kenji into something sordid and unrecognizable.

I closed my eyes. My mother's gentle hand on my forehead pulled me back to reality. "Are you sick? Do you have a fever?"

I shook my head. "Just stressed, I think."

"I was supposed to go see Mrs. Matsuda, but I can cancel," she offered, her eyes filled with worry.

"No," I insisted. "Please don't. You don't have to worry. I'm fine. I came home to rest."

I needed solitude, a chance to process everything. Talking about it was the last thing I wanted.

She narrowed her eyes in concern. "Ami, why would you ask me not to worry? I will always worry about you."

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I pushed them back. "You're right. I'm sorry," I said, forcing another smile. "Go and visit your friend. I'll be okay. I just need a nap."

She patted my shoulder gently. "Okay, but I'll leave out some medicine and soup. Make sure you take them."

"Thanks, Mom," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

After she left, I grabbed my bag and made my way to the bathroom. The hot water cascaded over me, and for a fleeting moment, I wished it could wash away the shame and embarrassment. I stayed under the stream until my knees felt weak, then dried off and changed into my pajamas. Climbing into bed, I curled up into a ball. My phone vibrated persistently in my purse. I ignored it.

The media frenzy had turned my life into a spectacle. The tabloids were having a field day with my story. They questioned everything: why would Kenji Sato, a famous and wealthy baseball star, be involved with a single mom? Was my daughter actually his?

Those fucking bastards. I wanted to strangle every single one of them.

I sighed, feeling defeated.

I'd spent years working hard to build my career, and in the blink of an eye, everything seemed to have gone up in flames. I hadn't anticipated how people would react to my relationship with Kenji. In a sane world, I wouldn't have to, but the public had a way of twisting facts and shaming others without knowing the full story.

My phone rang again, and I groaned, finally fishing it out of my purse along with my glasses. It was Juri. She must have seen everything.

"Hi," I answered, putting it on speaker.

"Ami!" her voice echoed through the phone. "Finally, I've been calling and texting you for the last hour."

"Sorry, I've been in the shower."

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice filled with concern. "Scratch that. I know you're not okay. I saw everything online. I'm so sorry."

"I don't even know what to say," I muttered. "I just want it to stop."