Saint had always been the romantic one in her relationships—wearing her heart on her sleeve and giving all she could to the person she loved. When she met Maki, it was like catching a shooting star: rare, beautiful, and fleeting. Maki was everything Saint wasn’t—quiet, enigmatic, and distant. That air of mystery drew Saint in like a moth to a flame, and for a while, their love felt like a whirlwind of colors and laughter.
Maki wasn’t one to say much about her feelings, but Saint convinced herself that love didn’t always need words. Their bond grew through shared silences and stolen glances, and Saint had never been more certain of anything than she was about her love for Maki. But as the months passed, the certainty began to waver.
It started subtly—Maki answering texts late, cancelling plans last minute, and always seeming preoccupied when they were together. Saint brushed it off, telling herself Maki was simply busy or stressed. But then came the picnic day.
Saint had planned every detail—the perfect spot by the lake, her homemade sandwiches, and Maki’s favorite pastries. But when she arrived, it wasn’t Maki waiting for her under the cherry blossom tree. It was Akira, Maki’s older sister, standing there with an apologetic smile and a basket in her hands.
“I’m sorry, Saint,” Akira had said, her tone gentle. “Maki got caught up with... something. She asked me to come instead.”
Saint had nodded, swallowing her disappointment as Akira sat down and tried to make the best of the situation. What struck Saint was how easily Akira filled the silence. She asked questions about Saint’s day, laughed at her jokes, and even helped her shoo away a particularly nosy duck that had its eyes on their sandwiches.
That day was just the beginning.
Over time, Maki’s absences became more frequent, and it was always Akira stepping in. Sometimes with an excuse, other times with a look that said she understood Saint’s hurt. Akira never pried, never pushed Saint to open up, but her presence was steady, grounding.
And then there was Josiah.
Saint couldn’t ignore the growing connection between Maki and her best friend. She’d see them laughing together in ways Maki never laughed with her, or sharing inside jokes that made Saint feel like an outsider. The jealousy gnawed at her, but more than that, it was the loneliness.
She clung to Maki, convincing herself that things would get better, that Maki’s feelings hadn’t changed. But deep down, Saint knew she was settling for scraps of attention, holding onto the idea of what their love had been rather than what it was.
It was Akira who made the hollowness bearable. Every time Maki failed to show up, Akira was there—be it a canceled movie night, a missed dinner, or a forgotten anniversary. Akira remembered the little things Saint liked, brought her flowers “just because,” and listened when Saint finally let her frustrations spill out.
Saint knew it was wrong to lean on Akira, but she couldn’t help herself. There was something about Akira’s warmth, her unwavering support, that made Saint feel seen in a way Maki hadn’t in months.
But no matter how much comfort she found in Akira, Saint stayed with Maki. Loyalty, she told herself. Commitment. Love. She couldn’t bring herself to walk away, even as the weight of it all threatened to crush her.
One night, after another canceled date, Saint sat alone on her couch, the echoes of Akira’s kind words ringing in her ears. She stared at her phone, debating whether to call Maki or wait for her to remember she existed.
And for the first time, she wondered if she deserved more than this. If she deserved someone who didn’t need reminders to love her.
But the thought was fleeting. She pushed it away, buried it under layers of loyalty and guilt. Maki was her girlfriend, and that was that.
The family dinner was meant to be a turning point—a moment of truth where Saint would finally introduce Maki to her family. Saint had spent days agonizing over it, rehearsing her words in front of the mirror, and worrying about how her parents, especially her traditional grandmother, would react to the news. Maki had seemed indifferent when Saint first brought it up, offering a vague “Yeah, sure” when asked if she’d come.
Inside, Saint’s family was gathered around the dining table, the air buzzing with anticipation. Her mom had gone all out, preparing Saint’s favorite dishes, and even her grandmother had dressed up for the occasion.
But the day arrived, and Maki was nowhere to be found.
Instead, Akira showed up, holding a bouquet of pink roses and a small pink Care Bear—both of Saint’s favorites. When Saint opened the door and saw Akira standing there, her heart sank.
“She couldn’t make it,” Akira whispered softly to Saint, her expression apologetic but steady. “But I didn’t want you to face this alone.”
Saint felt her throat tighten. She wanted to scream, to cry, to demand why Maki couldn’t be here for her when it mattered most. But she didn’t. Instead, she just nodded and let Akira sit beside her.
“Saint,” her mom began, her eyes lighting up as she took in the sight of Akira with the flowers and stuffed bear. “You didn’t tell us your girlfriend was so thoughtful!”
Saint froze, the words lodging in her throat like stones.
Sheena, Saint’s sister, laughed, breaking the awkward silence. “Akira, good to see you here. I didn't know that the student council president liked my sister all along?” She teased and added, “What did you even see in my sister?”
Before Saint could correct them, her dad chimed in, “Akira, it’s nice to finally meet you. Saint’s been so nervous about introducing you, but you’re clearly a wonderful person.”
Even her grandmother, who was notoriously hard to impress, smiled warmly. “You have good taste, Saint.”
Saint felt like the room was spinning. This was supposed to be Maki’s moment. She had braced herself for the possibility of rejection, for questions and judgment, but not for this—a case of mistaken identity that felt both surreal and cruel.
Unable to bear it, Saint excused herself and slipped out of the dining room, heading to her bedroom. Akira, as if sensing her distress, followed her.
Saint sat on the edge of her bed, her hands trembling. “This was supposed to be her moment,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I was so scared, Akira. I didn’t even know if they’d accept her. But she didn’t even care enough to show up.”
Akira knelt in front of her, placing a comforting hand on Saint’s knee. “You were brave just for planning this, Saint. For wanting to share your love with your family. That says everything about who you are—and nothing about Maki’s choices.”
Saint buried her face in her hands, sobbing quietly as Akira stayed by her side. When Saint finally drifted off to sleep, exhausted from the emotional toll of the evening, Akira tucked her in and left quietly.
But the night wasn’t over for Akira.
When she returned to Maki's apartment, she found her sister lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone as if nothing had happened.
“You didn’t show up,” Akira said, her tone sharp and uncharacteristically harsh.
Maki barely looked up. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. Saint’s family doesn’t need to like me for us to work.”
Akira’s jaw tightened. “It wasn’t about them liking you, Maki. It was about Saint. She was terrified, and you left her to face it alone.”
Maki shrugged, her indifference infuriating Akira even more.
“You’re going to lose her,” Akira said, her voice trembling with restrained anger. “You keep treating her like she’s an afterthought, and one day, she’ll realize she deserves better.”
Maki finally looked at her sister, her expression unreadable. “You’re overreacting, Akira. Saint knows I care.”
Akira’s heart ached at how blind Maki was to the damage she was causing. “If you really cared, you’d show up for her,” she said quietly before retreating to her room, leaving Maki to her phone and whoever she was talking to over text.
As she closed the door, Akira couldn’t help but think about how many more times she could watch Saint hurt before this whole thing finally crumbles apart.
The night of their second anniversary was supposed to be special. Saint had made the reservation weeks in advance at a cozy restaurant with twinkling fairy lights and live music. It was the same place Maki had taken her on their first date—a place filled with memories and the promise of more to come. Saint had even splurged on a new dress and spent hours getting ready, eager to celebrate another year of love.
But two hours after the reservation time, Maki still hadn’t shown up. Saint sat on the bench outside the restaurant, clutching her phone tightly, refreshing her messages over and over. Finally, a text came through.
“Sorry, can’t make it tonight. Something came up.”
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. Saint stared at the screen, disbelief and heartbreak coursing through her. The restaurant had already closed, and the bustling streets around her were quieting as the night deepened. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave, holding onto the faint hope that Maki might still come.
She didn’t.
Instead, it was Akira who appeared, running toward her with an umbrella in hand.
Akira’s face was a mixture of concern and frustration as she took in Saint’s tear-streaked face and trembling form. Without a word, Akira dropped the umbrella and wrapped Saint in a tight embrace.
“I’m so sorry, Saint,” Akira whispered, her voice soft yet firm. “You don’t deserve this. You never did.”
Saint broke down, sobbing into Akira’s shoulder as the skies opened up and rain began to pour. Akira didn’t let go, holding Saint closer, shielding her from the worst of the rain.
When Saint’s sobs turned into weak hiccups, Akira gently led her to her car. She drove Saint home, her hands gripping the wheel tightly as she glanced at Saint’s pale, tear-streaked face.
Back at Saint’s apartment, Akira helped her inside, guiding her to the couch. Saint collapsed into it, exhaustion and heartbreak weighing her down.
“You didn’t eat dinner, did you?” Akira asked, her voice filled with worry.
Saint shook her head, unable to muster the energy to speak. Akira sighed, brushing damp strands of hair from Saint’s face.
“You need to rest,” Akira said softly.
Within moments, Saint was asleep, her body giving in to the toll of the night. Akira stayed by her side, draping a blanket over her and watching over her as the hours ticked by.
When Saint woke the next morning, her head was heavy, and her body ached. She blinked, realizing she was in her bed, the familiar scent of her sheets mingling with the warm aroma of soup.
She turned her head and saw Akira sitting in a chair beside the bed, a book in her hands. On the bedside table, a bowl of steaming soup and some medicines awaited her.
Akira looked up and smiled gently. “Good morning. You gave me a scare last night.”
Saint’s voice was hoarse as she spoke. “You stayed?”
“Of course I did,” Akira said, closing her book and setting it aside. “You were soaked from the rain, and I knew you’d catch a fever. I wasn’t going to leave you like that.”
Saint’s chest tightened, tears springing to her eyes once more. But this time, it wasn’t just sadness—it was gratitude.
“Why do you always show up for me?” Saint whispered, her voice breaking.
Akira reached out, brushing a tear from Saint’s cheek. “Because you deserve to have someone who does. And if she won’t, I will.”
And as Akira helped her sit up to eat, Saint couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been holding on to the wrong person all along.
A week had passed since that fateful night of her ruined anniversary, but Saint remained in her relationship with Maki. She clung to the tattered strings of their love, hoping, somehow, that things would improve. Yet, it was clear Maki wasn’t even trying. Days would pass without so much as a text, and when they did speak, Maki was distant, distracted. Meanwhile, Josiah seemed to occupy Maki’s every waking moment. It was a betrayal Saint tried to ignore, convincing herself that Josiah was just a friend.
But the truth was becoming harder to deny.
Saint received an invitation to a party. She had no interest in attending; parties weren’t her scene. But when she learned Akira would be there, she changed her mind. Deep down, she hoped Maki would be there too. Perhaps she could finally confront her girlfriend about her growing suspicions—or maybe, just maybe, they could reconnect.
When Saint arrived, the party was in full swing, the music loud and the energy high. She scanned the room, searching for Maki, her heart pounding with a mix of hope and dread.
Then she spotted her.
Maki stood near the center of the room, her attention entirely on Josiah. They were laughing, their faces close, the kind of intimacy that used to be reserved for Saint. And then, before Saint could process what was happening, Maki leaned in and kissed Josiah.
The room erupted in cheers and whistles, the crowd hyping them up as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if they all knew about them.
Saint’s world crumbled. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. The scene played out in slow motion, every second a stab to her heart. Her vision blurred with tears, her body frozen in place.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed her wrist, snapping her out of her daze. She turned, startled, to see Akira. Without a word, Akira pulled her through the crowd, weaving expertly until they were outside in the cool night air.
They stopped in the parking lot, the muffled sound of the party still audible in the background. Saint finally collapsed, her knees giving way as sobs wracked her body. Akira caught her, wrapping her arms around her and holding her tightly.
“I—I can’t believe it,” Saint choked out between sobs. “She… she kissed her. In front of everyone.”
Akira’s hold on her tightened. “I know,” she said softly, her voice filled with an anger that wasn’t directed at Saint but at her sister.
“Did you know?” Saint asked, her voice trembling with desperation. “Did you know she was cheating on me?”
Akira hesitated for a moment before answering. “No, I didn’t know for sure. But I had a hunch. I didn’t want to say anything without proof. I didn’t want to hurt you more than you already were.”
Saint buried her face in Akira’s shoulder, the weight of everything finally breaking her. “Why… why didn’t I see it? Why wasn’t I enough for her?”
Akira gently pulled back, cupping Saint’s tear-streaked face in her hands. “This isn’t about you not being enough, Saint. This is about Maki not valuing what she had. You gave her everything, and she chose to throw it away. That’s on her, not you.”
Saint sobbed harder, the pain too much to bear. Akira held her until her cries subsided, and exhaustion took over. Saint’s head lolled against Akira’s shoulder as she drifted into a fitful sleep.
Akira sighed, carefully lifting Saint into her arms and carrying her to her car. As she drove Saint home, her heart ached with a mix of rage at her sister and an overwhelming desire to protect Saint from ever feeling this kind of pain again.
When they arrived, Akira carried Saint inside and gently tucked her into bed. She wanted to stay by her side, but she knew she had to go out to unwind. Everything that happened was a shock to her as well.
She stayed for a moment, watching Saint sleep peacefully. And as she sat there, Akira made a silent vow: Saint deserved so much more than what Maki had given her. And if Saint ever allowed herself to let go of Maki, she would be there, ready to show her what real love could look like.
As Akira quietly prepared to leave Saint’s apartment that night, the dim glow of the hallway light guiding her steps, she heard a soft voice behind her.
“Akira?”
She turned to see Saint’s mom standing there, her kind eyes searching Akira’s face. There was an unmistakable warmth in her gaze, but also concern. It was the same warmth Saint often carried, a resemblance that made Akira’s heart ache.
“Yes, Mrs. Sevilleja?” Akira asked, her voice cautious but polite.
“Could we have a little talk?” Mrs. Sevilleja gestured toward the dining room. “Just a moment, if you don’t mind.”
Akira hesitated but nodded. “Of course.”
They sat at the dining table, the room quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator. Saint’s mom folded her hands in front of her, her expression gentle but firm.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you since that family dinner,” Mrs. Sevilleja began, her tone soft. “That night, I thought you were Saint’s girlfriend. And honestly, after everything I’ve seen, I wouldn’t have minded if you were.”
Akira’s stomach flipped at the statement, but she stayed silent, waiting for her to continue.
“Tonight, though, I saw how you took care of Saint,” Mrs. Sevilleja continued. “I saw how you held her, how you looked at her… You love her, don’t you?”
Akira’s breath caught in her throat. She opened her mouth to deny it, to push away the truth that had lived silently in her heart for so long. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, tears welled in her eyes, and she looked down at the table, her hands gripping the edge tightly.
“Yes,” Akira whispered, her voice trembling. “I love her. I’ve loved her… even before my sister did.”
Saint’s mom leaned forward, her expression softening even more. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because she was happy,” Akira said, her tears spilling over. “When Maki told me she wanted to date Saint, I thought… maybe it was better that way. Maki’s my sister, and Saint seemed to care about her so much. I didn’t want to ruin that. But then… Maki started treating her like she didn’t matter. And I’ve just been standing by, watching Saint get hurt over and over again.”
Akira’s shoulders shook as she cried, the weight of everything she’d been holding in finally breaking free. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t keep watching her suffer, but I’m terrified of making things worse for her.”
Mrs. Sevilleja reached across the table, placing a comforting hand over Akira’s. “Akira, listen to me,” she said gently. “I haven't even met Maki - but I know you've been more present in Saint's life as she was. I’ve seen the way you care for her, the way you protect her. And tonight, you brought her home, made sure she was safe and cared for—something her girlfriend should have done, but didn’t.”
Akira looked up, her tear-streaked face filled with vulnerability.
“You have my blessing,” Mrs. Sevilleja said firmly, her voice unwavering. “If you truly love Saint, and if you’re willing to be the person who stands by her, who puts her first… then I give you permission to pursue her.”
Akira’s breath hitched, her emotions overwhelming her. “You… you mean that?”
Mrs. Sevilleja smiled, her eyes glistening with her own tears. “I just want my daughter to be happy. And I believe you can give her that happiness.”
Without thinking, Akira stood and embraced Mrs. Sevilleja, the gesture filled with gratitude and relief. Mrs. Sevilleja held her tightly, stroking her back in a motherly way that soothed Akira’s aching heart.
“Thank you,” Akira whispered, her voice breaking.
“Just promise me one thing,” Mrs. Sevilleja said, pulling back to look at her. “When the time is right, tell Saint how you feel. She deserves to know. And she deserves someone who will love her the way you do.”
Akira nodded, determination flickering in her tear-filled eyes. For the first time in a long while, she felt a glimmer of hope—hope that maybe, just maybe, she could finally show Saint the love she had been holding in her heart all along.
The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over Saint’s bedroom. Saint stirred, her body still heavy with exhaustion and the fever that had taken hold of her. Her head throbbed slightly, but the warmth beside her brought her a strange sense of comfort.
She blinked her eyes open and turned her head to find Akira sleeping beside her, her features softened by sleep. Akira’s arms were loosely draped around her, as if even in slumber, she wanted to shield Saint from the world.
Saint’s chest tightened, a wave of gratitude washing over her. Akira had been her constant—her protector, her solace. And last night, when Saint’s world had shattered, it was Akira who had pieced her back together, even if just a little.
Her fevered state made her bold, and before she could think twice, Saint wrapped her arms around Akira, pulling her closer.
Akira jolted awake at the sudden embrace, her eyes wide with alarm. “Saint? Are you okay?” she asked, her voice filled with concern as her hand instinctively went to Saint’s forehead to check her temperature.
Saint smiled, a soft, genuine smile that lit up her face despite her flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. It was a smile Akira hadn’t seen in what felt like months, and it made her heart ache and swell all at once.
“You’re burning up,” Akira muttered, already starting to sit up. “I’ll get you some medicine and water—”
“Don’t go,” Saint interrupted, her voice soft and pleading. She tightened her grip on Akira, her head resting against her shoulder. “Stay with me. Please.”
Akira froze, her heart pounding in her chest. “But you need—”
“I just need you,” Saint whispered, her voice laced with vulnerability.
Akira’s face flushed a deep shade of red, and she quickly turned her head, trying to hide her embarrassment. Saint noticed and let out a weak giggle, the sound light and teasing despite her condition.
“Are you blushing?” Saint teased, her voice slightly hoarse but filled with mirth.
“No!” Akira protested, though her hands went up to cover her face, which only made Saint laugh more.
“You are,” Saint croaked out, her laughter turning into soft coughs. But even as she coughed, she didn’t let go of Akira, clinging to her like she was the only thing keeping her grounded.
Akira sighed, dropping her hands and looking at Saint with a mix of exasperation and affection. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“And you’re cute when you’re flustered,” Saint quipped, her cheeks flushed—not entirely from the fever this time.
Akira rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re supposed to be resting, not teasing me.”
“I’ll rest later,” Saint murmured, nuzzling closer. “But, what do we do now, Akira?”
Akira hesitated, brushing a strand of hair from Saint’s forehead. “We figure out what’s best for you,” she said carefully. “And we go from there.”
Saint’s lips trembled as she looked down at her hands. “Maki texted last night, didn’t she?”
Akira stiffened slightly, her jaw tightening. “She did.”
“What did she say?”
Akira took a deep breath. “She asked if you were at the party and said she’d come to pick you up.”
Saint’s chest tightened, tears threatening to spill again. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“I turned off your phone,” Akira admitted, her voice firm but gentle. “I didn’t want you to see it—not after everything. You’d just stopped crying, Saint. I couldn’t stand to see you break again.”
Saint’s tears spilled over despite her efforts to hold them back. “I don’t understand, Akira. How could she… after everything?”
Akira didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she leaned forward, pulling Saint into a tight embrace. “I don’t know why she did what she did,” Akira said softly. “But what I do know is that you don’t deserve this. None of this is your fault, Saint.”
Saint clung to Akira, her sobs muffled against her shoulder. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, Akira rubbing soothing circles on Saint’s back until the younger girl’s tears finally subsided, leaving her emotionally exhausted.
Once Saint was asleep again, Akira gently extricated herself from her embrace, careful not to wake her. She picked up her phone - she hovered over the keyboard before she began typing a message to Maki.
Akira: Maki, we need to talk.
The reply came almost instantly, a rarity when it came to Maki and Akira’s dynamic:
Maki: What’s up? Didn’t expect you to text me. Is everything okay?
Akira stared at the screen, her grip tightening on the phone. She could feel the anger bubbling beneath the surface, but she pushed it down. This wasn’t about her. This was about Saint.
Akira put the phone down with a heavy sigh, glancing back at Saint, who was still sleeping soundly. For a moment, she hesitated. She didn’t want to leave Saint alone, but she knew this conversation had to happen. Maki needed to face the consequences of her actions.
Walking over to the bed, Akira pressed a soft kiss to Saint’s forehead. “Rest, princess,” she whispered. “I’ll handle this.”
She left the apartment with a heavy heart but a clear resolve. It was time for Maki to answer for what she’d done, and Akira was ready to fight for Saint’s peace, even if it meant confronting her own sister.
Akira entered Maki's apartment, her mind racing with anger and frustration. She had no illusions about what she would find. As soon as she stepped inside, the telltale signs were there: a pair of high-heeled shoes near the door, a jacket draped over the armrest of the couch, and an unfamiliar scent lingering in the air.
They weren’t hers. They weren’t Maki’s.
Her jaw clenched as she marched deeper into the apartment, her sharp eyes scanning for any further proof of what she already suspected. Then she spotted them—Maki and Josiah, lounging in the living room like they had no care in the world.
Josiah’s laughter faltered when she noticed Akira’s presence, and Maki froze, her face paling.
Akira didn’t say a word. She simply stormed over, grabbed Maki by the arm, and dragged her to the couch. Maki protested weakly, but Akira’s grip was unyielding.
“Sit,” Akira snapped, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Without waiting for a response, she spun on her heel and marched to Maki’s bedroom. Throwing open the closet door, she found Josiah’s bag nestled between Maki’s clothes. Her suspicions confirmed, Akira grabbed the bag and marched back to the living room, her eyes blazing.
“Out here, Josiah,” she barked, her voice cold.
Josiah hesitated but complied, walking out with an air of reluctance. Akira forced her to sit beside Maki on the couch, crossing her arms as she loomed over them.
“Explain,” Akira demanded, her voice like steel.
Maki and Josiah exchanged uneasy glances, but neither spoke.
Akira’s anger boiled over. “Don’t you dare stay quiet now. Saint has given you both nothing but love and loyalty, and this is how you repay her?” She turned her glare to Maki. “You’re her girlfriend. Two years, Maki. Two years! And you think it’s okay to throw all of that away for—”
Her voice broke with fury as she gestured toward Josiah. “For her? Her so-called best friend since pre-school? Someone Saint trusts with her life?”
Maki flinched, her lips pressed into a thin line, while Josiah looked down, guilt flickering in her eyes.
“Why?” Akira pressed, her voice shaking now, her anger mixing with raw pain. “Why would you do this to her? To someone who’s done nothing but love you both unconditionally? Saint’s like a saint. She’s sweet, kind, bold—she’s everything good in this world. And yet here you are, breaking her heart without a shred of remorse.”
Maki opened her mouth to speak but closed it again, her head hanging low.
“I sacrificed my own feelings for her,” Akira continued, her voice quieter but filled with emotion. “I stepped aside because I thought you’d make her happy. Because I thought you loved her enough to cherish her the way she deserves.” Her voice cracked. “But you’ve done nothing but hurt her, and now I’m left wondering if I made the biggest mistake of my life.”
The room fell into a tense silence. Maki and Josiah didn’t meet her gaze, their shame evident.
“Well?” Akira demanded, her arms crossed tightly. “Are you going to say anything, or are you just going to sit there and let your silence speak for how little Saint means to you?”
Maki finally broke, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, okay?” she said, her words spilling out in a rush.
“That’s not an excuse!” Akira shot back, her voice rising. “You kissed at a party, in front of everyone - they were even cheering you both on as if they knew about you two, knowing Saint could’ve been there. Knowing how much she trusted you. You're saying you didn't meant for it to happen?”
The tension in the room was suffocating as Akira continued to unleash her fury at Maki and Josiah. But the sound of the apartment door opening cut her off mid-sentence. All three heads turned toward the entrance, and there stood Saint.
She looked visibly ill, her face pale and her movements sluggish, but her eyes burned with an intensity that commanded attention. Saint's presence alone shifted the atmosphere from chaos to stunned silence.
Saint’s voice, usually warm and inviting, was now steady and firm. “Mom told me that you left, Aki. What's going on?”
Akira immediately moved to her side, concern etched into her features. “Saint, you shouldn’t be here. You’re still sick—”
“I’m fine,” Saint interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m not here to argue. I’m here to end this.”
Maki’s eyes widened. “End what?”
Saint turned to her, her expression unreadable. “Us. I’m breaking up with you, Maki.”
The declaration hit the room like a bomb. Maki’s mouth opened and closed as she struggled to find words, while Josiah’s composure cracked, tears streaming down her face.
Josiah shot up from the couch and rushed to Saint, pulling her into a tight hug. Akira instinctively stepped forward to separate them, but Saint raised a hand, signaling her to stop.
“It’s okay,” Saint said softly, though her tone carried the weight of exhaustion.
Josiah sobbed against her shoulder, her words tumbling out incoherently. “I’m sorry, Saint. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you—I never wanted this to happen.”
Saint’s hands gently patted Josiah’s back in a comforting motion, her touch far too kind for someone who had just been betrayed. Akira stood frozen, her chest tightening with frustration and confusion.
“Why are you comforting her?” Akira finally blurted out, unable to contain herself. “She’s the one who—”
“I know,” Saint interrupted again, her voice quiet but resolute. She met Akira’s gaze briefly, her eyes softening. “But I’m not going to hold onto anger. It doesn’t help anyone.”
Akira felt a pang of helplessness as she watched Saint console Josiah, who clung to her like a lifeline. But the fragile peace shattered when Josiah’s muffled confession broke through her sobs.
“I did it for you, Saint,” Josiah whispered. “I wanted Maki to leave you. I thought… I thought if she hurt you enough, you’d come to me.”
The room plunged into stunned silence.
Saint froze, pulling back slightly to look at Josiah. “What are you talking about?”
Josiah’s face was red and tear-streaked as she finally confessed. “I’ve loved you for years, Saint. I thought if I could show you how Maki doesn’t deserve you, you’d see me instead. But I ruined everything. I betrayed you, and I hurt you—” Her voice cracked as she broke into another wave of tears.
Maki, who had been sitting in stunned silence, suddenly spoke, her voice sharp. “What the hell, Josiah? You’ve been trying to get Saint away from me this whole time?”
“And you weren’t doing a good enough job at keeping her happy,” Josiah shot back, her tears momentarily pausing as anger flared in her voice.
“Enough,” Saint said, her voice cutting through the rising tension like a knife. She stepped back from Josiah and looked between the two women who had both betrayed her trust.
“I don’t care what your reasons were,” she said, her voice trembling but firm. “Both of you made choices that hurt me. And honestly, I don’t know what hurts more—being cheated on or finding out that someone I thought was my best friend was trying to manipulate me into a relationship.”
Her gaze softened as she turned to Akira, who stood quietly on the sidelines, watching the chaos unfold with a mix of worry and heartache. “Akira,” Saint said softly, her voice breaking slightly. “Can we leave?”
Akira nodded immediately, stepping to Saint’s side and offering her arm for support. Saint leaned into her, and together, they walked toward the door.
Before they left, Saint turned back one last time, her eyes filled with a sorrow that silenced both Maki and Josiah. “I hope you both figure out what you really want. But I can’t be a part of it anymore.”
With that, she and Akira stepped out of the apartment, leaving behind a whirlwind of confusion, guilt, and broken relationships.
“I don’t want to go home yet,” Saint said, her voice quiet, as she glanced at Akira. She didn’t feel like facing the empty silence of her apartment just yet. She needed a distraction, and she knew exactly how to get it.
“What do you mean?” Akira asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I need a drink. I need to forget everything for a while,” Saint muttered. "Come on, Akira. Just one drink.”
Akira hesitated for a moment, clearly reluctant, but she nodded. "Fine, but just one drink."
They drove to a nearby bar, one that Saint knew had private rooms where they could unwind away from the crowd. When they walked in, it was quieter than usual, the dim lights offering a soft, almost intimate atmosphere. They were quickly shown to their room, where Saint ordered a round of drinks, hoping the alcohol would give them some temporary relief from the chaos of the night.
But as the drinks came, Saint quickly realized that Akira was a lightweight. Akira took one sip of her drink, and by the time Saint had finished half of hers, Akira was already feeling the effects. Her cheeks flushed, and she leaned in close to Saint, her voice soft and slurred.
“I shouldn’t be drinking,” Akira murmured, her eyes brimming with emotion. “But... it’s all too much. I don’t know what to do with myself anymore.”
Saint blinked, watching Akira carefully. "What do you mean?" she asked, feeling her own heart tighten.
Akira’s words spilled out quickly, her emotions unraveling with each sentence. “I’ve loved you for so long, Saint,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “And now… now I see you hurting, and I can’t just sit by. I should’ve been honest with you from the start, but I didn’t want to mess everything up...”
Saint was stunned, her eyes wide as she stared at Akira. “Akira, no… You don’t have to—”
“No,” Akira interrupted, clutching her drink tightly in her hands as she wiped away a stray tear. “I should’ve told you before all of this… before Maki... before Josiah... I should’ve just picked you, Saint. You should’ve picked me.” She broke down into quiet sobs, her shoulders shaking as she clung to Saint’s arm.
Saint was taken aback, overwhelmed by everything that had happened: the betrayal from Maki and Josiah, Akira’s sudden confession, and the weight of her own feelings that were still raw and unprocessed. It felt like the entire universe had shifted, and she wasn’t sure how to find her balance again.
“Akira,” Saint murmured, her hand gently resting on Akira’s back, trying to offer some semblance of comfort. “I don’t know what to say right now. I'm sorry.”
Akira sobbed harder, her grip on Saint tightening. "I just... I can’t stand seeing you hurt. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, like I'm your backburner or something."
Saint sat there, her heart torn between wanting to comfort Akira and the crushing weight of everything that had happened. It wasn’t fair. Akira had been there for her all this time, but now... Saint wasn’t sure if she was ready to deal with Akira’s feelings. She needed to sort her own out first.
“I’m sorry,” Saint whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t know what to do either.”
Akira just cried in her arms, too drunk and overwhelmed to say anything more. Saint held her tightly, comforting her as best as she could while still trying to process the mess of emotions swirling inside her.
After a while, Saint managed to get Akira back to her car, the alcohol having dulled the edges of her thoughts. The drive was quiet, both of them lost in their own thoughts. By the time they arrived at Akira’s apartment, Saint’s own exhaustion was starting to hit. She could feel the fever creeping back as she helped Akira into the building and up to her door.
But Saint was too tired to leave, and Akira, still reeling from her confessions and the weight of the night, pulled her inside. Akira’s apartment wasn’t far from Saint’s, and Saint figured it would be better for both of them if they stayed together for the night.
Akira woke up to find herself in the same bed, surrounded by warmth. She looked down and realized that Saint was there, clinging tightly to her, still sick and curled up beside her. Saint’s fever had worsened during the night, and she had unknowingly sought out Akira’s presence for comfort, something Akira couldn’t help but feel both grateful and heartbroken over.
Saint shifted in her sleep, still feverish, and Akira wrapped her arms around her, holding her closer as she drifted back to sleep, trying to comfort Saint as she had done countless times before.
The warmth of Saint’s body against Akira’s was comforting, despite the turmoil inside both of them. The room was quiet except for the soft sound of their breathing, and for the first time that night, Akira felt a flicker of peace. She hadn’t meant to confess her feelings for Saint like that—she hadn’t meant for the weight of her emotions to pour out in the middle of all the chaos—but it had happened. And now, Akira had to face the reality of it.
She lay still, her arms wrapped tightly around Saint, feeling the gentle rise and fall of Saint’s chest. Akira couldn’t help but wonder if Saint even understood the depth of what she had just admitted. And while Saint’s soft, fevered breathing brought Akira a sense of calm, there was a part of her that couldn’t deny the rawness of the night.
Akira gently ran a hand through Saint’s hair, brushing it out of her face. Saint stirred in her sleep, mumbling quietly, but didn’t wake. Akira’s heart ached as she thought of all the pain Saint had been through—the betrayal from Maki, Josiah, and now her own emotional confession. It was too much. Saint had been through so much, and Akira just wanted to take some of that weight from her, to make everything better somehow.
But she knew that wasn’t possible. No matter how much Akira cared for her, how much she loved her, Saint’s heart was broken, and she wasn’t sure if it was even something Akira could fix.
As the hours passed, Akira’s thoughts wandered back to the conversation with Maki and Josiah earlier that day. She had never expected it to go that way. Maki had always been distant with Saint, but to learn that Maki was cheating on her, and that Josiah—Saint’s best friend—had been trying to sabotage their relationship all along, was a shock that Akira still couldn’t fully process.
What hurt more was how selflessly Saint had reacted. Despite everything that had been done to her, Saint had comforted Josiah, someone who had betrayed her trust, with no regard for her own hurt. Saint was too kind for her own good sometimes.
Akira sighed quietly, rubbing her hand over her forehead. The guilt was starting to settle in again—the guilt of loving someone who was so clearly broken by others. But her feelings for Saint were undeniable. They always had been. She had loved Saint even before Maki had ever entered the picture, and even though she’d hidden those feelings to support her sister, now that everything was out in the open, Akira couldn’t pretend anymore.
She wasn’t sure what was going to happen next—whether Saint would ever look at her differently or if Akira had just ruined whatever relationship they had by confessing.
Akira carefully adjusted herself, careful not to wake Saint, though her heart swelled with a mixture of protectiveness and longing. Saint had been so kind, so trusting—was it possible that she would even consider the feelings Akira had for her? Akira couldn’t imagine Saint feeling the same way, not after everything she had just been through with Maki and Josiah.
But still, Akira couldn't stop herself from hoping.
She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Saint’s forehead, brushing her hair gently away from her face. Saint stirred but didn’t wake, the peacefulness of sleep surrounding her like a protective bubble. Akira stayed still, her chest tightening, as she realized how much she had come to care for the girl in her arms. How much she wanted to be the one who could make Saint feel whole again, after everything that had happened.
After a few more moments of silence, Akira carefully slid out of bed, not wanting to disturb Saint’s much-needed rest. She padded softly into the kitchen to make something for breakfast, hoping to ease the lingering tension in her chest.
As she cooked, her thoughts kept returning to the night before—the confessions, the heartbreak, the overwhelming weight of all that had happened. Akira had never been the type to be so vulnerable, but with Saint, everything felt different.
She finished preparing a simple breakfast and went back to the bedroom, where Saint was still asleep. Akira placed the tray on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed, watching Saint for a moment. She was still beautiful, even in the midst of all the pain she was enduring.
Akira gently nudged Saint’s shoulder, her voice soft. “Hey, wake up. I made you breakfast.”
Saint blinked her eyes open slowly, her fever still lingering but not as bad as the night before. She smiled faintly at Akira, a quiet thank-you in her expression as she sat up, rubbing her eyes.
"Thank you," Saint murmured hoarsely, her voice still raspy from the fever.
Akira smiled back, feeling a surge of warmth. "Of course. You need to eat something."
Saint looked down at the breakfast in front of her, then back at Akira. “You didn’t have to do this. You’ve already done so much for me.”
Akira swallowed, her heart aching. “I’ll always do anything for you, Saint. You mean a lot to me.”
Saint’s gaze softened, and for a brief moment, Akira thought she saw something flicker in her eyes—something more than just friendship. But then it was gone, replaced with the usual warmth that had drawn Akira in from the start.
For now, Akira was content just to be there, beside Saint. She didn’t know what would happen between them, or if Saint would ever feel the same, but she would stay by her side, no matter what.
The morning stretched on quietly as Akira watched Saint take small, slow bites of the breakfast she had prepared. Saint’s fever had started to subside, but her exhaustion lingered. It made Akira ache, seeing her so vulnerable, knowing what she had been through. The betrayal, the heartbreak, the emotional weight of all the lies—it had drained Saint, and Akira could only wonder how much of it she could take before she broke completely.
"Do you feel any better?" Akira asked softly, her voice filled with concern as she watched Saint take another sip of water.
Saint nodded slowly, offering a small smile in return, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "A little. Still tired, though."
Akira felt her heart clench. Saint wasn’t just physically tired—she was emotionally exhausted, and Akira could see it in the way her eyes darted around, unfocused, as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. It was clear that even with her sister’s betrayal revealed, there was still a mountain of pain to climb.
"You’ve been through a lot," Akira murmured, unable to hide the empathy in her voice. "But I promise, you don’t have to go through this alone. Not anymore."
Saint glanced up at her, the faintest hint of hesitation in her expression. "I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now," she said quietly, her voice tinged with the vulnerability Akira had come to know so well.
Akira’s heart shattered just a little more. Saint had always been the strong one, the one who took care of everyone else, who smiled through her pain. But now, it was Akira’s turn to take care of her.
"You don’t have to decide right now," Akira said gently, her hand reaching across the table to touch Saint’s. "We’ll take it one step at a time, okay? Just focus on getting better. And if you need anything, I’ll be here."
Saint looked at her for a long moment, her gaze softening. She didn’t pull away from Akira’s touch. In fact, Akira noticed, to her surprise, that Saint’s hand had lingered against hers longer than usual. Akira’s heart skipped a beat.
But before Akira could process what that might mean, the moment was interrupted by a buzzing sound—the familiar ringtone of Saint’s phone.
Saint glanced at the screen, her expression falling. Akira could see the hesitation in her eyes, the way she tightened her grip on the phone as though it weighed a thousand pounds.
"Who is it?" Akira asked softly, though she already had an inkling of who it might be.
"It’s Maki," Saint replied, her voice thick with uncertainty. She stared at the screen for a moment, her thumb hovering over the screen. "She keeps texting me. She wants to talk."
Akira felt a pang in her chest, but she pushed it aside. "You don’t have to answer her if you don’t want to, Saint. You’ve been through enough already."
Saint looked down at the phone again, her fingers hovering over the keys. Akira could see the internal battle waging inside her—the love she had for Maki, despite everything that had happened, and the hurt, the confusion, and the betrayal that weighed so heavily on her heart.
"I don’t even know what to say to her anymore," Saint admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know I can forgive her- but myself? I don't think I can... and I don’t even know if I want to."
Akira nodded, her heart aching for her. "Take your time. It’s okay to not know what you want or how to feel."
Saint exhaled shakily, putting the phone down on the table. "Am I even enough to deserve all of this? You- am I enough to deserve you?"
Akira’s chest constricted at those words. She wanted to tell Saint that she was enough, that she had always been enough. But she knew that wasn’t something that could be fixed with words alone. All Akira could do was be there, to show Saint the love and care she deserved.
"I’m sorry," Akira whispered, her voice filled with raw emotion. "I’m sorry you’ve been hurt like this. You don’t deserve any of it."
Saint turned her face to Akira, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. "I don’t know what to do with all these feelings. I don’t even know who I am anymore after everything that’s happened."
Akira’s heart broke again. Saint had been strong for so long, but now she was crumbling, and Akira didn’t know how to fix it. All she could do was hold her and offer the comfort she needed.
"You don’t have to have all the answers," Akira said softly, her voice steady. "You just have to take it one moment at a time. And I’ll be here for you through all of it."
Saint closed her eyes, tears finally slipping down her cheeks. Akira immediately pulled her into a tight embrace, not saying a word. She simply held her, letting Saint cry as much as she needed to.
For a long while, there were no words. Only the steady sound of Akira’s heartbeat and the gentle sobs of the girl in her arms.
Later that evening, Akira helped Saint to bed, keeping her close. Saint had fallen asleep in her arms, the weight of the day finally catching up to her. She had been through so much, and Akira wished she could take away all the pain. But for now, all she could do was be there, offering comfort when it was needed most.
Akira stayed by Saint’s side until she was certain the girl had fallen into a peaceful sleep. Then, quietly, Akira slipped out of bed and went to the small balcony off the bedroom to clear her mind.
The cool night air helped calm her racing thoughts, but it didn’t help her sense of uncertainty. As much as she wanted to believe that something might happen between her and Saint, Akira knew that now was not the time. Saint had just been through a betrayal from those she trusted most, and Akira couldn’t be selfish about her own feelings, not now. Saint needed time to heal.
But still, as she gazed out into the night sky, Akira couldn’t deny the deep ache in her heart, the longing for something more, even though she knew it wasn’t the right moment.
As the night stretched on, Akira remained at the edge of the balcony, her eyes fixed on the city lights that twinkled beneath the dark sky. The cool breeze rustled her hair, but it did little to calm the turmoil swirling within her chest. She had never wanted things to be like this. She had always hoped that Saint would one day see her for what she truly was—someone who could be there for her, not just as a sister, but as someone who loved her. But now, after everything that had transpired, Akira knew she couldn’t force that. Saint needed time, healing, and perhaps the space to figure out what she truly wanted.
Akira had been patient for so long, but the sight of Saint’s vulnerability, her pain, left her torn. She couldn’t help but wonder if she had been too patient, too silent, for too long. Maybe she should have been more upfront about her feelings, about how much she cared for Saint all along. But, no. Now wasn’t the time for regret. Not when Saint needed her most.
Akira let out a long sigh, one that seemed to carry the weight of all the unspoken emotions she had been holding onto for years.
She stayed out there for what felt like hours, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. There were so many things left unsaid between her and Saint, so many questions that lingered in the air. But for now, all Akira could do was offer her silent support and hope that one day, maybe, she would be able to speak her truth.
When she finally went back inside, the house was quiet, save for the soft sound of Saint’s breathing coming from the bedroom. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a pale glow across the room. Saint looked peaceful, her features relaxed, her body curled slightly under the blankets as if seeking warmth. Akira stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of her, the girl she had loved for so long, the girl who had been through so much, and yet still had a softness to her that could melt anyone’s heart.
Slowly, Akira approached the bed and sat down on the edge, her gaze never leaving Saint. She wanted to reach out, to touch her, but she knew better. Saint needed space.
Akira gently brushed a strand of hair away from Saint’s face and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I’ll always be here," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Whenever you’re ready."
The words were not just for Saint—they were for herself as well. Akira knew that no matter what happened, she would be there for Saint. Whether it was as a friend, a sister, or something more, she would be by her side. But only when Saint was ready to make her own choices, to heal from the betrayal that had shattered her trust.
The days that followed were quiet but filled with a sense of subtle change. Saint seemed to be finding her footing again, though there were moments of sadness that would creep in unexpectedly. Akira was right there, picking up the pieces, always offering a listening ear when Saint needed to talk. It was strange to see Saint not being the one who always had to be strong, and Akira couldn’t help but wonder if the balance in their relationship would ever shift.
One evening, after Saint had spent most of the day resting, she looked at Akira with a tired smile. "Thanks for staying with me," she said quietly, her voice filled with gratitude. "I don’t know how I would have gotten through all of this without you."
Akira smiled back, though her heart ached a little at the words. "You never had to go through it alone," she replied softly. "I’ve always got your back, no matter what."
Saint’s gaze softened, her eyes lingering on Akira for a moment longer than usual. It was a moment of silent understanding, one that spoke volumes. There was something unspoken between them, a connection that neither of them could deny. But Saint wasn’t ready to voice her own feelings yet. Akira knew that. She couldn’t push her. Not now.
The following week, Akira received a call from Maki. It had been days since their confrontation, and although Akira had made it clear to Maki that she wasn’t welcome in the house, Maki still insisted on talking. Akira reluctantly agreed to meet her, hoping that maybe Maki would finally take responsibility for what she had done.
When they met at a small coffee shop, Akira was surprised to find Maki looking exhausted, her face pale and drawn. She had clearly been crying, and the usual confidence that Maki exuded seemed to have evaporated.
"I know I messed up," Maki started, her voice shaky. "I’ve hurt Saint so much, and I don’t know how to make it right."
Akira crossed her arms, her expression hard. "You can’t make it right, Maki," she said firmly. "You betrayed her, not just once, but multiple times. And you did it with her best friend. I don’t know what you expected, but this isn’t something that can be fixed with apologies."
Maki looked down, her shoulders sagging in defeat. "I know. I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did it. I was selfish, and I hurt her. But… I still love her, Akira. I know I messed up, but I don’t want to lose her. I don’t want to lose us."
Akira’s heart clenched. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard Maki say she loved Saint. But now, the words felt hollow. It was clear that Maki’s actions had proven otherwise.
"I don’t know what to say to you, Maki," Akira admitted, her voice quieter now. "I know you love her, but it’s too late. Saint’s been hurt, and she needs time. You can’t just expect everything to be okay after what you’ve done. She deserves better than this. Better than you."
Maki was silent, her eyes filled with unshed tears. Akira could see the regret in her, but it wasn’t enough to undo the damage.
"I just… I don’t know what to do anymore," Maki whispered, almost pleading.
Akira stood up, her hands shaking with frustration. "You start by leaving her alone. Let her heal. And then, maybe, you can think about making things right. But don’t expect it to happen overnight."
Akira left Maki sitting there, staring after her. There was no closure, no easy answers. But Akira knew that sometimes, the best thing to do was to walk away and give someone the space to figure out their own mistakes.
That night, Akira returned home to Saint, who was sitting on the couch, a book in hand but clearly distracted. The tension in the air was palpable, but it wasn’t the kind of tension Akira was used to. This was different—subtle, yet undeniably there.
"How’d it go?" Saint asked, looking up from the book with a soft smile.
Akira shrugged, trying to keep the emotions at bay. "Same old. She’s sorry, but it’s not enough. I don’t think she understands what she did."
Saint nodded, her expression thoughtful. "It’s going to take a long time for me to forgive her. Maybe even longer for myself."
Akira sat down beside her, her hand instinctively finding Saint’s. "Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere."
And for the first time in a long while, Saint allowed herself to lean on Akira—completely, fully. It was a small moment, but to Akira, it meant the world.
The days after Akira's confrontation with Maki were long, drawn-out, and emotionally exhausting for both Akira and Saint. Saint’s healing process was slow, but it had started. There were still moments when she seemed distant, lost in thought, or caught off guard by flashes of anger or sadness. Akira remained a constant presence by her side, offering the comfort of her company without pressuring Saint to talk before she was ready.
Akira had hoped that Maki would come to terms with the gravity of her actions. But deep down, Akira knew that Maki's love for Saint wasn’t enough to erase the betrayal. Even if Maki begged for Saint's forgiveness, there would always be a distance, a break in their trust that could never fully heal. What Maki had done was irreparable, and no apology could take away the hurt.
Despite that, Saint wasn’t completely closed off to the idea of forgiveness. She just wasn’t ready yet. She had a lot to process, and even more to question. Where did Maki’s love truly stand? Was it enough to fight for, or was it too late?
One evening, as Akira prepared dinner in the kitchen, she could hear Saint talking to herself from the living room, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why do I still feel this pull?" Saint said, almost to herself, as she stared out of the window. "Why can’t I let go?"
Akira paused, her heart aching as she silently listened. She had heard these words before, in moments of weakness when Saint’s guard was down. She wasn’t just grieving the loss of a relationship with Maki; she was grieving the loss of herself.
Akira set the knife down on the counter and walked to the living room, her steps slow, measured. Saint hadn’t noticed her approach, and when Akira stood beside her, she hesitated. "Princess," she finally said, her voice gentle. "It’s okay to not have all the answers right now. It’s okay to feel confused."
Saint’s eyes flickered to Akira, a mix of pain and gratitude in her gaze. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before looking down. "I just don’t know how to move on from this. Everything feels so... heavy, Akira. And yet, there’s a part of me that wants to go back and make it work with Maki. Why is that?"
Akira sat beside her, wrapping her arm around Saint’s shoulders as if to offer a silent promise that she wouldn’t let her fall into the weight of that confusion alone. "Because you loved her," Akira said softly. "And love isn’t something you can just turn off, even if it’s unhealthy. You’re not just grieving the relationship—you’re grieving what you thought it was supposed to be. And that’s okay, too."
Saint let out a shaky breath, resting her head on Akira’s shoulder. "I thought we had something real, you know? Something that could withstand anything. But now… it feels like everything I believed in was a lie."
Akira squeezed her tightly, kissing the top of her head. "It wasn’t a lie. It was real. But sometimes people grow apart, or they make mistakes they can’t take back. What matters is that you know your worth. That you don’t let anyone make you feel small or unimportant."
Saint pulled away slightly, looking at Akira, her eyes soft but searching. "And what about you, Akira?" she asked quietly. "What do you want?"
The question hung in the air for a long moment, and Akira felt her heart thump painfully in her chest. She had known this moment would come—knew that eventually, Saint would have to confront the truth of her own feelings for Akira.
Akira swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling her vulnerability rise like a tide. "I want you to be happy, Saint. I want you to find peace, whether that’s with Maki or with someone else. And if that someone else is me, then that’s something I’ll be grateful for. But I won’t pressure you into anything. You have to make that decision when you’re ready. Not because I want it, but because you deserve it."
Saint’s gaze softened, and Akira could see the silent struggle in her eyes. There was so much left unspoken, so many emotions swirling just beneath the surface. Akira knew that Saint wasn’t ready to make a choice—not yet. But that was okay. Akira would wait. She had already waited so long.
"You’ve been amazing through all of this," Saint said, her voice cracking a little. "I don’t deserve someone like you."
Akira smiled, brushing her hair out of her face. "You deserve someone who will love you completely, Saint. Just like I do. But right now, the most important thing is for you to love yourself again. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere."
Saint’s lip trembled, and she leaned in, pressing her forehead to Akira’s. "Thank you."
Akira closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of Saint’s touch. "Always."
The next day, the atmosphere in the apartment was quieter than usual, and Saint seemed lost in thought. Akira noticed that Saint was pacing around the apartment, her steps agitated, as if she were trying to work through something in her mind.
"You okay?" Akira asked, looking up from the book she was reading.
Saint stopped in her tracks, her brow furrowed as she turned toward Akira. "I need to talk to Maki. To really talk to her."
Akira set her book down, concern flashing in her eyes. "Princess, are you sure? After everything that happened… I just don’t want you to get hurt again."
Saint nodded, her face determined. "I have to do this, Akira. I have to face her, not for her, but for me. I need to close that chapter, once and for all."
Akira stood up and walked over to Saint, cupping her face gently. "Then I’ll be right here, waiting for you. No matter what happens."
Saint leaned into her touch, her eyes softening. "Thank you, Akira. For everything."
Akira watched as Saint walked out of the door, the weight of the decision hanging heavily in the air. She had made the right choice to face Maki, but Akira couldn’t help but wonder how it would all turn out. She had always known that Saint was strong, but this was a different kind of strength. It was the strength to let go, to forgive, and to move forward, even if it meant stepping away from the person she once thought was everything.
Akira’s heart ached with a quiet hope. She had given Saint all the space she needed, all the time she deserved. But now, in this moment, she realized something.
She wasn’t just waiting for Saint to heal. She was waiting for Saint to realize that the love she had been seeking had been there all along, quietly standing by her side, loving her without question, without hesitation.
And when the day came when Saint finally saw that, Akira would be there—just as she always had been.
The next few days passed with a bittersweet calm. Saint had left the apartment early that morning, after exchanging a quiet but meaningful glance with Akira. She had made her decision. Maki needed to be confronted, and Saint needed to understand if she could truly forgive her—if she even wanted to. It was a complicated, tangled mess of emotions, but Saint knew it was a necessary step for her healing.
Akira, though anxious, stayed behind. She wasn’t the type to overburden Saint, and she knew this was something Saint needed to do alone. But that didn’t mean her heart didn’t ache. It did. Akira had never wanted anything more than Saint’s happiness, but it was becoming clear that no matter how much Akira loved her, Saint needed to find her own path before she could move forward.
Akira spent the day trying to keep busy—cleaning, reading, and even trying to call her friends—but everything felt distant. She couldn’t help but wonder how things were going. Was Saint talking to Maki? Was Maki apologizing or blaming Saint for everything? Did it even matter at this point?
She was snapped from her thoughts when she heard the door open.
Saint stood there in the doorway, her shoulders slumped, her eyes tired but resolute. The tension in the air was palpable, and Akira immediately stood up, her heart racing.
"Princess," she said softly, but Saint didn’t respond right away. She just stepped inside, her footsteps heavy, almost like a burden she had been carrying for too long. She paused before sitting down on the couch, her gaze distant.
Akira hesitated, then sat beside her, waiting for Saint to speak first.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Saint spoke in a quiet voice that barely broke the silence. "I did it. I talked to Maki."
Akira’s heart skipped a beat, though she kept her expression calm. "And...?"
Saint shook her head, her hand nervously pulling at the sleeve of Akira’s jacket she had been wearing all day. "She didn’t apologize. Not really. It was like she was trying to justify what she did, blaming it all on the fact that she ‘didn’t feel seen by me anymore,’ or that I was too wrapped up in my own world to notice. And Josiah… she was there too. Trying to act like she was so sorry, but I could tell it wasn’t genuine."
Akira’s heart broke for Saint. She had hoped for something different, some kind of closure, but it seemed like Maki wasn’t ready to take full accountability for the hurt she had caused. "I’m sorry, princess," Akira said quietly, her hand gently resting on Saint’s. "I really thought Maki would show some remorse."
Saint let out a shaky breath, tears threatening to spill as she closed her eyes. "I thought she’d understand. I wanted her to. But now I realize… it’s not just about what she did. It’s about what I didn’t do. I ignored my own heart because I was so afraid of losing her, but I was already losing myself in the process."
Akira squeezed her hand, her heart aching for her friend. "You weren’t losing yourself, Saint. You just weren’t listening to the part of you that knew better. You didn’t deserve any of this. Maki made her choices, and now it’s time to make yours."
Saint nodded, the weight of everything she had endured starting to show in her eyes. "I need to let go, Akira. I need to let go of Maki, of everything that was broken between us. I need to take care of myself, and I need to figure out what I really want. And I can’t keep holding on to the past because I’m scared of facing what comes next."
Akira smiled softly, her heart swelling with both sadness and pride. "You’re so strong, Saint. I’m proud of you. I know it’s not easy, but you’ll get through this. You’re not alone."
Saint turned to face her, her eyes softening. "I know. I know you’re here, Akira. And I’m so grateful for that."
The moment was quiet, but the bond between them was undeniable. Akira had always been there, always ready to listen, always ready to offer her support. But for the first time in a long while, Saint was beginning to see that maybe, just maybe, the person who had been there all along was the one who had been holding a place for her in her heart the entire time.
"Thank you," Saint said, her voice barely a whisper.
Akira leaned in, her forehead resting against Saint’s for a moment. "You don’t need to thank me.”
Saint sighed, her hand reaching up to touch Akira’s cheek. "I don’t know what I would’ve done without you."
"You’ll never have to find out," Akira replied with a smile, but deep down, she knew the true weight of those words. No matter what happened next, she wouldn’t let Saint go. Not now. Not ever.
As the days passed, Akira continued to be Saint’s rock, her constant companion. There were still moments of sadness and confusion, moments when Saint questioned everything that had happened, but Akira remained steady beside her, patiently waiting for Saint to find her path.
Then one evening, a week after Saint’s confrontation with Maki, as they sat together in the apartment, Saint finally turned to Akira and spoke the words that had been lingering in her heart for so long.
"Akira," she said, her voice soft but certain. "I need to ask you something."
Akira turned to her, her heart beating faster. "Anything."
Saint paused, searching Akira’s face as if she were looking for some kind of sign, some kind of reassurance. Then, with a deep breath, she finally asked, "Do you still want to be with me?"
Akira’s heart stopped for a moment, her mind racing with emotions. This was the moment she had been waiting for, yet feared at the same time. She wanted to say yes, she wanted to tell Saint that she had always wanted her, but it wasn’t about wanting. It was about Saint wanting herself first.
"I do," Akira whispered, her voice filled with love and hope. "But only when you’re ready. I’ve always wanted you, but I want you to choose me, not out of guilt or confusion, but because you know in your heart that it’s right. You deserve that, Saint. You deserve to choose for yourself."
Saint smiled, her eyes filled with a mixture of relief and uncertainty. "I think I’m starting to choose myself, Akira.."
“ ...And I’ve decided to choose you as well, Akira Arceta.”
Akira’s heart soared as she pulled Saint into an embrace, holding her tightly, as if she could keep her from ever slipping away.
Saint closed her eyes, her arms wrapping around Akira in return, feeling the warmth of her embrace seep into her soul. For the first time in a long time, she felt like everything was going to be okay. She didn’t need to have all the answers, didn’t need to know what would happen next. She only knew one thing—she wasn’t alone anymore. And that made all the difference.
Akira’s heart swelled with both sadness and pride. She knew how much this had cost Saint, how much it had taken for her to come to this decision. But she also knew it was the right one.
"I’m so proud of you," Akira said softly, stepping back and taking Saint’s hands in hers. "You deserve someone who sees you, who values you. And if that person happens to be me, then I’ll be here. But if you still need time… I’m here for that too."
Saint smiled, the sincerity in Akira’s words grounding her. "I don’t need time anymore, Akira. I’ve already wasted enough time not being honest with myself. I’ve been in love with you for so long, but I guess I chose to not acknowledge it since I was still with your sister back then."
Akira’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide in disbelief. "Saint…" She couldn’t even finish the sentence, her heart suddenly too full of emotion.
Saint’s hands reach up to gently cup Akira’s face. "I’m in love with you, Akira. I don’t know how it happened or when, but I know it’s real. I know it’s not because of everything that happened with Maki or Josiah. It’s because of you. It’s always been you."
The words hung in the air between them, a silent understanding passing between their gazes. Akira’s heart soared, her hands trembling as she placed them over Saint’s. She had dreamed of this moment, but now that it was happening, she wasn’t sure what to say. She had always known Saint’s worth, had always loved her, but hearing it—hearing those words from Saint—felt like the world had shifted.
"I really didn't expect that we'd end up here like this," Akira whispered, her voice cracking slightly. "I've been crushing on you since fifth grade, Saint. I wanted you for so long that it hurts, but thank Lord that He gave me the patience to wait for you."
Saint smiled, her thumbs gently brushing against Akira’s cheek. "I’m sorry it took me so long to see what was right in front of me. I guess I was too scared of losing something I thought I had in Maki, but now I know what I've been really looking for."
The air between them seemed to crackle with energy, and Saint closed the gap between them, her lips brushing against Akira’s in a kiss that felt like it had been years in the making. It was gentle at first, tentative, as if both of them were testing the waters. But then, as the world around them fell away, it deepened, growing with the passion and the emotion they had both been holding inside for so long.
When they finally pulled away, their foreheads resting against each other, Akira couldn’t stop smiling. "I never thought I’d be here with you," she said softly, her hands tracing the outline of Saint’s face. "But I’m so glad I am."
Saint’s eyes shone with a tenderness that made Akira’s heart swell. "Me too, Akira."
For the first time in a long time, Saint felt like she was on solid ground. She wasn’t holding on to past hurts or old fears. She was ready to embrace the future, whatever it might bring, as long as Akira was by her side.
Akira squeezed her hand, her voice filled with quiet determination. "And I’m ready for whatever comes too, princess. We’ll do this together."
The next few days were filled with quiet moments and shared conversations—moments that Saint had always longed for but never thought she could have. With Akira, everything felt like it was slowly falling into place. They spent their days exploring new parts of their city, finding hidden spots they had never noticed before, laughing until their stomachs hurt. It wasn’t perfect, and there would always be struggles along the way, but it was real.
And that was enough.
Saint finally felt like she was living her truth—not in the shadow of a past relationship, but in the light of the future she was beginning to build with someone who saw her for who she was, who loved her with a tenderness and care that had always been there, waiting to be returned.
And for once, Saint felt like she was enough.
She was enough for Akira.
And Akira was enough for her.