Naruto stared at the apparition on his doormat, blinking once, twice, then a third time, as if the afterimage of pink hair might peel away to reveal something rational underneath. No such luck. Sakura Haruno was still there, framed by the flickering hallway bulb, clutching a purse with the desperation of someone who'd spent three blocks psyching herself up to knock.
He braced one hand on the door frame, the other curled behind his hip, knuckles blanching from a week's worth of anger and too much bad coffee. "Uh, yeah," he said. "Did Sasuke send you?" The words came out sharper than he intended, less a question than an accusation.
Sakura's smile flickered at the edges—more apology than greeting. "No. I mean, I texted him earlier, but—" She broke off, eyes darting to the hallway, then back to Naruto. "Can I come in? I don't want to do this in the hall."
Naruto stood aside, more on reflex than hospitality, and gestured her in. Sakura crossed the threshold with the care of a person entering a haunted house. She was smaller than he remembered from the elevator at Uchiha Corp, but her presence had a kind of internal mass, a density that bent the room's emotional gravity toward her. The pink hair was real and freshly cut, framing a face that was both too young and far too tired for her age.
Naruto's apartment was in its natural state of disaster: ramen bowls stacked on the counter, laundry folded but not put away, the air thick with the tang of energy drinks and the ozone bite of uncirculated air.
Sakura took it all in with a single sweep, then parked herself at the very edge of the sofa, perching like a bird ready to bolt. Naruto remained standing, arms crossed. He hadn't showered in a day and a half, and a part of him was perversely proud of that.
He cut to the chase. "So. What's this about?"
Sakura's fingers went to the strap of her purse, twisting it so tightly Naruto wondered if the leather would snap. "I'm really, really sorry to show up like this," she said, and the words came out in a rush, as if she'd rehearsed them all the way from downtown. "But after what happened at your parents'—and after Easter—I couldn't stop thinking about how none of this was your fault. Or his. Or even mine, really."
Naruto felt like he'd been punched. His throat went dry. "Easter?" The word came out strangled. "How do you know about Easter?" There was only one person who could have told her about that.
Sakura's flush crept up her neck as she avoided his question. "I know how it looks," she said, tucking a strand of pink hair behind her ear. "But I swear, the last thing I ever wanted was to hurt either of you."
Naruto's mind raced through possibilities—was she here to gloat? To apologize? To explain why she'd stolen Sasuke away? Nothing made sense. He wanted to believe her words were bullshit, but the way she said it—hunched, voice thin—suggested otherwise. He waited, arms crossed tighter against his chest, steeling himself for whatever bomb she was about to drop.
Sakura let the silence stretch. She dug a hand into her purse and produced a pack of tissues, then set it on the coffee table like it might explode. "I don't even know where to start," she said, voice trembling. "Maybe with… I guess, with the engagement?"
Naruto flinched, every muscle in his jaw locking into place. He didn't move, but his eyes went flat and hard. "Go ahead."
Sakura's lips quirked, but not in amusement. "It wasn't real," she said quietly. "It was never real. Not in the way you think."
Naruto's mind spat out every version of the story he'd told himself over the last three days: that Sasuke was a liar, that Sakura was some corporate siren luring him to his doom, that they'd been secretly laughing at him this whole time. "So what was it, then?" he asked. "Practice for the real thing?"
She flinched as if he'd raised a hand to her, shoulders hunching inward. "I—" Her voice caught. "Perhaps I deserve that. But no. It was my idea. I begged him to help me."
Naruto barked out a laugh, sharp and disbelieving. "Sasuke Uchiha? The guy who once made our principal cry over a detention slip?" He shook his head, the anger momentarily displaced by genuine confusion. "You expect me to believe he just... what? Let you push him around?"
Sakura nodded, her eyes fixed on her lap. "You could call it that." Something in her voice—a raw, unvarnished quality he'd never heard before—made Naruto's throat tighten. This was someone speaking a truth they'd rather keep buried.
His legs went out from under him. He dropped onto the armchair opposite, the anger in his chest collapsing like a house of cards. "Why?" The word came out softer than he'd intended, half-bark dissolving into plea.
Sakura's hands, pale and unsteady, knotted around each other. "My father," she started, then stopped, swallowing hard. "I overheard him on the phone with some business partners. He was negotiating my marriage to their son like I was a merger acquisition." Her knuckles whitened. "I'd just gotten my med school acceptance letter that morning. When I confronted him, he didn't even deny it."
She glanced up, meeting Naruto's stare. "Sasuke and I connected sophomore year of college. We both got wasted at this dive bar near campus—him drowning sorrows about some best friend that he hurt, me crying over my ex. That's when I found out he was gay." A bitter smile crossed her face. "So when my father dropped his marriage bomb, I... I threatened Sasuke. Said I'd tell everyone if he didn't play along."
Naruto's fists clenched. "You blackmailed him?" His voice rose sharply, protective rage flaring. The thought of Sasuke—proud, stubborn Sasuke—backed into a corner made his stomach twist. But beneath the anger, something else stirred as he took in Sakura's hunched shoulders, the dark circles under her eyes.
"Not my proudest moment," she whispered, fingers trembling against her purse. "But I was terrified. You don't know what my father—" She swallowed hard. "The engagement bought me time until my residency ends."
Naruto's jaw worked back and forth. "So the Uchiha wedding was just leverage for med school?"
Sakura laughed—a short, brittle thing. "If you want to call years of panic attacks and hiding who you are a 'leverage,' sure."
The edges of Naruto's anger started to crumble. He pictured her, younger, hair even brighter, trapped in a family that measured worth in units of obedience and marriage prospects. "Why him?" he asked, the question softer now. "Why Sasuke?"
A flush crept up Sakura's cheeks. "Because he couldn't betray me. The Uchiha name was perfect—prestigious enough to keep my father from arranging any more marriages. Rich enough to justify a long engagement." Her fingers twisted together in her lap. "My father wouldn't dare rush things with an Uchiha. It bought me time—years, not months."
Naruto sat back, eyes tracing the gouges in his coffee table. "I don't know what to do with this," he muttered.
Sakura leaned forward, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles whitened. "Forgive him," she whispered, then cleared her throat and said it again, stronger. "Forgive Sasuke."
The hum of the fridge filled the silence between them. A car horn blared outside, then faded. Naruto's jaw worked back and forth.
"He never stopped loving you," Sakura continued, voice steady now despite the slight tremble in her shoulders. "Not in college, not during our fake engagement. Not ever." She met his eyes directly. "Don't throw that away because of my mess."
Naruto leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "So what happens from here, then? I just forgive Sasuke and your fake engagement continues? You two keep playing house while he and I—what—sneak around?"
Sakura shook her head, tucking hair behind her ear with a steady hand. "I'm in my last year of residency. Three more months." Her voice dropped, taking on a conspiratorial edge. "Ino and I already signed a lease in Seattle. Far enough that my father's connections can't touch us." She met his eyes. "The engagement ends the day I finish. That was always the deal."
Naruto's eyebrows shot up. "You have a girlfriend?" He couldn't keep the disbelief out of his voice.
Sakura's lips twisted into something more like a real smile. "Ino. She's been my person since college. But if my dad found out, he'd pull the hospital strings and get me blacklisted from every program in the state." She held up a hand, as if to ward off judgment. "I know it sounds dramatic. But he's done it before. To a cousin."
Naruto's shoulders slumped. The story was too sad, too stupid, too true not to believe. He let out a breath that had been bottled up for months.
Sakura stood, bag dangling from her shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said again, and this time it sounded like she meant it for both of them.
Naruto nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He watched as Sakura navigated the apartment with care, side-stepping empty boxes and old shoes, then paused at the door.
"I really hope you don't hate him," she said, voice soft. "He's trying to do the right thing, even if he's going about it all wrong."
Naruto opened his mouth, but the words stuck. He didn't hate Sasuke, not even a little. He hated the world that made it impossible for two idiots to love each other without someone getting crushed.
Sakura's hand hovered on the knob, waiting for permission to leave. "You want my number?" she asked. "In case you have more questions. Or want to know the best takeout in town."
Naruto managed a smile. "Yeah. That'd be good."
She tapped it into his phone—hands steady now—then disappeared into the hallway, leaving behind a silence so deep it rang in his ears.
Naruto stared at the shut door for a full twenty seconds before moving, as if expecting Sakura to pop back in and say, "Just kidding, none of that was true." When she didn't, when the footsteps faded down the hallway, he let himself sink back into the armchair, elbows on knees, face buried in his hands.
A part of him wanted to call Sasuke right then, to demand a full account, every ugly detail. But the other part—the louder, meaner part—wanted to curl into a ball and ignore the universe for another week. Instead, he just stared at the blank wall in front of him, wondering how many other lives were running secret scripts behind polite faces.
His phone buzzed again. A text from Sasuke:
[I don't know how to fix this. But I'll wait as long as it takes.]
Naruto looked at the screen, then at the photo on the coffee table, now upright and dusted off.
He didn't reply, not yet. But he didn't turn the phone over, either.
Maybe, he thought, there was a way out of this mess after all.