misanahrs

[misanahrs]

when you let her go — minatozaki sana.

now playing: let her go - passenger.

synopsis - years after you disappeared from her life, sana sees you again at a wedding. part 2 of ‘only know you love her.’

pairing - minatozaki sana x fem reader.

sana couldn’t breathe. her pulse was racing, thumping in her ears as she stood next to her husband, hands trembling in his. the grand hall was filled with the soft hum of whispered conversations and the clinking of champagne glasses, but none of that reached her. it was as if the world had come to a sudden, deafening halt.

she’d been invited to many weddings before. her own friends, family, and distant acquaintances, but this… this one felt different. her husband had insisted they attend, mentioning that he had a duty to be present at his boss’ wedding. it didn’t matter much to sana.

guests began to take their seats a couple short moments later but sana was too preoccupied with distracting herself from her own unusualness, crossing her legs together and then pressing them into each other.

the room quietened and sana looked up as the orchestra on the side took their positions and begin to play a cover of ‘sequence (three)’ by peter gregson.

the orchestra played for just over a minute until the beat kicked in and the doors to the venue opened.

sana’s gaze immediately found the same face that appeared in her dreams, that she yearned to see for a passing second— because seeing you for more than that would cause sana to lose her mind. thoughts of you consumed her. all of her. because it was you, somehow, it was always you. the pure torment of her soul yet the raw craving of her heart. it was always you.

and her heart stopped. and her stomach tightened. and her world stopped. everything came to a halt. her breath hitched. her stomach twisted with a mix of fear, confusion, and something else she couldn’t quite place. four years. four years since she last saw you. four years since you walked away, since you were gone, and she never even got the chance to say goodbye.

but now, here you were. the same you she once loved, only now, you were standing at the entrance to the venue, ready to give yourself to someone else. to someone who wasn’t her.

the music picked up and you began to walk down the isle by yourself, smiling to the people your gaze landed on as you looked around the room.

the entire orchestra came to a halt, except for one—who played and played for what felt like forever to sana—before you turned around at the altar and quickly glanced through the hall, your gaze briefly meeting everyone’s for a fleeting second but holding no recognition for about half of the small amount of people in the room. sana liked to believe she was apart of that half but your gaze didn’t even land remotely near to her.

the arrow on the clock seemed to pass so slowly that sana had thought that it hadn’t moved at all.

but the orchestra began to play another song. one she recognised as the wedding march—one she had heard right before she walked down the aisle accompanied by her father—before slowly moving into a cover of ‘give me everything’ by pitbull as the ceiling-tall doors were opened, revealing—what sana thought might just be—the most gracious, elegant, feminine lady to ever exist, clad in an equally beautiful gown, fabric draped in a distinct way to highlight her slender figure at the front, whilst the same fabric pooled at the back, dragging as the unfamiliar woman began to move down the aisle, holding a small bouquet of baby’s-breath in one hand whilst the other rests on her fathers arm, interwoven with her own as the orchestra picks up.

sana looked at her husband, but he was oblivious, smiling politely at the sight of his boss walking down the aisle. he didn’t notice the way sana’s hand loosened in his, or the tears welling in her eyes, blurring her vision.

sana’s mind raced, replaying fragments of memories. you. her first love. the one she had thought would always be hers. but life had taken both of you in different directions. she had married her husband, and you… you had moved on.

it was only after her husband shifted in the seat next to her did she return to her wits and make sense of the situation. she never even realised she’d missed the invitation to your wedding. she never thought it would be you. she never thought she’d see you standing at the altar, about to marry someone. she never thought she’d see you standing at the altar about to marry someone who wasn’t her.

a strange wave of panic surged through her as she glanced at the woman beside you—your pretty-soon-to-be-wife. she looked radiant, exquisite, glowing with an emotion that sana used to know all too well.

the officiant’s voice cut through her thoughts, but it was only a dull sound against the roaring in her chest.

“do you, reader, take myoui mina to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

sana’s vision blurred as she watched you agree, the smile on your face so genuine, so full of love. the love she once thought was hers. the one she once thought was just for her.

her heart cracked, a slow, agonising pain spreading through her. she had moved on. she had made a life with her husband, but here she was, standing in front of the woman who had once been her world. and now, that world was someone else’s.

when it was time for the vows, sana could hardly bear to listen, yet she physically couldn’t look away. your voice broke as you spoke the words, the emotion so raw, so pure, it sent a shiver down her spine. she squeezed her husband’s hand, trying to remind herself that this was her life now. this was the path she had chosen. and yet, she couldn’t stop feeling the absence of something she once had.

you.

and then came the ring exchange. sana’s eyes dropped to the medium sized diamond on her own finger. the ring she had that kept her promised to her husband. the ring that was supposed to mean forever. but in that moment, it felt hollow. empty.

tears welled in her eyes as she watched you slide the ring onto your wife’s finger, the quiet joy on your face almost unbearable. the officiant’s words rang in her ears, but all she could hear was the rush of blood in her veins, the way her heart was beating painfully in her chest.

you kissed her wife gently; a deep, passionate kiss. and sana felt like she was suffocating. she wanted to look away, to escape, but she couldn’t. the sight of you so happy, so in love, tore through her.

as you pulled away, smiling at your wife with more love than sana could even imagine, the knot in sana’s stomach tightened further. her own breath was shallow, her chest tight. she wished it was her standing there. she wished she had been the one to make those vows to you, to slide that ring onto your finger.

but that was never meant to be.

the officiant announced you as wife and wife, and the room erupted in applause, but to sana, it all felt like a distant hum. she didn’t know how she was still standing. she didn’t know how she was breathing.

she glanced at her husband, who was beaming with happiness at seeing his boss marry someone he used to go to school with, completely unaware of the storm that was raging inside her. the sadness, the loss, the regret.

cinderella’s ‘so this is love’ is the song that he orchestrated played as she watched as you walked down the aisle with your new wife, hand in hand. and for a split second, you looked straight at her. sana’s breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering in her chest. but it wasn’t a glance of recognition. you didn’t know her anymore. the years had erased everything.

and then you were gone, lost in the sea of people, and sana was left standing there, her heart breaking, a feeling of incompleteness settling over her like a heavy fog.

[misanahrs]

only know you love her — minatozaki sana.

now playing: let her go - passenger.

synopsis - a poignant story of unspoken love, this fic follows your quiet feelings for sana, who falls in love with someone else. as time passes, you both grow apart, and sana moves on with her life, unaware of the pain you silently carry, but as the distance between you and sana increases, she feels more and more incomplete.

pairing - minatozaki sana x fem reader.

you remember a time when the world was simple, when every day was filled with endless possibility and the horizon held nothing but hope. in those early years, you and sana were inseparable—two souls bound by shared secrets, laughter echoing in narrow streets, and dreams spun from the magic of childhood. you would spend long afternoons chasing one another through sunlit fields, collecting little treasures from nature, and whispering promises of forever. it was a time when the only language you both needed was the one spoken by your hearts, unburdened by the complexities of later life.

every morning, as you both walked to school hand in hand, the world seemed to pause in admiration of your pure friendship. sana’s smile was a beacon, warm and radiant, and her eyes sparkled with the mischief of a girl who believed in endless possibility. you never imagined that this bond, forged in the innocence of youth, would one day become the crucible for emotions far deeper than you could have ever expected. every shared secret, every laughter-filled moment, etched itself into your soul, a constant reminder that some connections are simply meant to endure.

even then, there was something ineffable about sana—a quiet strength, a gentle understanding that made you feel seen in a way no one else ever could. in those days, you often lay on the soft grass under a sky dappled with clouds, talking about everything and nothing all at once. you dreamed together of the future, blissfully unaware of how the gentle murmur of your friendship would eventually give way to a storm of unspoken longing and inevitable heartache.

⸻

as you stepped into high school, the air itself seemed to change—crisp with the scent of autumn and the subtle promise of transformation. it was during these years that you began to notice something startling: the way your heart skipped a beat when sana laughed, the way your thoughts would drift to her long after she had walked away. the realisation crept in slowly, like a secret revealed in a hushed tone, that what you felt for sana was no longer just friendship.

each day, you watched her with an intensity that both thrilled and terrified you. there was an unspoken beauty in her every gesture—a tilt of her head as she listened intently in class, a gentle sigh when she thought no one was watching. it was in these moments that you recognised the dangerous allure of something more. you began to wonder if sana ever looked at you the same way, if her bright eyes ever held a spark meant just for you.

but fate, it seemed, had other plans. soon after this painful self-discovery, you noticed sana growing closer to him—a loud yet diligent boy from your year. the first time you saw them together, standing side by side beneath the ancient oak in the school courtyard, you felt your heart shatter quietly, piece by piece. sana’s laughter mingled with his gentle smile, and for a brief, shattering moment, you were forced to confront the reality that her heart had chosen a path that did not her lead to you.

every time you saw them, a bitter pang of jealousy would twist inside you. you would watch from a distance as sana leaned in, her hand brushing lightly against his, and you wondered why the person you cherished most in the world could never see you as more than just a friend. you tried to convince yourself that you were happy for her, that love was not a finite resource and that sana deserved every bit of happiness, even if it came with someone else’s name attached. yet, beneath the veneer of acceptance, the raw ache of rejection simmered, each smile of theirs a painful reminder of the unspoken words locked deep within your heart.

late at night, as you lay in bed listening to the hum of distant traffic, you would replay every moment, every gesture, and every sigh, desperately searching for a sign—a hidden message in sana’s eyes that might hint at a shared secret. but the truth remained elusive, a phantom that danced just beyond your reach. in those quiet moments, you realised that the girl you had loved in silence was slipping away, becoming entwined in a love that you could never share.

⸻

the inevitable arrival of university brought a new chapter in your intertwined lives, a time of intellectual exploration and emotional turbulence. the transition from high school was not gentle—it was a whirlpool of new experiences, shifting priorities, and the relentless pursuit of independence. for sana, it seemed, every new day was an opportunity to grow closer to him, while for you, every lecture hall and library session was a bittersweet reminder of a love left unfulfilled.

you found yourself enrolled in the same course as him, forced into proximity with the very person who symbolised the love you had never dared to claim. the lecture theatres, once sanctuaries of learning, now felt like arenas of torment. as you sat in rows filled with murmurs of academic ambition, you couldn’t help but feel that every glance shared between sana and him was a deliberate confirmation of your own inadequacy. the textbooks and notes blurred before your eyes as you fought a daily battle with the emotions you had long kept buried.

there were days when you would wander the campus alone, lost in thought and surrounded by the silent testimonies of a past that refused to fade away. you found solace in the quiet corners of the library, where the gentle rustle of pages and the soft hum of distant voices offered a temporary escape from the relentless tide of memories. but even there, the weight of your unspoken love pressed down on you, an ever-present reminder of the chasm that now divided you and sana.

in the midst of this emotional storm, an unexpected friendship began to blossom—one that would slowly alter the course of your life. her name was momo, a bright, vivacious girl whose energy was as infectious as it was healing. you met momo during a late-night study session in the campus cafe, where the glow of fairy lights and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee created an ambience of intimate camaraderie. at first, it was simply a matter of convenience—a distraction from the pain, a way to fill the empty spaces left by unreciprocated affection. but as the days turned to weeks, you found yourself drawn to her in ways that surprised you.

momo was everything that you never realised you needed—a confidante, a burst of laughter on a dreary day, a reminder that life could still hold moments of genuine happiness with just friendship. with momo, you began to experience a liberation you had never known; the oppressive weight of your longing started to ease, replaced by a tentative hope that perhaps the future held a different kind of love. as you spent long hours talking about dreams and fears, you found that momo’s friendship was like a soft salve on your wounded heart. her laughter, unguarded and free, was a balm that made the pain of your past seem a little less raw.

yet, with every step away from the familiar embrace of sana and him, you felt a stirring of guilt—a deep, unrelenting sorrow for the bonds you were beginning to let slip away. the trio that had once been a constellation of shared memories was now fracturing under the weight of change. you began to skip study sessions with sana, choosing instead the warmth of momo’s company and the newfound freedom that came with not having to be the perpetual third wheel. the decision was not made in haste; it was the slow, painful process of realising that sometimes, in order to find yourself, you have to let go of the parts of your past that no longer serve you.

one brisk autumn afternoon, as you sat together in a quiet lecture hall, a classmate’s teasing remark sliced through the fragile silence: “looks like someone’s got herself a new flame.” the words, lighthearted to everyone else, landed on you like shards of broken glass. you forced a laugh, but the echo of that laughter was hollow. across the room, you caught a glimpse of sana’s eyes—wide with unspoken hurt, her stomach visibly tightening as the comment made its way to her. it was in that moment you realised that the change in you was more than just a shift in friendships; it was a subtle, yet irrevocable fracture in the foundation of the bond you had once shared.

later that day, in a quiet corridor away from the prying eyes of your peers, sana confronted you. her voice trembled, laden with a mixture of confusion and pain. “you’ve been distancing yourself from us, you’ve been avoiding me,” she said, her words barely above a whisper as if fearing the sound might shatter what little remained of your connection. “why?” she asked, eyes searching yours for an answer that you couldn’t give. in that moment, the full weight of your choices bore down on you, leaving you speechless, caught between the desire to explain and the overwhelming fear of losing her entirely.

all you could offer was a halting, “i just… i don’t always want to be the third wheel.” the words, though meant to reassure, only deepened the gulf between you. sana’s eyes flickered with something unidentifiable—a mixture of sorrow, hurt, and perhaps a trace of understanding—but the silence that followed was heavy with what could not be spoken.

⸻

the days that followed the confrontation were a blur of memories and emotions—a collage of moments both beautiful and heartbreaking. sana returned to her routine with a practiced smile, but every so often, in the quiet hours of the night, she would find herself revisiting that window that overlooked the bench you and momo seemed a little too comfortable at in her mind. the image of your absence haunted her, a silent testament to the cost of unspoken love.

one chilly evening, as the autumn leaves danced in a melancholy waltz outside her window, sana, once again, found the courage to confront the turmoil that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. she reached out to you, her hands trembling as she dialled your number, unsure if the call would bridge the gap that had grown between you or only serve to deepen the divide.

“hello?” your voice was soft, cautious, as if it too had weathered years of unspoken pain.

“hi,” sana began, her tone wavering ever so slightly. “i’ve been looking for you.”

there was a long silence on the other end—a silence filled with memories of shared laughter and the unspoken language of a friendship that had once been unbreakable. finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’m sorry, sana. i… i didn’t mean to distance myself so much.”

“i know,” she replied, her words laced with a sorrow that defied explanation. “but i can’t help but feel that every time you slip away, a part of me fades too.”

the conversation lingered, each word a tentative step on the fragile tightrope of reconciliation. sana poured out the emotions she had kept locked away for so long���regret, longing, and the deep, gnawing pain of a love that had never been fully realised. you listened, your heart aching with every word, knowing that the bond you once shared was now strained by the choices you had both made.

“i wish things could be different,” you admitted, your voice raw and unfiltered. “i wish i could turn back time and fix everything, but i know that’s not how life works.”

“i don’t want to fix things,” sana replied softly. “i just want to understand why… why it feels like every time you’re with someone else, a piece of me dies. i can’t explain it, but it hurts, and i miss you.”

the confession hung in the air, heavy and irrevocable. in that moment, both of you knew that the path ahead was uncertain—fraught with the potential for healing, but also with the risk of further heartache. yet, beneath the surface of that vulnerability lay a glimmer of hope—a hope that maybe, someday, the wounds of the past could begin to mend.

⸻

as the seasons changed and the campus once again filled with the buzz of new beginnings, you found yourself increasingly drawn into a life that was distinctly different from the one you had known with sana. your bond with momo deepened with each passing day, and her laughter became a refuge from the persistent ache that had once defined your existence. with momo by your side, you discovered a kind of freedom—a liberation from the constant, painful reminder of what might have been.

yet, despite the warmth and joy that momo brought into your life, there were moments when the ghost of your past crept in. in the quiet solitude of your room, when the night was at its darkest, you would find yourself haunted by the memories of the girl who had once been your everything. there were times when you wondered if you were simply trading one form of emptiness for another, if the new love you felt for momo could ever truly fill the void that sana’s absence had carved into your heart.

the campus was abuzz with laughter, late-night study sessions, and the quiet hum of dreams in the making. you would often walk the familiar paths between lecture halls, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts and regrets. sometimes, as you passed by a group of friends reminiscing about old times, you could almost hear the echoes of a past that was both beautiful and painfully elusive.

one rainy afternoon, as you and momo sought shelter in a tiny, cosy bookshop, you found yourself confiding in her about the complex tapestry of emotions that defined your life. “i sometimes feel like i’m caught between two worlds,” you admitted, your voice trembling with the weight of your confession. “on one side, there’s this unspoken love that i’ve carried for so long, and on the other, there’s the life i’m trying to build—one that feels real, but still seems to be missing something.”

momo listened intently, her eyes soft with understanding. “i know it hurts,” she said gently, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “but maybe, in time, you’ll learn that every part of you deserves to be whole. sometimes, the love we think we need isn’t the love we’re meant to have forever.”

her words, though comforting, did little to dispel the bittersweet melancholy that clung to your every thought. deep down, you knew that the choices you had made—the gradual drifting away from sana, the slow embrace of a new love—had left scars that might never fully heal. yet, you also understood that life was a series of moments, each one teaching you a lesson about loss, love, and the impermanence of happiness.

⸻

the years passed in a blur of lectures, late-night coffees, and the occasional stolen moment of introspection. despite the steady rhythm of daily life, there were nights when you lay awake, haunted by the memory of a simpler time—a time when sana’s laughter was the only sound that mattered, when every shared secret felt like an eternal promise.

one such night, after a particularly long day filled with the pressures of university life, you found yourself wandering the quiet, empty streets. the cool night air was laced with the scent of rain and distant memories, and every step you took seemed to echo the unspoken questions that had long plagued your heart. as you walked, you recalled the countless times you had looked into sana’s eyes, searching for something that you now understood was lost forever.

the pain was raw and unyielding—a constant reminder that the past, no matter how beautiful, was a territory that could never be reclaimed. you thought of the times when you had sat together in silent understanding, of the dreams you had shared under a sky painted with endless stars. those moments, so full of hope and promise, now felt like fragments of a life that belonged to someone else.

in the solitude of the night, you allowed yourself to grieve for what had been lost. each memory was a bittersweet melody that played over and over in your mind, a reminder that sometimes, the heart must break in order to learn how to love again. the ache of longing was a constant companion, a ghost that lingered in every quiet corner of your soul, refusing to be exorcised by time or by the warmth of a new embrace.

yet, even as the pain threatened to overwhelm you, there was a strange comfort in knowing that the love you had once held was real—raw, unfiltered, and achingly beautiful in its imperfection. it was a love that had shaped you, that had taught you the depth of your own capacity for feeling, and that, despite the scars it left behind, would always be a part of who you were.

⸻

time, as it is one to do, marched on relentlessly, carrying you all to a future you had never imagined. after years of academic pursuits, quiet heartbreaks, and tentative new beginnings, sana and hiss relationship blossomed into something that seemed, at least on the surface, unbreakable. despite the steady rhythm of daily life, there were nights when you lay awake, haunted by the memory of a simpler time—a time when sana’s laughter was the only sound that mattered, when every shared secret felt like an eternal promise. the world around you transformed as the years passed, and soon, the day arrived when sana was to be wed to him. the invitation to the wedding arrived in an envelope that carried with it a myriad of emotions—a bittersweet reminder of a past that was both cherished and painful.

the invitation had arrived like a distant echo of the past, stirring memories that you had tried so hard to bury beneath the weight of time and new beginnings. though you had moved on in many ways, the bond you once shared with sana remained an indelible mark on your soul.

the wedding day was a study in contrasts—beauty and sorrow intermingled in every moment. the venue, a grand old manor with walls steeped in history, was adorned with delicate blooms and soft, flickering candlelight. the air was heavy with the scent of roses and the murmurs of anticipation, a setting that could have belonged to a fairytale if not for the bittersweet undertones that lay just beneath the surface.

as you arrived at the venue, your heart pounded in your chest—a familiar mixture of excitement and dread. you had been chosen to be the maid of honour, a role that demanded you stand by sana’s side as she embarked on this new chapter, even as your own heart ached with the knowledge of what could never be. you moved through the bustling crowd, your eyes searching for a glimpse of sana, hoping for a moment of connection amid the sea of unfamiliar faces.

the moment finally came as the ceremony was about to begin. sana appeared at the entrance, escorted by her father, looking every bit the radiant bride. her dress, a flowing masterpiece of lace and chiffon, shimmered softly in the gentle light. as she took her first step into the venue, time seemed to slow. in that fleeting, suspended second, you noticed her gaze darting across the room—searching for you. it was a look that held a thousand unspoken words, a silent acknowledgement of the past that still bound you together.

you watched, transfixed, as sana paused for the briefest moment before turning to meet his expectant smile. that split second, when her eyes flickered with a longing that she quickly masked with a graceful smile, was enough to send a tremor through your heart. you felt every unspoken apology, every lost moment, and every regret pulse through your veins as you stood there in the wings of her grand new beginning.

the ceremony itself was a gentle procession of vows and promises, each word delivered with a measured grace that belied the inner turmoil of the day. sana and him exchanged rings beneath a floral arch, their voices soft and earnest as they pledged their futures to one another. the gentle cadence of their words, the soft rustle of fabric, and the hushed whispers of the gathered guests created an atmosphere that was both intimate and surreal.

as the ceremony concluded, you were ushered into the role of maid of honour, a responsibility that felt both like a privilege and a painful reminder of the distance that had grown between you and sana. you offered her a smile as you handed over a bouquet of delicate blooms—a gesture that, while filled with affection, also carried the weight of all that had been lost. inside, your heart was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions: joy for the happiness she had found, and sorrow for the love that had once been, but could never be again.

⸻

the reception that followed was a celebration of life, love, and the intricate tapestry of memories that had brought everyone to that moment. the grand hall was aglow with soft, shimmering lights, and the air was filled with the soft murmur of conversation and laughter. tables were adorned with flickering candles and delicate centrepieces, each element meticulously arranged to create an ambience of refined elegance.

you took your place among the closest of friends, the role of maid of honour now a mantle you bore with quiet grace. as the night progressed, the speeches and toasts began—a series of heartfelt words that encapsulated the beauty and complexity of the journey that had led to this day. when it came time for you to speak, you stepped forward with a deep, steady breath, determined to capture the essence of your shared past.

“i have known sana for as long as i can remember,” you began, your voice soft but resonant in the hushed silence of the hall. “we grew up together, our hearts intertwined in ways that defied explanation. she has been my guide, my confidante, and my reminder that even in the darkest of times, there is a light that never truly fades.” your words spilled forth like a gentle confession, each syllable imbued with the raw emotion of years spent in silent longing.

as you spoke, your gaze swept across the room, landing on sana. in that instant, you saw something flicker in her eyes—a mingling of joy, sorrow, and something else, something that made your heart twist painfully in your chest. you continued, each word laden with memories of shared laughter and unspoken dreams. “sana, your strength and beauty have always inspired me. today, as you begin a new chapter, i want you to know that even if our paths have diverge, the love i have for you will remain a part of who i am.”

the hall fell silent as you finished your toast, the only sound the soft rustling of fabric and the distant clink of glasses being set down. for a fleeting moment, you felt as though time itself had slowed, every heartbeat echoing the deep, unspoken connection that bound you to sana. and yet, as the best man rose to deliver his own speech, an overwhelming wave of emotion swept over you—a need to vanish into the shadows, to escape the bittersweet reminder of what had been.

quietly, almost imperceptibly, you slipped away from the gathering. without a word, you melted into the darkness of the night, leaving behind a room filled with laughter and light. no one noticed your departure; in the midst of celebration, your absence was a silent testament to the enduring ache of a love that could never be spoken.

⸻

it was only later, after the revelry had subsided and the guests had slowly begun to drift away, that sana realised you were missing. as the night grew colder, she found herself wandering the corridors of the venue, her mind a turbulent sea of worry and regret. she retraced the steps of the day, searching for any sign of you—any hint that you might be nearby, that you had not truly left.

her search led her to the parking lot—a place that now seemed to embody the emptiness in her heart. beneath the harsh glare of a single streetlamp, she stood motionless, her eyes scanning the rows of vehicles until they rested on one glaring absence: your car was gone. in that moment, the reality of your departure crashed over her with the force of a tidal wave. the empty space where your car had been was not merely a void in the physical world—it was a gaping wound in her soul, a silent admission that something precious had been lost.

tears welled in sana’s eyes as she stepped closer to the vacant spot, her mind flooded with memories of laughter shared, secrets confided, and the tender moments that had once defined your bond. the cold air bit at her skin, but it was nothing compared to the chill that had settled in her heart. “where are you?” she whispered to the night, her voice trembling with a mixture of longing and despair.

in that quiet, desolate moment, every sound seemed amplified—the distant hum of a car engine, the rustling of leaves in the wind, and the soft, unyielding beat of her own heart. sana stood there, vulnerable and exposed, feeling the weight of a thousand unsaid words pressing down on her chest. the emptiness was complete, an echo of a love that had slowly withered under the strain of unspoken truths.

as the night wore on, the chill of the parking lot gave way to a subtle warmth—a small, yet determined voice that urged sana to return to the world of the living. just as she was about to turn back, a gentle hand rested on her shoulder. turning slowly, she was met by his concerned eyes, his voice a soft murmur in the darkness: “everyone’s waiting for us.”

his words, though meant to be comforting, resonated with a hollow finality. sana forced a smile, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill over. she nodded, allowing herself to be led back into the venue, the vibrant lights and echoing laughter a stark contrast to the loneliness of the parking lot. as she rejoined the gathering, she clutched his hand tightly, the touch both reassuring and painfully reminding her of the bond they now shared—a bond that, however strong, could never fully replace the unspoken history between you.

inside, sana’s heart was a battlefield of conflicting emotions. every beat was a reminder of what she had lost, and every forced smile was a mask that concealed the depth of her sorrow. as she navigated the celebration with a practiced grace, she could not help but feel incomplete—a hollow space where your presence had once been. the memory of your departure, the sight of your empty parking spot, and the echo of your final farewell all converged to create an ache that was as persistent as it was unyielding.

the night continued, and as the final notes of the evening’s music faded into silence, sana’s thoughts remained consumed by the ghost of a love that had never truly died. yet, when his hand tightened around hers and his gentle words offered a semblance of comfort, she knew that life would march on—even if the past would forever haunt her. in that delicate moment of farewell, sana allowed herself a single, fleeting smile—a smile that belied the storm raging within her, a smile that spoke of resilience in the face of irrevocable loss.

⸻

in the quiet aftermath of that fateful day, life settled into a rhythm that was as beautiful as it was bittersweet. sana and him built a life together, a life filled with shared dreams and quiet moments of contentment. the wedding had been a celebration of love, but for sana, it had also been a reminder of the pieces of her heart that had been left behind slipped through her fingers like sand. every now and then, in the soft glow of a quiet evening or the gentle hum of a familiar song, she would feel a familiar ache—a longing for the past, for the friendship that had once defined her world.

you, too, carried the weight of those memories as you forged your own path in the aftermath of lost love. with momo’s friendship, you learned to navigate the complexities of your heart, even as the spectre of what once was lingered like a shadow. the choice to move on had not been easy, and the scars it left behind were a permanent reminder of a love that had burned so brightly, only to be extinguished by circumstance.

in the end, the journey of love and loss is one that leaves us forever changed. the echoes of shared laughter, whispered secrets, and unspoken goodbyes remain with us, woven into the very fabric of who we are. though the pain may never fully fade, it is in that pain that we learn the true depth of our capacity to love—and in loving, we find the courage to continue, even when the heart feels irreparably broken.

you realise you are left with the haunting truth that sometimes, the most profound connections are those that never had the chance to fully bloom. the unspoken love, the silent longing, yearning, and the bittersweet memories are a testament to a lifetime of dreams, a lifetime of moments that will forever echo in the quiet corners of your soul.

⸻

part 2 anyone?

[misanahrs]

all this just to be with you — minatozaki sana

now playing: good news - bakar.

synopsis - sana is running late to practice and crashes into the back of your car. as soon as she steps out and sees you—an effortlessly gorgeous doctor—she forgets all about the accident and immediately tries to flirt her way into your heart.

pairing - minatozaki sana x fem reader.

step one: crash landing on your car.

it was just supposed to be another normal, busy morning.

you were driving to work, sipping the last of your coffee as you hummed along to the radio, already mentally preparing yourself for the long shift ahead at the hospital. everything was perfectly fine—until it wasn’t.

out of nowhere, a loud thud jolted your entire car forward. your coffee cup went flying, landing unceremoniously on your lap, and you slammed the brakes with a sharp inhale.

your heart pounded as you registered what had just happened. someone had crashed into you.

sighing, you put your car in park, unbuckled your seatbelt, and stepped out. the moment you turned around, ready to assess the damage, you came face-to-face with a woman stepping out of the offending car—a woman who, to your annoyance, was ridiculously pretty.

she was looking at you with wide, guilty eyes, her hands nervously gripping the straps of her designer handbag.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry!” she blurted out, bowing slightly. “i was running late and—okay, i wasn’t paying attention, but in my defence, the traffic light was so slow, and i got distracted because—well, you know, life!”

you crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow at her. “so, you rear-ended me because you were in a rush?”

“yes,” she admitted, nodding quickly. then, after a brief pause, she tilted her head and gave you an almost too-sweet smile. “but, in my defence, i think meeting you might be the best thing to happen to me today.”

you blinked. “excuse me?”

“you’re… stunning.” she continued, looking you up and down like she’d just discovered a rare work of art.

you were momentarily stunned into silence. did this woman just crash into your car and then immediately start flirting with you?

she took your silence as an opportunity to step closer, eyes sparkling. “since i ruined your morning, maybe i can make it up to you? coffee? lunch? dinner? a weekend getaway?” she clasped her hands together dramatically. “please, let me be your compensation.”

you let out a sharp laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “right. first things first, we need to exchange insurance details, not flirt.”

“why not both?” she quipped, grinning.

“because i don’t date reckless drivers,” you shot back, though the corners of your lips twitched upwards slightly.

touché.

she gasped, placing a hand over her heart. “ouch. but i’m normally a great driver, i swear! today was just an off day. and i promise i’d be very careful with your heart if you gave me a chance.”

you sighed, running a hand through your hair before pulling out your phone. “name?”

“sana,” she answered immediately. “minatozaki sana. but you can just call me yours.”

you groaned. “please just give me your actual details before i report you for flirting-related offences.”

“i think the real crime is how breathtaking you are,” she shot back without missing a beat.

you stared at her. she stared back, completely unashamed.

this was going to be a long morning.

⸻

step two: sana does not give up.

a few days passed, and you thought that would be the end of your interaction with sana. but then, out of nowhere, you got a text.

unknown number: hi breathtaking, hope you’re having a lovely day. just wondering, have you forgiven me for the minor car-related inconvenience yet?

you blinked at your phone. minor car-related inconvenience? she really had a way with words.

you sighed and typed back.

you: sana, how did you even get my number?

sana: for a surgeon, you have a very bad memory. you wrote it down when we exchanged details, remember? :)

you: that was for insurance purposes

sana: exactly. my heart was insured the moment i met you.

you: sana.

you could practically hear her giggling through the screen.

sana: okay okay, i’ll behave… unless you want me to continue?

you: goodbye, sana.

sana: goodbye for now ;)

you sighed, shaking your head. she was relentless.

but, annoyingly, you found yourself smiling just a little.

⸻

step three: sana is everywhere.

as if crashing into your car and flirting via text weren’t enough, sana somehow started appearing in your life everywhere.

you ran into her at the café near your hospital.

“fancy seeing you here,” she said with a bright grin. “or is this fate?”

“it’s just a café, sana,” you deadpanned, stirring your coffee.

“yes, but you’re here, which makes it special.”

you ran into her at the supermarket.

“buying groceries? how domestic of us,” she teased, peering into your basket. “should i pick up some wine for our imaginary date later?”

“should i pick up a restraining order?” you countered.

“harsh,” she pouted. “but i like my women feisty.”

and, somehow, you even ran into her at the florist.

“let me guess,” you said dryly, watching her browse the roses. “you’re here to buy flowers for yourself because no one else will deal with you?”

“wrong,” she smirked, plucking a bouquet of soft pink peonies from the shelf. “i’m here to buy these for you.”

you blinked as she handed them to you with an almost shy smile.

“i know i joke around a lot,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck, “but i really do think you’re special. and i’d love to take you out properly—no car crashes involved this time.”

for once, she wasn’t being over-the-top. she was just looking at you with a slight pink hue to her cheeks, soft and sincere.

and, against all logic, your heart skipped a beat.

you sighed, shaking your head. “fine. one date. but if you crash into anything else before then, i’m cancelling.”

she gasped dramatically. “i swear on my love for you, i will drive like an angel.”

“we’ll see,” you muttered, rolling your eyes—but you couldn’t stop the small smile forming on your lips.

⸻

step four: sana wins your heart.

one date turned into two. two turned into three. before you knew it, you were falling—hard and fast.

sana was everything you didn’t expect. she was playful and flirty, yes, but she was also incredibly sweet. she memorised how you liked your coffee, texted you to make sure you were eating properly during your shifts, and sent you videos of cute animals whenever you were feeling stressed. sana felt like good news. being with sana felt like good news.

one evening, after a long day at the hospital, you came home to find her waiting outside your apartment, holding a takeaway bag.

“i figured you’d be too tired to cook,” she said, smiling a shy smile softly. “so i brought your favourite.”

you stared at her, warmth spreading through your chest.

“what’s wrong?” she asked, tilting her head.

instead of answering, you stepped forward and kissed her.

she let out a small, surprised noise before melting into you, her arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you impossible closer. when you finally pulled away, she blinked at you, dazed.

“does this mean i’m officially your girlfriend now?” she asked, eyes shining.

you huffed a small laugh. “yeah, sana. i think it does.”

her face lit up, and she pulled you into a tight hug.

“worth every traffic violation,” she whispered and you could just hear that sly grin in her voice.

you groaned. “please don’t remind me.”

she just giggled, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

and just like that, the girl who had crashed into your car had somehow crashed straight into your heart and made herself at home.

⸻

step five: unbearable.

you were utterly exhausted by the time you stepped through the door of your shared flat, your body aching from the long hours spent in surgery. being a surgical oncologist was rewarding, very rewarding, but some days felt heavier than others, and today was one of them. you barely had the energy to take off your coat when you felt a familiar warmth wrap around you from behind, sana’s arms slipping around your waist as she pressed a soft kiss against your shoulder.

“you’re home,” she murmured softly, swaying you both slightly as if trying to melt away the weight of your day. her voice was gentle, filled with the kind of love that made your chest ache in the best way. you sighed, leaning into her touch, letting yourself be held. she didn’t rush you to talk, didn’t ask for details you weren’t ready to share—she simply knew.

after a few moments, she took your hand and led you to the sofa, guiding you to sit while she disappeared into the kitchen. when she returned, she held a steaming cup of tea in one hand. “here, baby,” she said with a soft smile. her fingers traced gentle circles on your back, grounding you, her presence enough to ease the lingering tension in your muscles.

“thank you,” you whispered, voice heavy with exhaustion but filled with affection. you turned your head slightly, pressing a slow kiss to her jaw, feeling the way she shivered slightly under your touch. she smiled, resting her forehead against yours. “always,” she promised, her hand finding yours, fingers intertwining. in that quiet moment, wrapped up in her warmth, the weight from your long day didn’t feel so unbearable anymore.

sana shifted slightly, pulling a blanket over the both of you, her fingers never once leaving yours. the tv hummed softly in the background, some lighthearted drama playing, but neither of you were really paying attention. she rubbed soothing circles against your knuckles, occasionally lifting your hand to press soft kisses against your fingers. “you work too hard,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

you sighed, closing your eyes for a moment. “i know… but i have to.”

she didn’t argue, because she understood. she knew how much your job meant to you, how deeply you cared for your patients, how every loss weighed on you even when you tried to hide it. but she also knew you, and she could tell when you needed someone to look after you for once. shifting closer, she nestled against you, her heartbeat steady and comforting against your side. your careers were on opposite ends of the spectrum—a kpop idol and a surgical oncologist—yet you both had your days and your careers meant the world to both of you.

“at least let me take care of you when you get home,” she said, her lips brushing against your temple. “you don’t have to carry everything alone. and you will never have to when i’m right here with you, my love.”

you exhaled slowly, allowing yourself to melt into her embrace. with sana, love was effortless—a quiet presence, a hand reaching for yours, a warmth that never wavered. you squeezed her fingers, letting the weight of the day fade into the softness of her touch. “i love you,” you whispered, and the way she smiled against your skin, the way she held you just a little tighter, made you certain that no matter how hard the days got, coming home to her would always be enough.

no matter how much bad news you may hear in the entirety of your career, it could not even begin to compare to the feeling of good news you get whilst being with sana.

though the weight of the day still clung to you, exhaustion pressing into your skin like an ache that wouldn’t fade, in sana’s arms, it was easier to forget—easier to let go. there was something about the way she held you, the way she felt like good news after a long day of nothing but bad. like the sun after weeks of grey skies, like a familiar melody you didn’t realise you’d forgotten. she didn’t have to say much; her presence was enough to soften the edges of your exhaustion.

she traced gentle patterns along your arm, her touch light, deliberate. sana had always been like this, always making sure you knew you were loved, that you were appreciated. she never asked for much in return, never demanded more than you could give. even now, as she kissed your temple and pulled you impossibly closer, she gave without expectation, without hesitation—like she wanted to be the one thing in your life that wasn’t complicated. she just wanted to be good news.

the room was quiet, the low hum of the tv playing some forgotten drama in the background, but all you could focus on was her. how she fit against you so perfectly, how she smelled faintly of vanilla and something uniquely sana, how she never made you feel like you had to be anything other than tired and human in her presence. there was no pressure to fill the silence with words, no expectation to be anything but yourself. she understood without you having to explain.

“you always know what i need,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. she smiled, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek before tucking herself against you, her warmth seeping into your skin. “of course i do,” she whispered back, her voice full of certainty, full of love. because with sana, it had never been complicated. she didn’t just want to be in your life—she wanted to be the best part of it, she wanted to be the good news.

[misanahrs]

crawling back to you. — myoui mina.

now playing: do i wanna know? - arctic monkeys.

synopsis - a friends with benefits arrangement with mina was supposed to be simple. but nothing really is simple in life, is it?

pairing - myoui mina x fem reader.

it started as something simple, something casual.

you never expected feelings to get involved. you were both busy with your lives, with mina’s schedule as a member of twice and your own commitments for your own group. a no-strings-attached arrangement seemed like the perfect solution—something to scratch an itch without the complications of a relationship.

and it worked.

it worked for a while.

mina was always so graceful, even in the midst of the late-night rendezvous. she was the kind of woman who commanded attention with her presence, her soft voice and quiet beauty pulling you in every time. when the two of you first started this, it felt natural, like something that was meant to be.

but as the days passed, it became harder to ignore the growing ache in your chest. the moments you shared were not just physical anymore. you found yourself thinking about her more than you should, wondering what it would be like to wake up next to her every morning, to be the one she looked at with more than just lustful, longing eyes.

it was stupid. you knew better than this. but with mina, things were never simple.

⸻

one evening, you both found yourselves alone again. her fingers brushed against yours as she reached for her coat, and for a split second, you swore you saw something more than just affection in her eyes.

“i should get going,” she said softly, her voice lingering in the silence between you.

you nodded, but there was a heaviness settling in your chest. you hadn’t expected it to feel like this��like a knot tightening with every passing moment.

“yeah, i guess so,” you muttered, your heart racing as you avoided her gaze.

mina stopped at the door, turning to face you. “you okay?”

the question caught you off guard. you looked up at her, trying to muster a smile, but you knew it wouldn’t be convincing.

“yeah,” you lied, voice shaky.

“are you sure?” she asked, concern lining her features as her brows furrowed.

you nodded again, but the lie tasted bitter.

⸻

the following days were clouded with doubt. you couldn’t stop thinking about that night—about the way mina had looked at you. was it just your imagination, or was she feeling the same thing you were?

but when you tried to talk to her about it, everything fell apart.

“mina, we need to talk,” you said one afternoon, meeting her after a rehearsal.

“about what?” she asked, her voice light, as if she hadn’t already guessed.

“about us. about what’s going on between us.”

her eyes softened, and she looked down for a moment, clearly considering your words. “i thought we’re fine. aren’t we?”

you swallowed hard. “i don’t think i can do this anymore. i think i’ve caught feelings for you.”

the words felt like they were suffocating you. mina’s face fell, and for a second, you saw something flicker in her eyes—a mix of regret, confusion, and something else.

“oh,” she whispered, stepping back slightly. “i… didn’t realise.”

your heart broke at the distance between you. “didn’t realise? mina, you’ve known this whole time. you’ve always known, haven’t you?”

if you didn’t know her the way you did, you wouldn’t have been able to tell, but her expression faltered, though she quickly masked it. you spent your days reminiscing on how her face felt all over you, how her face curves and dips, yet this face infront of you felt foreign. “i didn’t want to make things complicated. i thought this… this arrangement was enough.”

“but it’s not,” you muttered, feeling the weight of the truth sink into the depth of your bones. “i want more than this, mina.”

she looked at you, her gaze steady but distant, clouded with conflict. “i can’t give you more.”

those words were like a slap in the face. your chest tightened, your breath catching as you tried to hold it together.

“why?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

mina hesitated, biting her lip as she gathered her thoughts. “because i’m not ready. and i don’t want to hurt you. i don’t have the time for a relationship, getting in one with me would only damage you more.”

it wasn’t what you wanted to hear. you wanted her to say something that would make everything feel okay again. but the truth hung in the air like an unspoken promise—something that could never be.

“i never meant for it to go this far,” she said softly, her voice tinged with sadness. “but i can’t change what’s happened, and i can’t give you what you want.”

you nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek despite your best efforts to hold it in.

she reached out to cup your face in her left hand, but you stepped back and mina’s stomach tightened, the distance between you growing even wider.

“i’m sorry,” she whispered. “i never wanted to hurt you.”

you could barely bring yourself to speak. “i know.”

with that, she turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your heart aching as the door closed softly behind her.

⸻

you never saw her the same way again. the arrangement, the late-night kisses, the stolen moments—they all felt like a distant memory, something that could never be reclaimed. mina was still in your life, still in the background, but the intimacy you once shared was gone, replaced by an awkward silence whenever you crossed paths at events, music shows, award shows.

it was the price you paid for catching feelings—falling for someone who could never truly be yours.

and though you had tried to move on, it always stung a little when you thought of her. because no matter how many times you told yourself you’d be okay, you never truly could be. because the friendship you had with mina was never the same, but you couldn’t help but hold onto the pieces, even if they didn’t fit anymore.

⸻

[many months later]

the music was loud, the drinks flowing, and the laughter of the party filled the air. you weren’t supposed to be thinking about her, but the moment you saw mina across the room, it was impossible not to.

she was standing with someone—her girlfriend, you assumed. you had heard through mutual friends that she had started dating someone, and you’d prepared yourself for this moment, convinced yourself it wouldn’t hurt.

but it did.

what made it worse was that you weren’t alone either. your own girlfriend was by your side, holding your hand, whispering something in your ear that you didn’t quite process because your eyes were locked onto mina’s.

she saw you. she saw you with someone else. she saw how giselle’s gaze would drop down to your soft, glossed lips every time you would smile, or talk, or laugh, or anything. she saw how giselle would snake her arm around your waist and pull you down into her lap, giggling with you as your heads accidentally collide. she saw how giselle had you in ways she didn’t.

and she only had herself to blame.

for the briefest moment, something crossed her expression—something dangerously close to envy.

as the night went on, you felt her gaze on you, lingering every time you laughed a little too hard or leaned a little too close to the orange haired girl at your side.

and then, before you knew it, you found yourself alone in the bathroom, pressing against the locked door just as mina’s lips crashed onto yours again.

it was desperate, messy, and entirely wrong, but neither of you pulled away. her hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against her as your fingers tangled in her hair, the taste of alcohol strong yet still not quite strong enough to overpower the sense of regret lingering between the two of you.

“this is a bad idea,” you whispered against her lips, but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t stop. not when this is something that somehow keeps you up at night yet appears in your dreams as you sleep in the embrace of your girlfriend.

mina only hummed, her breath warm against your skin. “i know.”

your hands were shaking as you held onto her, the weight of everything you had lost crashing down on you all at once. it wasn’t supposed to be like this. you weren’t supposed to still want her.

but you did.

and from the way mina was clinging to you, acrylics digging into your skin, it was clear that she did too.

but nothing had changed.

you both had someone waiting for you outside this door—people who didn’t deserve this. and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

when you finally pulled away, your heart was hammering in your chest. mina looked at you with something unreadable in her eyes, her fingers still resting against your skin.

“we should go,” you murmured, voice barely steady.

mina nodded, stepping back.

but as you walked out of the bathroom, your lips still tingling from her kiss, you knew one thing for certain.

this wasn’t love. this was a mistake.

but the thirst deep in you could only by quenched by the taste of mina. so was it really a mistake if you’d go crawling back to her every single time?

[misanahrs]

𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

h, she/her, 18, bi

ults: blackpink, twice

stan list: twice, blackpink, red velvet, seventeen, aespa, itzy, (g)i-dle, & soojin!

always looking for moots!

i do not write/publish my work anywhere but Tumblr - kindly, if you see my work on anything else, please let me know and share the link, thank you!

𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓲 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮

will write: girls groups (mainly twice), wlw, idol x idol, idol x FEM reader, hc's, angst, fluff, smut, suggested, sfw, nsfw, and potentially requests (as long as they fit in with my rules).

will NOT write: idols that are minors, GP reader/idol, non-con and things like that, no male readers, anything that i do not want to/makes me uncomfortable.

requests/asks are open, however, please understand i am NOT obligated to write them.

𝓻𝓾𝓵𝓮𝓼

no male readers!!

dni; -18, men.

[misanahrs]

𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

twice:

[p.jh] baby, i’m a firefighter, trapped in a burning house. - angst.

[m.mn] crawling back to you. - angst.

[m.sn] all this just to be with you. - fluff.

[m.sn] only know you love her, - angst [part 1]

[m.sn] when you let her go. - angst [part 2]

[misanahrs]

baby, i’m a firefighter, trapped in a burning house. — park jihyo.

now playing: i’m a firefighter - CAS.

synopsis — the end of your failing relationship with your girlfriend is palpable. jihyo has always been like a firefighter—rushing in to save what’s left of your relationship, only after the flames have already burned too high. she loves you, you love her, but love alone has never been enough.

pairing — park jihyo x fem reader.

i.

the apartment is dark when she comes in.

anticipating. on edge. she takes off her shoes quietly, like she’s an intruder in her own home. the door clicks shut behind her, but she hesitates before walking further in—like she’s waiting for something. for you to acknowledge her presence. for the tension in the air to crack.

you don’t say anything.

you’re sitting on the couch, knees drawn to your chest, your gaze unfocused as the city lights filter through the window. the tv hums with static, long forgotten. an empty mug sits on the coffee table, the tea inside long cold. you don’t remember how long you’ve been sitting here, only that it’s been long enough to hear the clock tick past midnight.

jihyo exhales softly before stepping forward. “you’re still awake.

it’s not a question, but an observation laced with quiet regret.

you finally turn to look at her. she looks exhausted—her hair still styled from the performance, the faint shimmer of makeup clinging to her skin. her eyes are rimmed with the kind of fatigue that only comes from being stretched too thin for too long.

“i waited,” you say simply.

a flicker of something crosses her face—guilt, maybe. but she doesn’t apologise. she never does when it comes to this.

“i told you the schedule was packed today,” she says instead, setting her bag down by the door.

“i know.” you inhale sharply, steadying yourself. “i just thought—” you stop yourself. you don’t even know what you thought anymore.

that she would come home earlier? that she would at least text? that, for once, she would put you first?

“i tried to call,” she says as if reading your mind.

you look at your phone on the table, the screen black. no missed calls. you already know the answer, but you check anyway. nothing.

“did you?” you ask, voice hollow.

jihyo swallows, glancing away. “i—”

“don’t,” you cut her off, shaking your head. “just don’t.”

the silence stretches between you like a widening crack in glass. you wonder if this is how it happens—not in an explosive, dramatic fight, but in the small, quiet moments where love begins to slip through your fingers.

⸻

ii. flashback.

the first big argument had been over something simple. you’d planned a dinner. a nice one. candles, soft music, wine. you’d even worn her favourite dress of yours, something that always made her look at you like you were the only person in the world—whether it was the way the skirt flowed down your legs, stopping just before your ankles, or the way the colour made your skin shine when the lighting hit just right, or the deep neckline that emphasised your cleavage to everyone else, but to her, emphasised the way you flaunted the necklace she had gifted you on your birthday as if it was the most precious item to ever exist—it was just right.

she didn’t show up.

an hour passed. then two. by the third, you blew out the candles.

when she finally got home—face flushed from running, eyes wide with apology—you were already curled up in bed, staring at the ceiling.

“baby, i’m sorry,” she said immediately, voice breathless. “i swear i was going to come, but we had to reshoot a segment, and then there was this last-minute—”

“you could’ve called,” you murmured.

she hesitated. “i know. i should have.”

silence.

jihyo sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “i hate this too,” she admitted softly. “i hate that i don’t have time for us the way I want to.”

you turned your head then, meeting her gaze. “then when will it be enough?”

she looked away.

you knew she didn’t have an answer.

⸻

iii.

jihyo moves to sit beside you on the couch, hesitant. “you’re angry.”

it’s not a question.

you close your eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. “no,” you say, surprising yourself. “i’m just tired.”

jihyo flinches. somehow, that’s worse.

“i miss you,” you whisper. “i feel like i only get pieces of you, jihyo. like have to share you with the whole world, and i—” you break off, shaking your head. “i don’t know how to keep doing this.”

jihyo exhales shakily. she reaches for your hand, and you let her, even though your fingers don’t curl around hers the way they used to.

“i love you,” she says, quiet but firm. “you know that, right?”

you do. that’s the worst part. that’s the hardest part.

“i know,” you whisper. “but love isn’t always enough.

the words linger between you, heavy and aching. and her grip around your fingers loosen, your sign to slip away.

⸻

iv.

another fight.

jihyo had promised—promised—that she was yours for the weekend. no work, no rehearsals, just the two of you.

then, the call came.

“just a few hours,” she pleaded, already reaching for her coat. “they need me for an emergency meeting.”

your hands clenched at your sides. “of course they do.”

jihyo sighed. “don’t be like this.”

“like what?” You scoffed. “frustrated? disappointed?”

“unreasonable,” she muttered under her breath.

that did it.

“unreasonable?” your voice rose, incredulous. “jihyo, i never complain. i wait. i understand. i support you. but every single time i think i finally have you, you leave.”

jihyo winced, but you weren’t done.

“just tell me—when will i come first?”

she had no answer.

⸻

v. flashback.

the first time jihyo said she loved you, it was raining.

you were wrapped in a thick blanket on her couch, a rom-com playing in the background, though neither of you were watching. jihyo was tracing idle patterns under your shirt as she made herself comfortable on your chest, humming softly to herself.

“sing for me,” you murmured, your voice sleepy.

jihyo chuckled, shifting closer. “you hear me sing all the time.”

“not just for me,” you countered, tilting your head to look at her. “not like this.”

she smiled then, soft and a little shy, and started humming a melody under her breath. a ballad, slow and soothing. her voice wrapped around you like warmth, and before you knew it, your eyelids grew heavy.

then, just as you drifted off, you heard it—so quiet, so careful, as if she was afraid to wake you.

“i love you.”

you didn’t say it back until the next morning, when she blinked at you, bleary-eyed from sleep, and you tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“i love you too, jihyo.”

⸻

vi.

now, sitting across from jihyo in her darkened apartment, those words feel like a distant memory.

jihyo is still holding your hand, her grip tight, like she’s afraid you’ll slip away the moment she lets go. and maybe she should be afraid. but, maybe, she shouldn’t—maybe she’s too late.

because you already have slipped.

“jihyo,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “i can’t do this anymore.”

she stiffens. “what—”

“i love you,” you continue, blinking away the burn in your eyes. “i have always loved you. but i can’t keep setting myself on fire just to keep this relationship warm.”

jihyo shakes her head, her breathing shallow. “don’t say that. please, baby, don’t—”

your heart clenches at the way her voice wavers, at the tears brimming in her eyes. but you force yourself to hold your ground.

“this isn’t your fault,” you say softly. “you have a world that needs you, and i… i need something that you can’t give me.”

jihyo inhales sharply. “i can try,” she pleads. “i swear, i’ll do better. i’ll make more time—i just need—”

she’s spiralling. you can see it in the way her fingers tighten around yours, in the desperation in her eyes. but you can’t let yourself get pulled back in.

you smile softly, shaking your head as tears begin to fall down your own face.

you brush your thumb over her knuckles one last time before gently pulling away.

she chokes on a breath as your warmth slips from her grasp.

“goodbye, jihyo.”

then you stand. walk to the door.

and you don’t look back.

⸻

vii. flashback.

it was late. the world outside was quiet, the city lights twinkling through the curtains.

the two of you were tangled together on the sofa, your head resting against her chest, listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. her fingers traced slow, absentminded patterns on your arm, and you felt drowsy, lulled by her touch and the softness of the moment.

“you’re going to fall asleep on me again,” she teased, her voice gentle with affection.

you hummed in response, nuzzling closer. “can you blame me? you’re comfortable.”

she chuckled, the sound vibrating through you, before pressing a lazy kiss to the top of your head. “you’re such a baby sometimes.”

“only with you.”

jihyo shifted slightly, just enough to tilt your chin up so you could meet her gaze. her eyes were warm, filled with something deep and tender, something that made your heart ache in the best way.

“you know,” she murmured, her thumb brushing over your cheek, “no matter how busy life gets, i always feel like i can breathe when i’m with you.”

you smiled, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “good. i’ll always be here to remind you to slow down.”

she was quiet for a moment, just looking at you, her expression unreadable. then, softly, like a secret meant only for you, she whispered, “i want this forever.”

your breath caught. “forever?”

jihyo nodded, a small, almost shy smile playing at her lips. “yeah. you and me. always.”

warmth bloomed in your chest, spreading through you like sunlight. you took her hand in yours, lacing your fingers together, squeezing gently.

“always,” you promised, before leaning up to kiss her, slow and sweet, like you had all the time in the world.

and for a while, it really did feel like forever.

⸻

viii.

jihyo stays frozen long after the door clicks shut. her hands feel empty. her chest feels hollow.

you’re gone.

and for the first time in years, she doesn’t know how to fix this.

she was always a firefighter—always putting out the flames just before they consumed everything. she had to be. she had no choice but to be.

but she was too late this time.

and now, all she has left is the smoke.