Summary: At first glance, Ken Sato seemed to have it all. With money, fame, and success surrounding his name, there was nothing he couldn't get his hands on. They say money can buy happiness. That may be true to an extent, however, can money buy forgiveness? Unfortunately for Ken, no amount of money and influence can turn back time and change the past. No amount of bribery can erase the fact that he had chosen to abandon his wife in favor of pursuing his baseball career. That awful decision he made took place five years ago, when he was just starting out as a professional athlete. But now that he's matured and had time to reflect on his actions, can he hope for a chance to rekindle his marriage? Or should he accept defeat and live with the consequences of letting the only woman he's ever truly loved slip away from him?
Warnings: mentions of divorce, rejection, sadness
Word count: around 2,200 words
Author's notes: comments and reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on
Side Note : This fic, and everything else Iāve written on my blog is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.
āSorry, canāt talk right now. Call you later.ā
A familiar wave of disappointment settled in your stomach at those words, remembering it all too well. That message had been sent five years ago, but the ache it caused still felt fresh. That was the time your car had broken down and you were left waiting on the side of the road, trying to get ahold of Kenji. He was in the middle of a meet and greet, so despite the constant vibrating from his phone, he didnāt answer it. It was understandable, people wouldāve gotten mad if he was occupied with his phone when they were paying for his attention. But no matter his justifiable excuse, you were still left there with a flat tire and an unresponsive husband.
By the time Kenji was done and finally called back, your parents had already taken care of it. Your mom had picked you up, while your dad took care of the car, hooking it to his truck and towing it back to your house.
When Kenji sped home, he was met with the sight of his father-in-law sitting on the driveway, checking the tire pressure of your car. Kenji already felt embarrassed as he approached him, but after seeing the look of disapproval in your fatherās eyes, he knew the fondness the man once held for him was lessened from it.
You remember the way heād apologized countless times after that incident, promising to be better, to answer his phone next time there was an emergency.
But when next time came around, he must not have noticed the notification, that or he didnāt think replying to your text about āWhat do you want for dinner?ā qualified as an emergency.
āSorry. The meeting went on longer than expected, I wonāt be home for dinner.ā
But youād already finished cooking by the time he answered. So, routinely, his portion went into the fridge; only to be thrown out a week later since he kept forgetting to take it to practice.
āSorry, Iām busy, call you in a few minutes.ā
Even now, five years later, scrolling through those old messages brought back a sense of anguish youād tried so hard to forget.
Another missed call, another no show, another chip away at your parentās approval of him, and your willingness to forgive his repeated behavior.
Your phone was full of old promises, receipts of a past marriage that went downhill so quickly, and unexpectedly.
Kenji had always been so easy to like. He was charismatic, passionate, humorous. He was the kind of person to make you laugh after crying, someone who could easily put your mind at ease when youād been through a stressful day. Thatās why you fell in love with him in the first place, because with him, everything felt so easy, so right.
Kenji was someone who devoted all of his time and energy into the things he cared about, and when you were included in that list of things, life couldnāt have been better.
But then his baseball career took off, unexpectedly, suddenly, and thatās where the decline began.
As you continued looking back at those old messages, a particularly painful one emerged on the screen: the last one he sent before the divorce.
āCanāt talk. In a press conference. Be home later.ā
Why did you even bother? It was always the same answer whenever he was on a work trip. Never answering his phone, never calling back, or if he did it was never to ask how you were doing. Instead, it was always a rushed ādid you need something?ā As if a wife couldnāt call her husband simply because she missed his presence.
Heād been gone for almost two weeks now, a sponsored tour of the bay area to promote the upcoming championship for the Los Angeles Dodgers. His job was to get people excited and eager to support the team, to get more views and ticket sellouts, to get people to buy more merchandise and donate more money to the foundation. He was the bait that lured fans into the stadium, they came to see him, and thatās what kept the money coming in.
You knew he was busy; his managers were always moving him from one event to the next. Practices, charity events, fundraisers, fan events, interviews, meetings, game conferences, it was always one thing after another. He was always busy, always moving, always shelling out excuses as to why he couldnāt be there for you, or why he couldnāt show up to any events besides his own.
Did he even remember that day was your wedding anniversary? You knew youād be spending it alone due to his work trip, but still, even a simple āhappy anniversaryā text wouldāve been nice. Or maybe a package in the mail, or a delivery order of your favorite meal sent to the house. It wouldāve taken five minutes to put in the information, he couldāve done it from his phone no matter where he was. And itās not like he didnāt have the moneyā¦ just clearly not the thoughtfulness.
That day was supposed to be a celebration, a testament to the successful commitment of a marriage for one whole year. And yetā¦ that marriage was the farthest thing from functional.
You couldnāt stand it anymore. Marriage was a partnership, not this silly roommate charade you had been playing with Kenji. When he was home, and when you actually had his attention, it was as if things were back to normal again, as if that lovable man you first fell in love with had come home. And you could finally relax, feeling loved and appreciated in his embrace.
But that version of your husband hadnāt come home, not for a while, and the one who replaced him was arrogant, selfish, ignorant. Ā
His passion for baseball had turned into a gluttonous endeavor. It was no longer about doing what he loved and instead about proving his superiority. Heād become obsessed with the need to boast about his abilities, to maintain his spot on the top. The desire kept building, he kept feeding it until he became drunk, until it was all that mattered to him.Ā
The generous and compassionate man youād started your marriage with had been replaced with this self-centered replica; and at the rate things were going, it was clear he wouldnāt be coming back for a long time, if ever.
Maybe you shouldāve hung on longer than a year, maybe you shouldāve forgiven him for forgetting about you so often, maybe you were just being dramatic. Ā
Either way, it didnāt really matter now. The past is past, the present is what needed your attention now.
So, after closing out your messages, you opened the car door and stepped out, making your way towards the elementary school grounds, putting on a smile for the little girl you knew was waiting up ahead.
Ā
āSo? How did it go? Did you talk to her?ā Ā
āNot really.ā Kenji sighed, leaning against the window frame, watching the rain trail down the glass. āI caught up to her in the parking lot, but she had somewhere to be, so we didnāt talk for very long.ā
Ā āDid you ask to meet up with her another time?ā
Ā āI did. She said sheās busy so she canāt.ā Kenji held the phone against his ear, watching the cars pass by on the street below, the people talking in the restaurant across the street. Everyone else looked happy, like they had somewhere to be. It was like everyone else was moving forward, progressing, but he was stuck here. Stuck in this silent hotel room, looking out over a city he used to call home; a city that he used to take pride in. But now he just felt guilt, bitterness, regret. Just looking at that restaurant down the street, the one he used to eat at with her, it made him want to hide. He felt like a nuisance here, like he was walking around with a sign above his head that spelt āoutsider.ā
Ā It made him want to give up, to admit defeat.
Ā What was he even thinking? Why did he come back here? Why did he think this was gonna be easy? That she was going to forgive him and take him back immediately. It was stupid, unrealistic, but he couldnāt help but hope. He thought theyād be able to sit down and talk like old times, like two souls reuniting in the perfect timing of fate. Theyād drink their coffee and heād stare at her as she sat across from him, remembering all the reasons he fell for her in the first place; all the reasons he asked her to marry him. He foolishly clung to that expectation, like it was some attainable goal, like he hadnāt been a neglectful husband.
Ā But then his foolish dreams were diminished with her blatant rejection.
Ā She couldāve made time for him, even just an hour. But she didnāt. Not because she couldnāt, but because she didnāt want to. And he couldnāt blame her.
Ā Maybe this was a mistake, maybe he shouldnāt have come back. Maybe thatās why he felt so out of place here, because he was intervening, trying to change fate when the reality was that she was better off without him.
Ā What if that was true?
Ā Sheād been doing well after all, hadnāt she? Best-selling author, an accomplishment like that doesnāt come without hard work. She clearly hadnāt been miserably heart broken in these past five years, she wasnāt moping around, dwelling on the what ifs of the past. She was excelling, moving forward, just like everyone else. Everyone, except him.
Ā Maybe he really should let her go.
Ā āThen ask her again.ā
Ā His fatherās voice came through the speaker, snapping Kenji out of his self-deprecating thoughts. He readjusted himself, standing up straight now, pushing away from the windowsill and walking around the room. āDonāt you think thatāll just annoy her?ā
Ā āYou donāt have to annoy her, or be disrespectful about it. What she wants is to see that youāre pursuing her, to see that youāre serious about wanting to rekindle the relationship.ā āØāØKenji paced slowly around the hotel room, taking in his fatherās words. āBut what if she just keeps rejecting me?ā
Ā āSheās just testing you right now. She needs to see that youāre committed to her. She canāt come to a decision yet when she doesnāt know if she can trust you again.ā
Ā Kenji makes his way towards the bed, listening to his father speak as he sits down. He slouches, feet settling on the floor, holding the phone loosely against his ear. āBut what if she never comes to that decision?ā He looked down, his posture filled with doubt, with insecurity. āWhat if Iām wasting my time, Dad?ā
Ā āThen waste it.ā His father spoke, a sense of finality filling his tone. āBecause sheās worth wasting it for.ā
Ā Kenji went silent for a moment, taking in those words, realizing the truth in them. Even if his effort didnāt end in remarriage, she was worth the time he was taking to pursue her. This wasnāt a transactional relationship; he wasnāt just doing this to soothe his ego. He was doing this because he loved her, because he wanted the chance to be with her again, permanently this time. He flew across the world not to earn her back as some sort of achievement, but to make up for the way he treated her. Because she deserves an apology, she deserves his effort, even if he doesnāt receive hers in return.
Ā This wasnāt about him, this wasnāt about gaining anything for himself. Heād forgotten that. This was about taking accountability, righting his wrongs. He wasnāt the same arrogant and selfish man sheād experienced five years ago, he wasnāt the man sheād divorced. He had to show her that. Even if she doesnāt take him back, even if he was flying single back to Japan at the end of the week, he needed her to know that he changed.
Ā āYouāre right. Iāll do it, Iāll ask her again.ā
Ā āGood.ā His father smiled to himself, nodding as he held the phone against his ear. āJust be yourself, okay? And just keep trying, donāt give up so soon.ā
Ā āI wonāt.ā Kenjiās expression softened, a smile spreading across his lips. āThanks, Dad.ā
Ā āYouāre welcome, son.ā
Ā Kenji slowly stood up again, saying his goodbyes to his father before he hung up the phone. He walked back over to the window, staring out it once more, looking at the familiar city with a newly self-assured outlook this time. The city lights were gleaming, the rain had started to clear up now.
Ā This wasnāt going to be easy, that much was true. But maybe it isnāt supposed to be, because nothing that comes easy is ever worthwhile. Ā Ā
If you want to be tagged in any of my works, whether it's for a certain series, fandom, or character, please let me know in the comments below. :)
Keep in mind that commenting to tell me what you liked, what you don't, how I can improve, and any suggestions you have, helps me A LOT more than simply liking my posts. If you've had the time to read my story, how much longer does it take to leave me some feedback on it? :)
Summary: At first glance, Ken Sato seemed to have it all. With money, fame, and success surrounding his name, there was nothing he couldn't get his hands on. They say money can buy happiness. That may be true to an extent, however, can money buy forgiveness? Unfortunately for Ken, no amount of money and influence can turn back time and change the past. No amount of bribery can erase the fact that he had chosen to abandon his wife in favor of pursuing his baseball career. That awful decision he made took place five years ago, when he was just starting out as a professional athlete. But now that he's matured and had time to reflect on his actions, can he hope for a chance to rekindle his marriage? Or should he accept defeat and live with the consequences of letting the only woman he's ever truly loved slip away from him?
Warnings: mentions of divorce, rejection, sadness
Word count: around 2,200 words
Author's notes: comments and reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on
Side Note : This fic, and everything else Iāve written on my blog is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.
āSorry, canāt talk right now. Call you later.ā
A familiar wave of disappointment settled in your stomach at those words, remembering it all too well. That message had been sent five years ago, but the ache it caused still felt fresh. That was the time your car had broken down and you were left waiting on the side of the road, trying to get ahold of Kenji. He was in the middle of a meet and greet, so despite the constant vibrating from his phone, he didnāt answer it. It was understandable, people wouldāve gotten mad if he was occupied with his phone when they were paying for his attention. But no matter his justifiable excuse, you were still left there with a flat tire and an unresponsive husband.
By the time Kenji was done and finally called back, your parents had already taken care of it. Your mom had picked you up, while your dad took care of the car, hooking it to his truck and towing it back to your house.
When Kenji sped home, he was met with the sight of his father-in-law sitting on the driveway, checking the tire pressure of your car. Kenji already felt embarrassed as he approached him, but after seeing the look of disapproval in your fatherās eyes, he knew the fondness the man once held for him was lessened from it.
You remember the way heād apologized countless times after that incident, promising to be better, to answer his phone next time there was an emergency.
But when next time came around, he must not have noticed the notification, that or he didnāt think replying to your text about āWhat do you want for dinner?ā qualified as an emergency.
āSorry. The meeting went on longer than expected, I wonāt be home for dinner.ā
But youād already finished cooking by the time he answered. So, routinely, his portion went into the fridge; only to be thrown out a week later since he kept forgetting to take it to practice.
āSorry, Iām busy, call you in a few minutes.ā
Even now, five years later, scrolling through those old messages brought back a sense of anguish youād tried so hard to forget.
Another missed call, another no show, another chip away at your parentās approval of him, and your willingness to forgive his repeated behavior.
Your phone was full of old promises, receipts of a past marriage that went downhill so quickly, and unexpectedly.
Kenji had always been so easy to like. He was charismatic, passionate, humorous. He was the kind of person to make you laugh after crying, someone who could easily put your mind at ease when youād been through a stressful day. Thatās why you fell in love with him in the first place, because with him, everything felt so easy, so right.
Kenji was someone who devoted all of his time and energy into the things he cared about, and when you were included in that list of things, life couldnāt have been better.
But then his baseball career took off, unexpectedly, suddenly, and thatās where the decline began.
As you continued looking back at those old messages, a particularly painful one emerged on the screen: the last one he sent before the divorce.
āCanāt talk. In a press conference. Be home later.ā
Why did you even bother? It was always the same answer whenever he was on a work trip. Never answering his phone, never calling back, or if he did it was never to ask how you were doing. Instead, it was always a rushed ādid you need something?ā As if a wife couldnāt call her husband simply because she missed his presence.
Heād been gone for almost two weeks now, a sponsored tour of the bay area to promote the upcoming championship for the Los Angeles Dodgers. His job was to get people excited and eager to support the team, to get more views and ticket sellouts, to get people to buy more merchandise and donate more money to the foundation. He was the bait that lured fans into the stadium, they came to see him, and thatās what kept the money coming in.
You knew he was busy; his managers were always moving him from one event to the next. Practices, charity events, fundraisers, fan events, interviews, meetings, game conferences, it was always one thing after another. He was always busy, always moving, always shelling out excuses as to why he couldnāt be there for you, or why he couldnāt show up to any events besides his own.
Did he even remember that day was your wedding anniversary? You knew youād be spending it alone due to his work trip, but still, even a simple āhappy anniversaryā text wouldāve been nice. Or maybe a package in the mail, or a delivery order of your favorite meal sent to the house. It wouldāve taken five minutes to put in the information, he couldāve done it from his phone no matter where he was. And itās not like he didnāt have the moneyā¦ just clearly not the thoughtfulness.
That day was supposed to be a celebration, a testament to the successful commitment of a marriage for one whole year. And yetā¦ that marriage was the farthest thing from functional.
You couldnāt stand it anymore. Marriage was a partnership, not this silly roommate charade you had been playing with Kenji. When he was home, and when you actually had his attention, it was as if things were back to normal again, as if that lovable man you first fell in love with had come home. And you could finally relax, feeling loved and appreciated in his embrace.
But that version of your husband hadnāt come home, not for a while, and the one who replaced him was arrogant, selfish, ignorant. Ā
His passion for baseball had turned into a gluttonous endeavor. It was no longer about doing what he loved and instead about proving his superiority. Heād become obsessed with the need to boast about his abilities, to maintain his spot on the top. The desire kept building, he kept feeding it until he became drunk, until it was all that mattered to him.Ā
The generous and compassionate man youād started your marriage with had been replaced with this self-centered replica; and at the rate things were going, it was clear he wouldnāt be coming back for a long time, if ever.
Maybe you shouldāve hung on longer than a year, maybe you shouldāve forgiven him for forgetting about you so often, maybe you were just being dramatic. Ā
Either way, it didnāt really matter now. The past is past, the present is what needed your attention now.
So, after closing out your messages, you opened the car door and stepped out, making your way towards the elementary school grounds, putting on a smile for the little girl you knew was waiting up ahead.
Ā
āSo? How did it go? Did you talk to her?ā Ā
āNot really.ā Kenji sighed, leaning against the window frame, watching the rain trail down the glass. āI caught up to her in the parking lot, but she had somewhere to be, so we didnāt talk for very long.ā
Ā āDid you ask to meet up with her another time?ā
Ā āI did. She said sheās busy so she canāt.ā Kenji held the phone against his ear, watching the cars pass by on the street below, the people talking in the restaurant across the street. Everyone else looked happy, like they had somewhere to be. It was like everyone else was moving forward, progressing, but he was stuck here. Stuck in this silent hotel room, looking out over a city he used to call home; a city that he used to take pride in. But now he just felt guilt, bitterness, regret. Just looking at that restaurant down the street, the one he used to eat at with her, it made him want to hide. He felt like a nuisance here, like he was walking around with a sign above his head that spelt āoutsider.ā
Ā It made him want to give up, to admit defeat.
Ā What was he even thinking? Why did he come back here? Why did he think this was gonna be easy? That she was going to forgive him and take him back immediately. It was stupid, unrealistic, but he couldnāt help but hope. He thought theyād be able to sit down and talk like old times, like two souls reuniting in the perfect timing of fate. Theyād drink their coffee and heād stare at her as she sat across from him, remembering all the reasons he fell for her in the first place; all the reasons he asked her to marry him. He foolishly clung to that expectation, like it was some attainable goal, like he hadnāt been a neglectful husband.
Ā But then his foolish dreams were diminished with her blatant rejection.
Ā She couldāve made time for him, even just an hour. But she didnāt. Not because she couldnāt, but because she didnāt want to. And he couldnāt blame her.
Ā Maybe this was a mistake, maybe he shouldnāt have come back. Maybe thatās why he felt so out of place here, because he was intervening, trying to change fate when the reality was that she was better off without him.
Ā What if that was true?
Ā Sheād been doing well after all, hadnāt she? Best-selling author, an accomplishment like that doesnāt come without hard work. She clearly hadnāt been miserably heart broken in these past five years, she wasnāt moping around, dwelling on the what ifs of the past. She was excelling, moving forward, just like everyone else. Everyone, except him.
Ā Maybe he really should let her go.
Ā āThen ask her again.ā
Ā His fatherās voice came through the speaker, snapping Kenji out of his self-deprecating thoughts. He readjusted himself, standing up straight now, pushing away from the windowsill and walking around the room. āDonāt you think thatāll just annoy her?ā
Ā āYou donāt have to annoy her, or be disrespectful about it. What she wants is to see that youāre pursuing her, to see that youāre serious about wanting to rekindle the relationship.ā āØāØKenji paced slowly around the hotel room, taking in his fatherās words. āBut what if she just keeps rejecting me?ā
Ā āSheās just testing you right now. She needs to see that youāre committed to her. She canāt come to a decision yet when she doesnāt know if she can trust you again.ā
Ā Kenji makes his way towards the bed, listening to his father speak as he sits down. He slouches, feet settling on the floor, holding the phone loosely against his ear. āBut what if she never comes to that decision?ā He looked down, his posture filled with doubt, with insecurity. āWhat if Iām wasting my time, Dad?ā
Ā āThen waste it.ā His father spoke, a sense of finality filling his tone. āBecause sheās worth wasting it for.ā
Ā Kenji went silent for a moment, taking in those words, realizing the truth in them. Even if his effort didnāt end in remarriage, she was worth the time he was taking to pursue her. This wasnāt a transactional relationship; he wasnāt just doing this to soothe his ego. He was doing this because he loved her, because he wanted the chance to be with her again, permanently this time. He flew across the world not to earn her back as some sort of achievement, but to make up for the way he treated her. Because she deserves an apology, she deserves his effort, even if he doesnāt receive hers in return.
Ā This wasnāt about him, this wasnāt about gaining anything for himself. Heād forgotten that. This was about taking accountability, righting his wrongs. He wasnāt the same arrogant and selfish man sheād experienced five years ago, he wasnāt the man sheād divorced. He had to show her that. Even if she doesnāt take him back, even if he was flying single back to Japan at the end of the week, he needed her to know that he changed.
Ā āYouāre right. Iāll do it, Iāll ask her again.ā
Ā āGood.ā His father smiled to himself, nodding as he held the phone against his ear. āJust be yourself, okay? And just keep trying, donāt give up so soon.ā
Ā āI wonāt.ā Kenjiās expression softened, a smile spreading across his lips. āThanks, Dad.ā
Ā āYouāre welcome, son.ā
Ā Kenji slowly stood up again, saying his goodbyes to his father before he hung up the phone. He walked back over to the window, staring out it once more, looking at the familiar city with a newly self-assured outlook this time. The city lights were gleaming, the rain had started to clear up now.
Ā This wasnāt going to be easy, that much was true. But maybe it isnāt supposed to be, because nothing that comes easy is ever worthwhile. Ā Ā
If you want to be tagged in any of my works, whether it's for a certain series, fandom, or character, please let me know in the comments below. :)
Keep in mind that commenting to tell me what you liked, what you don't, how I can improve, and any suggestions you have, helps me A LOT more than simply liking my posts. If you've had the time to read my story, how much longer does it take to leave me some feedback on it? :)
Summary : At first glance, Ken Sato seemed to have it all. With money, fame, and success surrounding his name, there was nothing he couldnāt get his hands on. They say money can buy happiness. That may be true to an extent, however, can money buy forgiveness? Unfortunately for Ken, no amount of money and influence can turn back time and change the past. No amount of bribery can erase the fact that he had chosen to abandon his wife in favor of pursuing his baseball career. That awful decision he made took place five years ago, when he was just starting out as a professional athlete. But now that heās matured and had time to reflect on his actions, can he hope for a chance to rekindle his marriage? Or should he accept defeat and live with the consequences of letting the only woman heās ever truly loved slip away from him?
Word count : 4k words
Warnings : nothing really in this chapter, mentions of abandonment and neglect, mentions of regret, angst
Authorās notes : comments and reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on
Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction and should in no way, shape, or form, be taken seriously.
Side Note : This fic, and everything else Iāve written on my blog is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.
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āAre you sure you donāt want me to come with you?ā
Kenji glanced upwards, watching his father walk into the bedroom; his movements a bit wobbly as he gripped his cane, shifting his weight on it with every step. āNo, itās okay Dad.ā Kenji smiled and shook his head, his eyes turning back towards the suitcase he was piling clothes into. āI appreciate the offer but,ā He paused, letting out a sigh as he folded another clean shirt and placed it inside his luggage. āThis is something I have to do on my own.āĀ
Letting out a silent huff of effort, Kenjiās father made his way to his sonās side, his eyes narrowing in an analytical gaze at the contents of the suitcase. The old man stayed quiet for a moment, letting out a soft hum, as if to show an outward display of the wheels turning inside his head. A playful smirk strung across Kenjiās lips after seeing his fatherās expression, knowing exactly what he was doing. Even in his old age, the man never seemed to grow out of his perfectionistic habits, always looking for opportunities to improve what was in front of him; even if it was just something as simple as helping pack his sonās suitcase.Ā
āWhat? Did I forget something?ā Kenji asked, his tone playful as he observed his fatherās contrasting gaze.
āYou need one of your suits.ā The old man spoke, as if the statement was obvious. He then turned away, limping over towards Kenjiās closet, entering the luxurious space and scanning its perimeter with an inquisitive stare.Ā
āYou think so?ā Kenji spoke up, following behind his father curiously. āI mean, Iām only going to be staying a few days or so. At least, thatās only if she doesnāt call the police the moment she sees me.ā He let out a quiet laugh, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, as if the thought of you doing that didnāt make his stomach turn with nausea. The scenario itself was a bit of an exaggeration, he didnātĀ actually thinkĀ youād resort to calling the cops on him. That wasnāt like you. But still, even if you didnāt send for reinforcements, you were bound to be displeased with him; or even outright angry. And in all honesty, he couldnāt exactly blame you for that if you did happen to react with bitterness upon seeing him again. He had been a sorry excuse for a husband after all, so your anger would be justified.Ā
āIt doesnāt matter how long youāre staying. You need to look your best if you want to win her back.ā His father argued, his fingers caressing past the designer suits hung on the closet rack, shuffling by each one to find something suitable for his son to wear.Ā
āWin her back?ā Kenji let out a dry laugh, a little shocked by his fatherās confidence in the success of that likelihood. āI donāt know about that, Dad. What makes you so sure sheād even want me back?āĀ
The old man looked up, his eyes narrowing at his son with confusion; not appreciating the negative self-talk he was hearing. āWhy wouldnāt she want you back?āĀ
Kenji crossed his arms and shifted his weight, his shoulder leaning against the doorway of the walk-in closet, letting an apprehensive laugh escape his lips. āI donāt know, maybe because I practically ditched her in favor of my baseball career.ā His tone was diffident as he spoke, clearly stemming from a lack of self-confidence on the subject. āI mean, I donāt think most women want to feel like a single woman in their own marriage.ā He spoke with a smile, shrugging his shoulders as he tried to laugh it off.
It was a force of habit for Kenji to downplay things; pretending not to care and masking his insecurities behind that veil of charisma he often resorted to. After all the years he spent bottling things up for interviews and fan events, it was basically second nature for him now. It was his retreat, a desperate attempt at control. An effort to save face and convince others that he wasnāt hurting, as if his heart wasnāt twisting with guilt and anxiety. He had a reputation to uphold as aĀ legend,Ā not some frail human being.Ā
But his father wasnāt convinced.Ā He knew him better than that. And no amount of humor could reassure a worried parent.Ā
āBut she wonāt feel like that, not anymore.ā The old man spoke, shifting his weight on that cane once again so he could slowly make his way back over towards his son who stood in the doorway. āYouāve changed, Kenji. Donāt discredit yourself and the progress youāve made by pretending youāre the same man you were five years ago.ā He spoke with such conviction, such confidence in his sonās transformation and maturity; much more than Kenji himself could ever claim to have. āYouāve worked hard to get where you are now, and I have no doubt sheāll recognize that. Even if it may take a little while.ā He lifted his hand to give his son a soft pat on the back, his thumb gently digging into Kenjiās shoulder. His grip was strong despite his old age, and his gaze was a mix between affection and seriousness.Ā
The warm smile on his fatherās face was a touching sight, a reminder of the diligent effort theyāve both put in over the last few years to improve their broken relationship. In the past, Kenji never noticed anything more than guilt and shame whenever his father looked at him, but now his gaze was tender and encouraging. A testament to the healthy relationship they now maintained as father and son.Ā
Having such natural and pleasant interactions with his father was not something that Kenji had previously thought possible, but it was his new normal now; and had been for the past five years. It didnāt happen overnight of course, there was a lot of resentment and grudges to work through first, but, they got there in the end, didnāt they? After so many years of missed calls and absences from holiday gatherings, Kenji and his father finally achieved the wholesome bond theyād always strived for.Ā
Foolish or not, that reality gave Kenji some hope towards his pursuit to win back his ex-wife. She may hate him at first, she may refuse to forgive him in the beginning, but hopefully, with time and patience, their relationship could be revived; just like Kenji had done with his father.Ā
āThanks Dad.ā Kenjiās expression softened, his hand lifting to rest atop his fatherās, returning his affectionate pat. āI think I needed that.ā He spoke, a vulnerable smile stringing across his lips.Ā
āYouāre welcome.ā His father returned the smile, his head tilting in a heartfelt manner. āBut thatās beside the point.ā The old manās voice reentered the air in a quick and hurried manner, his body turning away with the help of his cane and retreating back into the closet, returning to the luxury suits he was inspecting earlier. āWe still need to pick your suit.ā His fingers brushed across the fabrics as he spoke, evaluating both appearance and quality as he sifted through them. When his eyes finally settled upon what he deemed to be a suitable option, he gently grabbed the hanger and carefully pulled the suit off the rack, turning it so Kenji could see. āYouāll wear this one.āĀ
Kenjiās eyes shifted up and down, scanning the suit his father was holding out to him. It was a black suit jacket with pants to match, underneath the set adorned a grey vest and black tie to complete the look. It was one of his more expensive suits, one that gave off a classier feel than the others. It was definitely a head turner, and if his ex-wife saw him in that it couldnāt hurt his chances of winning her back.Ā
Kenji smiled and nodded his head, speaking in agreement. āIāll make sure to pack it.āĀ
āSo, Miss L/N,ā The woman smiled at you, her legs crossed as she sat up in the chair, making sure to appear sophisticated in front of the large audience. āTell us about the ending of your book.ā She spoke, her tone intrigued, as if she was genuinely interested in hearing your answers instead of simply maintaining a perky faƧade for the reporters. āMost romance novels end with a happy ending, but in yours, the couple goes their separate ways. Why did you decide to do that? Are you planning to write a sequel to continue their love story?āĀ
āWell,ā you began with a smile, clearing your throat softly, trying not to let your nervousness show in front of a room full of attentive ears. āIām not entirely sure yet if I want to do a sequel. I think the ending is fine just the way it is for now.ā You spoke, your eyes fixated on the interviewer, hardly able to even see the audience with the stage lights centered around you.Ā
āI agree.ā The woman spoke up immediately, her body leaning forward with interest. āSo many romance novels end with some cheesy happy ending where the guy and the girl get back together. Itās overdone. We need more of these types of stories, where the woman finds her worth elsewhere instead of from the male lead.ā She rambled on, her voice passionate and eager, as if this was a topic sheād invested a lot of thought and credence into.Ā
āOh, yeah,ā you laughed a bit awkwardly, not really sure what to say in response to her subtle projection of a āstrong independent womanā agenda. It was clear she had taken on a more rancorous point of view, convinced that the ending of your story was a push for women empowerment rather than the simple decision to conclude it as an open-ended denouement; as if to say āwho knows what will happen in their futures.āĀ
āI feel like the ending really resonated with you in your own way, Iām glad to know you enjoyed it.ā You spoke politely, not wanting to spoil her fun by correcting her interpretation of your novelās conclusion. Everyone has the right to elucidate their own version of a story, thatās the beauty of literature.Ā And who were you to rectify her?Ā
āOf course I enjoyed it!ā The woman said with a smile, turning towards the audience now as she continued. āI think everyone enjoyed it, right?ā She stated, the crowd responding with murmurs and hums that formed a collective āyes.ā āSee?ā She turned back towards you as she laughed, her expression still bright and cheerful.Ā
You gave her a gracious smile in response, squinting under the glow of the stage lights as you looked out over the sea of people. āI appreciate everyoneās support and feedback. This book was very personal for me and so Iām happy to know that you guys appreciated it.āĀ
The crowd responded with applause, some people shouting compliments, others cheering. The interviewer let the audience express their support for a moment before she spoke up again. āAre there any questions for Miss L/N?ā She asked, her inquiry reciprocated with a show of hands from the crowd.Ā
One by one, the interviewer chose people to stand, allowing them to voice their thoughts. Some people asked questions about the book itself, while most of the reporters probed about your personal life, anxious to get the latest scoop on any private affairs you were attempting to keep silent.
You answered their questions politely, successfully changing the topic each time someone asked something a bit too invasive. You had dealt with their interrogative tactics before, and you werenāt intimidated by it. You had grown accustomed to simply āsmiling and noddingā throughout their inquiries. However, that smile abruptly faded when the next person was chosen to stand and ask their question. Your heart felt like it stopped the moment you heard that voice,Ā his voice.Ā One you hadnāt heard in over five years.
āMiss L/N, Iām curious to know. You said this book was very personal for you. Does that mean you wrote it based off events that happened in your life?āĀ
The breath seemed to escape your lungs; your body paused in place as you sat in the cushioned chair on stage.
Was that really him?Ā No, no it couldnāt be.Ā Why would it be?Ā
You cleared your throat, trying to remain calm, convincing yourself that you were just imagining things. That wasnāt him,Ā just someone with the exact same voice.Ā And as you squinted past the harsh stage lighting, peering out into the crowd to prove your negation, you realized the man had the same exact face too.Ā
āUm...ā You stuttered, feeling a wave of emotions rushing towards the shoreline of your sanity. Shock, bitterness, resentment, hope, longing, anger. Your mind was an assortment of emotions, brewed together into a cocktail of unresolved feelings.Ā
You recognized his hair, his build, his stupid trademark smirk as he stared at you from the crowd. You didnāt understand why he was here, what he could possibly want after all these years, but there was no denying who he was. The man you divorced five years ago:Ā Ken Sato.
The silence was deafening, your discomfort apparent despite your attempts to remain calm. āWell, um...ā You tried to get ahold of yourself. There were reporters in the same room as the two of you, watching your every move. If they sensed drama occurring before their eyes, theyād be sure to rehash it in their most recent article; and then the birth of a juicy news story would commence. You refused to give them a reason to suspect a history between you and the man standing in the audience. You wouldnāt let yourself become āKen Satoās past flingā in the latest headline. You had to sedate your anxieties and answer the question, without giving way to any suspicion.Ā
āI apologize, I didnāt realize you were a fan of my work, Mr. Sato.ā You spoke with an artificial laugh, trying to play the situation off as humorous. You smiled at him, attempting to hide your discomfort by faking a flattered faƧade in front of a crowd of intense staring.
There were murmurs amongst the audience, people whispering and pointing, clearly recognizing him as the famous baseball heartthrob.Ā
He stared you down with a grin, that nonchalant manner of his bringing back a variety of memories from your repressed marriage. āAs shocking as it may be, I like to indulge occasionally.ā He chuckled, his head tilting as he gazed at you,Ā almost fondly. āYour work feels very relatable, thatās why I wanted to know if you wrote your book based off true events.āĀ
Your eyes suddenly widened at his words, realizing what he was getting at. You had been so preoccupied with panic at his unexpected presence that his question hadnāt even registered until now. He wanted to know if your book was written in resemblance to your marriage with him, you understood that now. A sense of bitterness engulfed your heart at his attempt to interrogate you here and now, in front of everyone. Even though you two were the only people aware of the history between you both, you didnāt appreciate his efforts to pry information out of you by use of subtle wording. You straightened your posture, your expression becoming firmer and more guarded now. You werenāt going to let history repeat itself, you refused to be tormented by him again.
āNo, Mr. Sato. My novel does not reflect my life in any way, it is simply fiction.āĀ
You knew it was a lie, and by the look in his eyes as he stood in the audience, you figured he knew it too. But even so, you refused to admit it, to give him the satisfaction of hearing it out loud.Ā
It wasnāt clear whether she sensed the tension between you both, or if she simply realized they needed to wrap things up, regardless, the interviewer spoke up, her tone enthusiastic as she encouraged Ken to sit down. āIf that is all the questions you have, Mr. Sato, I believe there are other people waiting.ā The woman spoke with a smile, making you feel relieved at the change of topic.Ā
āOf course. Please, continue.ā Ken spoke, nodding his head politely before taking a seat once more.Ā
You were thankful for the chance to breathe at least, to allow yourself a moment of recovery before you had to answer the next personās question. You tried to stay focused on getting through the interview, your eyes fixated on the woman in the chair next to you as she spoke. You didnāt dare look out over that audience once again, in fear that your eyes would meet with someone you thought wouldāve remained a memory of your past.Ā
You didnāt understand why he was here, why he would show up after all this time; and at one of your book tour events no less.Ā How did he even find out youād be here?Ā I guess, if he was following the tour dates, he couldāve easily figured that out. But still, the question of āwhyā was a mystery in and of itself. Like some annoying pop song repeating in your mind for the next few hours.Ā
What reason could he possibly have for coming back, had something been leaked to the news that you didnāt realize? How long was he planning on being around? Was this some cheap attempt to rekindle a past love for the sake of entertainment during his stay in America? Or worse, had he come back to gloat?Ā
Whatever his reasoning was, it had your brain scrambling to stay focused throughout the entirety of the interview. Just ten more minutes, two more minutes, ten more seconds untilĀ finally,Ā you heard the words āthank you so much for joining us, weāll see you next timeā and you knew you were finally free. You walked backstage almost immediately after that, praying youād avoid any further confrontation with the man you so desperately hoped to avoid. Unfortunately, it seems your prayers werenāt answered this time around, because just as you made your way to the back parking lot, speed walking towards your car, a voice made your heart clench in panic.Ā
āGot time to sign an autograph?āĀ
You paused, your heels scraping against the pavement as you came to a halt in the middle of the parking lot. You knew there was no getting out of this, he would just follow you to your car if you kept walking,Ā he was stubborn and self-entitled like that. Better to just get the hard part over with and see what he wants instead of letting the questions continue to torment you. That way, at least youād know what he was here for, and could prepare some sort of restraining order in case he came back for selfish reasons.
So, reluctantly, you turned your head, your eyes falling upon the silhouette of the man you once called your husband. You could seem him better now in the daylight, rather than the dim view you had earlier in the auditorium. And though you wouldnāt admit it,Ā he looked good.Ā Better in fact. He had always been attractive, that much was certain. But as he approached you now, with that fitted shirt and those business casual slacks, you felt your cheeks beginning to heat up; and that sense of determination to drive him away seemed to be forgotten momentarily.Ā
āā¦Hello Ken. Itās been a while.ā You managed out a response, trying your best to sound calm and nonchalant.Ā
āYeah, it has.ā He walked up to you, stepping closer than you assumed he would. āI see youāre doing well. Bestselling author, huh?āĀ
āOh...ā You paused for a moment, expecting some sort of interrogation instead of this casual conversation that was currently taking place. āyeah... yeah itās been a wild ride.ā You let out a laugh, trying to take the edge off your awkwardness.Ā
He was staring at you fondly, as if the two of you were old friends just catching up; as if your marriage hadnāt ended in shouting and a slam of the front door.Ā
āListen, uh...ā He shifted his weight a bit, slipping a hand in the pocket of his dress pants. āI donāt know if youāre busy, but, Iām in town this week and so,ā He looked up, his eyes fixated on you, analyzing every slight change in your facial expressions as he continued. āIf youāre free, it would be nice to grab a drink or something.ā
You felt your heart race at his words, shock and confusion filling the entirety of your brain, leaving you dumfounded before him.Ā
He wanted to go out?Ā To ācatch up?āĀ Why? Did he need something? Was this a genuine attempt at resurrecting your failed marriage? Or had your newfound fame and social status brought him back instead?Ā
You couldnāt tell. He seemed to be acting friendly, friendlier than you expected. But then again, this was your arrogant, self-absorbed, ex-husband we were referring to here. This couldnāt have been genuine,Ā could it?Ā
Could so much really have changed in the past five years?Ā Could he really be a different person now than the one you divorced back then?Ā
I guess itās possible,Ā but, then again, the only way to know for sure was to accept his offer, and you werenāt exactly ready to take that chance just yet.Ā
āUm, Iām on tour actually, so Iām gonna be pretty busy this whole week.āĀ
It wasnāt a lie, at least; you had your schedule full of book signings and fan events almost every day this week. You knew you couldāve probably squeezed in an hour or two just to have a couple drinks with him, but, you werenāt exactly eager to prioritize someone who never reciprocated your effort in the past.Ā
āOh, okay.ā He glanced away, his hand reaching to caress the nape of his neck a bit awkwardly. āYeah, I get it. Just, umā¦ā He paused for a moment, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. āJust let me know if you have some free time, okay?āĀ
āYeah, sure.ā You smiled nervously, trying to sound polite. āI just... I gotta be somewhere right now.ā You clutched your purse a bit tighter around your fingers as you began to take a step back, trying to escape from your ex-husbandās advances. āBut umā¦ Iāll see you later.āĀ
He didnāt move, he didnāt try to prolong the conversation. He simply nodded and lifted his hand to give you a subtle wave. āYeah, see you.ā He spoke, his tone sounding a bit defeated, as if he could tell you were just turning him down nicely.Ā
You almost felt bad after seeing that hint of despondency in his gaze, but you didnāt act on it. You smiled politely and turned away, heading across the parking lot to retreat to your vehicle. A breath of relief escaped your lips the moment you shut the car door, feeling safe in confines of the automobile.Ā
What a day this had turned out to be.
But you didnāt dwell on it for too long. You actually did have somewhere to be, and as you pulled out your phone from your purse, you realized you should get going before you risked being late. So, after switching the gear shift into reverse and pulling out of your parking spot, you drove off, leaving a more somber version of your ex-husband behind to watch as you exited the parking lot.
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Summary : At first glance, Ken Sato seemed to have it all. With money, fame, and success surrounding his name, there was nothing he couldnāt get his hands on. They say money can buy happiness. That may be true to an extent, however, can money buy forgiveness? Unfortunately for Ken, no amount of money and influence can turn back time and change the past. No amount of bribery can erase the fact that he had chosen to abandon his wife in favor of pursuing his baseball career. That awful decision he made took place five years ago, when he was just starting out as a professional athlete. But now that heās matured and had time to reflect on his actions, can he hope for a chance to rekindle his marriage? Or should he accept defeat and live with the consequences of letting the only woman heās ever truly loved slip away from him?
Word count : 4k words
Warnings : nothing really in this chapter, mentions of abandonment and neglect, mentions of regret, angst
Authorās notes : comments and reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on
Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction and should in no way, shape, or form, be taken seriously.
Side Note : This fic, and everything else Iāve written on my blog is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.
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āAre you sure you donāt want me to come with you?ā
Kenji glanced upwards, watching his father walk into the bedroom; his movements a bit wobbly as he gripped his cane, shifting his weight on it with every step. āNo, itās okay Dad.ā Kenji smiled and shook his head, his eyes turning back towards the suitcase he was piling clothes into. āI appreciate the offer but,ā He paused, letting out a sigh as he folded another clean shirt and placed it inside his luggage. āThis is something I have to do on my own.āĀ
Letting out a silent huff of effort, Kenjiās father made his way to his sonās side, his eyes narrowing in an analytical gaze at the contents of the suitcase. The old man stayed quiet for a moment, letting out a soft hum, as if to show an outward display of the wheels turning inside his head. A playful smirk strung across Kenjiās lips after seeing his fatherās expression, knowing exactly what he was doing. Even in his old age, the man never seemed to grow out of his perfectionistic habits, always looking for opportunities to improve what was in front of him; even if it was just something as simple as helping pack his sonās suitcase.Ā
āWhat? Did I forget something?ā Kenji asked, his tone playful as he observed his fatherās contrasting gaze.
āYou need one of your suits.ā The old man spoke, as if the statement was obvious. He then turned away, limping over towards Kenjiās closet, entering the luxurious space and scanning its perimeter with an inquisitive stare.Ā
āYou think so?ā Kenji spoke up, following behind his father curiously. āI mean, Iām only going to be staying a few days or so. At least, thatās only if she doesnāt call the police the moment she sees me.ā He let out a quiet laugh, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, as if the thought of you doing that didnāt make his stomach turn with nausea. The scenario itself was a bit of an exaggeration, he didnātĀ actually thinkĀ youād resort to calling the cops on him. That wasnāt like you. But still, even if you didnāt send for reinforcements, you were bound to be displeased with him; or even outright angry. And in all honesty, he couldnāt exactly blame you for that if you did happen to react with bitterness upon seeing him again. He had been a sorry excuse for a husband after all, so your anger would be justified.Ā
āIt doesnāt matter how long youāre staying. You need to look your best if you want to win her back.ā His father argued, his fingers caressing past the designer suits hung on the closet rack, shuffling by each one to find something suitable for his son to wear.Ā
āWin her back?ā Kenji let out a dry laugh, a little shocked by his fatherās confidence in the success of that likelihood. āI donāt know about that, Dad. What makes you so sure sheād even want me back?āĀ
The old man looked up, his eyes narrowing at his son with confusion; not appreciating the negative self-talk he was hearing. āWhy wouldnāt she want you back?āĀ
Kenji crossed his arms and shifted his weight, his shoulder leaning against the doorway of the walk-in closet, letting an apprehensive laugh escape his lips. āI donāt know, maybe because I practically ditched her in favor of my baseball career.ā His tone was diffident as he spoke, clearly stemming from a lack of self-confidence on the subject. āI mean, I donāt think most women want to feel like a single woman in their own marriage.ā He spoke with a smile, shrugging his shoulders as he tried to laugh it off.
It was a force of habit for Kenji to downplay things; pretending not to care and masking his insecurities behind that veil of charisma he often resorted to. After all the years he spent bottling things up for interviews and fan events, it was basically second nature for him now. It was his retreat, a desperate attempt at control. An effort to save face and convince others that he wasnāt hurting, as if his heart wasnāt twisting with guilt and anxiety. He had a reputation to uphold as aĀ legend,Ā not some frail human being.Ā
But his father wasnāt convinced.Ā He knew him better than that. And no amount of humor could reassure a worried parent.Ā
āBut she wonāt feel like that, not anymore.ā The old man spoke, shifting his weight on that cane once again so he could slowly make his way back over towards his son who stood in the doorway. āYouāve changed, Kenji. Donāt discredit yourself and the progress youāve made by pretending youāre the same man you were five years ago.ā He spoke with such conviction, such confidence in his sonās transformation and maturity; much more than Kenji himself could ever claim to have. āYouāve worked hard to get where you are now, and I have no doubt sheāll recognize that. Even if it may take a little while.ā He lifted his hand to give his son a soft pat on the back, his thumb gently digging into Kenjiās shoulder. His grip was strong despite his old age, and his gaze was a mix between affection and seriousness.Ā
The warm smile on his fatherās face was a touching sight, a reminder of the diligent effort theyāve both put in over the last few years to improve their broken relationship. In the past, Kenji never noticed anything more than guilt and shame whenever his father looked at him, but now his gaze was tender and encouraging. A testament to the healthy relationship they now maintained as father and son.Ā
Having such natural and pleasant interactions with his father was not something that Kenji had previously thought possible, but it was his new normal now; and had been for the past five years. It didnāt happen overnight of course, there was a lot of resentment and grudges to work through first, but, they got there in the end, didnāt they? After so many years of missed calls and absences from holiday gatherings, Kenji and his father finally achieved the wholesome bond theyād always strived for.Ā
Foolish or not, that reality gave Kenji some hope towards his pursuit to win back his ex-wife. She may hate him at first, she may refuse to forgive him in the beginning, but hopefully, with time and patience, their relationship could be revived; just like Kenji had done with his father.Ā
āThanks Dad.ā Kenjiās expression softened, his hand lifting to rest atop his fatherās, returning his affectionate pat. āI think I needed that.ā He spoke, a vulnerable smile stringing across his lips.Ā
āYouāre welcome.ā His father returned the smile, his head tilting in a heartfelt manner. āBut thatās beside the point.ā The old manās voice reentered the air in a quick and hurried manner, his body turning away with the help of his cane and retreating back into the closet, returning to the luxury suits he was inspecting earlier. āWe still need to pick your suit.ā His fingers brushed across the fabrics as he spoke, evaluating both appearance and quality as he sifted through them. When his eyes finally settled upon what he deemed to be a suitable option, he gently grabbed the hanger and carefully pulled the suit off the rack, turning it so Kenji could see. āYouāll wear this one.āĀ
Kenjiās eyes shifted up and down, scanning the suit his father was holding out to him. It was a black suit jacket with pants to match, underneath the set adorned a grey vest and black tie to complete the look. It was one of his more expensive suits, one that gave off a classier feel than the others. It was definitely a head turner, and if his ex-wife saw him in that it couldnāt hurt his chances of winning her back.Ā
Kenji smiled and nodded his head, speaking in agreement. āIāll make sure to pack it.āĀ
āSo, Miss L/N,ā The woman smiled at you, her legs crossed as she sat up in the chair, making sure to appear sophisticated in front of the large audience. āTell us about the ending of your book.ā She spoke, her tone intrigued, as if she was genuinely interested in hearing your answers instead of simply maintaining a perky faƧade for the reporters. āMost romance novels end with a happy ending, but in yours, the couple goes their separate ways. Why did you decide to do that? Are you planning to write a sequel to continue their love story?āĀ
āWell,ā you began with a smile, clearing your throat softly, trying not to let your nervousness show in front of a room full of attentive ears. āIām not entirely sure yet if I want to do a sequel. I think the ending is fine just the way it is for now.ā You spoke, your eyes fixated on the interviewer, hardly able to even see the audience with the stage lights centered around you.Ā
āI agree.ā The woman spoke up immediately, her body leaning forward with interest. āSo many romance novels end with some cheesy happy ending where the guy and the girl get back together. Itās overdone. We need more of these types of stories, where the woman finds her worth elsewhere instead of from the male lead.ā She rambled on, her voice passionate and eager, as if this was a topic sheād invested a lot of thought and credence into.Ā
āOh, yeah,ā you laughed a bit awkwardly, not really sure what to say in response to her subtle projection of a āstrong independent womanā agenda. It was clear she had taken on a more rancorous point of view, convinced that the ending of your story was a push for women empowerment rather than the simple decision to conclude it as an open-ended denouement; as if to say āwho knows what will happen in their futures.āĀ
āI feel like the ending really resonated with you in your own way, Iām glad to know you enjoyed it.ā You spoke politely, not wanting to spoil her fun by correcting her interpretation of your novelās conclusion. Everyone has the right to elucidate their own version of a story, thatās the beauty of literature.Ā And who were you to rectify her?Ā
āOf course I enjoyed it!ā The woman said with a smile, turning towards the audience now as she continued. āI think everyone enjoyed it, right?ā She stated, the crowd responding with murmurs and hums that formed a collective āyes.ā āSee?ā She turned back towards you as she laughed, her expression still bright and cheerful.Ā
You gave her a gracious smile in response, squinting under the glow of the stage lights as you looked out over the sea of people. āI appreciate everyoneās support and feedback. This book was very personal for me and so Iām happy to know that you guys appreciated it.āĀ
The crowd responded with applause, some people shouting compliments, others cheering. The interviewer let the audience express their support for a moment before she spoke up again. āAre there any questions for Miss L/N?ā She asked, her inquiry reciprocated with a show of hands from the crowd.Ā
One by one, the interviewer chose people to stand, allowing them to voice their thoughts. Some people asked questions about the book itself, while most of the reporters probed about your personal life, anxious to get the latest scoop on any private affairs you were attempting to keep silent.
You answered their questions politely, successfully changing the topic each time someone asked something a bit too invasive. You had dealt with their interrogative tactics before, and you werenāt intimidated by it. You had grown accustomed to simply āsmiling and noddingā throughout their inquiries. However, that smile abruptly faded when the next person was chosen to stand and ask their question. Your heart felt like it stopped the moment you heard that voice,Ā his voice.Ā One you hadnāt heard in over five years.
āMiss L/N, Iām curious to know. You said this book was very personal for you. Does that mean you wrote it based off events that happened in your life?āĀ
The breath seemed to escape your lungs; your body paused in place as you sat in the cushioned chair on stage.
Was that really him?Ā No, no it couldnāt be.Ā Why would it be?Ā
You cleared your throat, trying to remain calm, convincing yourself that you were just imagining things. That wasnāt him,Ā just someone with the exact same voice.Ā And as you squinted past the harsh stage lighting, peering out into the crowd to prove your negation, you realized the man had the same exact face too.Ā
āUm...ā You stuttered, feeling a wave of emotions rushing towards the shoreline of your sanity. Shock, bitterness, resentment, hope, longing, anger. Your mind was an assortment of emotions, brewed together into a cocktail of unresolved feelings.Ā
You recognized his hair, his build, his stupid trademark smirk as he stared at you from the crowd. You didnāt understand why he was here, what he could possibly want after all these years, but there was no denying who he was. The man you divorced five years ago:Ā Ken Sato.
The silence was deafening, your discomfort apparent despite your attempts to remain calm. āWell, um...ā You tried to get ahold of yourself. There were reporters in the same room as the two of you, watching your every move. If they sensed drama occurring before their eyes, theyād be sure to rehash it in their most recent article; and then the birth of a juicy news story would commence. You refused to give them a reason to suspect a history between you and the man standing in the audience. You wouldnāt let yourself become āKen Satoās past flingā in the latest headline. You had to sedate your anxieties and answer the question, without giving way to any suspicion.Ā
āI apologize, I didnāt realize you were a fan of my work, Mr. Sato.ā You spoke with an artificial laugh, trying to play the situation off as humorous. You smiled at him, attempting to hide your discomfort by faking a flattered faƧade in front of a crowd of intense staring.
There were murmurs amongst the audience, people whispering and pointing, clearly recognizing him as the famous baseball heartthrob.Ā
He stared you down with a grin, that nonchalant manner of his bringing back a variety of memories from your repressed marriage. āAs shocking as it may be, I like to indulge occasionally.ā He chuckled, his head tilting as he gazed at you,Ā almost fondly. āYour work feels very relatable, thatās why I wanted to know if you wrote your book based off true events.āĀ
Your eyes suddenly widened at his words, realizing what he was getting at. You had been so preoccupied with panic at his unexpected presence that his question hadnāt even registered until now. He wanted to know if your book was written in resemblance to your marriage with him, you understood that now. A sense of bitterness engulfed your heart at his attempt to interrogate you here and now, in front of everyone. Even though you two were the only people aware of the history between you both, you didnāt appreciate his efforts to pry information out of you by use of subtle wording. You straightened your posture, your expression becoming firmer and more guarded now. You werenāt going to let history repeat itself, you refused to be tormented by him again.
āNo, Mr. Sato. My novel does not reflect my life in any way, it is simply fiction.āĀ
You knew it was a lie, and by the look in his eyes as he stood in the audience, you figured he knew it too. But even so, you refused to admit it, to give him the satisfaction of hearing it out loud.Ā
It wasnāt clear whether she sensed the tension between you both, or if she simply realized they needed to wrap things up, regardless, the interviewer spoke up, her tone enthusiastic as she encouraged Ken to sit down. āIf that is all the questions you have, Mr. Sato, I believe there are other people waiting.ā The woman spoke with a smile, making you feel relieved at the change of topic.Ā
āOf course. Please, continue.ā Ken spoke, nodding his head politely before taking a seat once more.Ā
You were thankful for the chance to breathe at least, to allow yourself a moment of recovery before you had to answer the next personās question. You tried to stay focused on getting through the interview, your eyes fixated on the woman in the chair next to you as she spoke. You didnāt dare look out over that audience once again, in fear that your eyes would meet with someone you thought wouldāve remained a memory of your past.Ā
You didnāt understand why he was here, why he would show up after all this time; and at one of your book tour events no less.Ā How did he even find out youād be here?Ā I guess, if he was following the tour dates, he couldāve easily figured that out. But still, the question of āwhyā was a mystery in and of itself. Like some annoying pop song repeating in your mind for the next few hours.Ā
What reason could he possibly have for coming back, had something been leaked to the news that you didnāt realize? How long was he planning on being around? Was this some cheap attempt to rekindle a past love for the sake of entertainment during his stay in America? Or worse, had he come back to gloat?Ā
Whatever his reasoning was, it had your brain scrambling to stay focused throughout the entirety of the interview. Just ten more minutes, two more minutes, ten more seconds untilĀ finally,Ā you heard the words āthank you so much for joining us, weāll see you next timeā and you knew you were finally free. You walked backstage almost immediately after that, praying youād avoid any further confrontation with the man you so desperately hoped to avoid. Unfortunately, it seems your prayers werenāt answered this time around, because just as you made your way to the back parking lot, speed walking towards your car, a voice made your heart clench in panic.Ā
āGot time to sign an autograph?āĀ
You paused, your heels scraping against the pavement as you came to a halt in the middle of the parking lot. You knew there was no getting out of this, he would just follow you to your car if you kept walking,Ā he was stubborn and self-entitled like that. Better to just get the hard part over with and see what he wants instead of letting the questions continue to torment you. That way, at least youād know what he was here for, and could prepare some sort of restraining order in case he came back for selfish reasons.
So, reluctantly, you turned your head, your eyes falling upon the silhouette of the man you once called your husband. You could seem him better now in the daylight, rather than the dim view you had earlier in the auditorium. And though you wouldnāt admit it,Ā he looked good.Ā Better in fact. He had always been attractive, that much was certain. But as he approached you now, with that fitted shirt and those business casual slacks, you felt your cheeks beginning to heat up; and that sense of determination to drive him away seemed to be forgotten momentarily.Ā
āā¦Hello Ken. Itās been a while.ā You managed out a response, trying your best to sound calm and nonchalant.Ā
āYeah, it has.ā He walked up to you, stepping closer than you assumed he would. āI see youāre doing well. Bestselling author, huh?āĀ
āOh...ā You paused for a moment, expecting some sort of interrogation instead of this casual conversation that was currently taking place. āyeah... yeah itās been a wild ride.ā You let out a laugh, trying to take the edge off your awkwardness.Ā
He was staring at you fondly, as if the two of you were old friends just catching up; as if your marriage hadnāt ended in shouting and a slam of the front door.Ā
āListen, uh...ā He shifted his weight a bit, slipping a hand in the pocket of his dress pants. āI donāt know if youāre busy, but, Iām in town this week and so,ā He looked up, his eyes fixated on you, analyzing every slight change in your facial expressions as he continued. āIf youāre free, it would be nice to grab a drink or something.ā
You felt your heart race at his words, shock and confusion filling the entirety of your brain, leaving you dumfounded before him.Ā
He wanted to go out?Ā To ācatch up?āĀ Why? Did he need something? Was this a genuine attempt at resurrecting your failed marriage? Or had your newfound fame and social status brought him back instead?Ā
You couldnāt tell. He seemed to be acting friendly, friendlier than you expected. But then again, this was your arrogant, self-absorbed, ex-husband we were referring to here. This couldnāt have been genuine,Ā could it?Ā
Could so much really have changed in the past five years?Ā Could he really be a different person now than the one you divorced back then?Ā
I guess itās possible,Ā but, then again, the only way to know for sure was to accept his offer, and you werenāt exactly ready to take that chance just yet.Ā
āUm, Iām on tour actually, so Iām gonna be pretty busy this whole week.āĀ
It wasnāt a lie, at least; you had your schedule full of book signings and fan events almost every day this week. You knew you couldāve probably squeezed in an hour or two just to have a couple drinks with him, but, you werenāt exactly eager to prioritize someone who never reciprocated your effort in the past.Ā
āOh, okay.ā He glanced away, his hand reaching to caress the nape of his neck a bit awkwardly. āYeah, I get it. Just, umā¦ā He paused for a moment, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. āJust let me know if you have some free time, okay?āĀ
āYeah, sure.ā You smiled nervously, trying to sound polite. āI just... I gotta be somewhere right now.ā You clutched your purse a bit tighter around your fingers as you began to take a step back, trying to escape from your ex-husbandās advances. āBut umā¦ Iāll see you later.āĀ
He didnāt move, he didnāt try to prolong the conversation. He simply nodded and lifted his hand to give you a subtle wave. āYeah, see you.ā He spoke, his tone sounding a bit defeated, as if he could tell you were just turning him down nicely.Ā
You almost felt bad after seeing that hint of despondency in his gaze, but you didnāt act on it. You smiled politely and turned away, heading across the parking lot to retreat to your vehicle. A breath of relief escaped your lips the moment you shut the car door, feeling safe in confines of the automobile.Ā
What a day this had turned out to be.
But you didnāt dwell on it for too long. You actually did have somewhere to be, and as you pulled out your phone from your purse, you realized you should get going before you risked being late. So, after switching the gear shift into reverse and pulling out of your parking spot, you drove off, leaving a more somber version of your ex-husband behind to watch as you exited the parking lot.
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Summary : Reiner was always taught that the devils of Paradis were vicious creatures, but what is he supposed to do when he soon finds himself reluctantly falling for one? Or when he is forced to go back to Marley and leave her all together?
Fic Warnings : very angsty!! canonverse, reader is left behind, betrayal, mentions of depression and suicide, manga and anime spoilers, fighting, military combat, death, grief,
Chapters :
One | Two | Three | Four |
Series Status : In Progress
This fic, and everything else I've written on my blog, is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.
Yes, there is a taglist for this series, so if you want to be added to it please let me know in the comments below.
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ā ļø Attention people on my tag lists ā ļø - it takes a LONG TIME for me to tag all of you, so please, out of courtesy of me, leave a comment or reblog at the very least since I'm taking the time to tag you <33
Keep in mind that commenting to tell me what you liked, what you don't, how I can improve, and any suggestions you have helps me A LOT more than simply liking my posts. If you've had the time to read my story, how much longer does it take to leave me some feedback on it? :)
Summary : At first glance, Ken Sato seemed to have it all. With money, fame, and success surrounding his name, there was nothing he couldnāt get his hands on. They say money can buy happiness. That may be true to an extent, however, can money buy forgiveness? Unfortunately for Ken, no amount of money and influence can turn back time and change the past. No amount of bribery can erase the fact that he had chosen to abandon his wife in favor of pursuing his baseball career. That awful decision he made took place five years ago, when he was just starting out as a professional athlete. But now that heās matured and had time to reflect on his actions, can he hope for a chance to rekindle his marriage? Or should he accept defeat and live with the consequences of letting the only woman heās ever truly loved slip away from him?
Word count : around 2,500 words
Warnings : mentions of abandonment and neglect, arrogant Sato, sad reader, mentions of regret, angst
Authorās notes : comments and reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on
Disclaimer : this is a work of fiction and should in no way, shape, or form, be taken seriously.
Side Note : This fic, and everything else Iāve written on my blog is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or stela my work.
Ken Sato. Looks, wealth, talent, charisma, and confidence rolled into one good looking package.Ā
The mere mention of his name was enough to cause an uproar of fanatics screaming and shouting in excitement, as if they were a pack of wolves howling at the moon.Ā
Though he was mostly known for his impressive baseball career, being named one of the most eligible bachelors in sports didnāt hurt his credibility either. If anything, playing the part of the charming ladiesā man only increased his popularity, especially to any of his adoring fans that were women,Ā which most of them were.
After becoming one of the biggest celebrities in both Japanese and American sports, there werenāt many people who were ignorant of a household name such as his. Every man wanted to be him, and every woman wanted to be with him.Ā
To the public eye, Ken Sato seemed to have it all. But looks can be deceiving, canāt they? Especially when it comes to a man whoās spent years hiding his true feelings behind a veil of humor and charisma.Ā
No one could know how much he was struggling to keep it all together, or the depths of the affliction eating away at his heart. He was Ken Sato after all, and Ken Sato wasnāt weak, he was a legend, and legends never died, they prevailed.Ā So, he must too.
No matter how much the reporters hounded him, using every possible tactic they could think of to pry into his personal life, Kenji never gave them more than a shred of minuscule details. Feeding them like rats, giving them only the bare necessities to satisfy their hunger for a short while before they came crawling back, demanding more.Ā
He never let them know more than he wanted, more than he felt like sharing, and frankly, there was a plethora of details he didnāt feel like sharing.Ā
His reputation of perfection probably wouldnāt uphold itself that well if the media knew about all the things he was wrestling with. Between being a newfound parent to a kaiju infant by day and a masked vigilante known as Ultraman by night, Ken didnāt exactly fit the cookie cutter version of āhaving it all together.āĀ
And if that wasnāt enough, then the shame he harbored towards a decision he made almost five years ago would definitely topple the pedestal he comfortably built his identity on.Ā
The press loved gossip, and theyād fight tooth and nail for even the smallest scintilla of drama. Twisting innocent words and blowing frivolous details out of proportions was the job of reporters. So, imagine the headlines theyād make if those reporters found out any real insiders on the life of the world-famous baseball player.Ā
Imagine the sales theyād make if a journalist ever got ahold of the information about his past, the same past heās been hiding away from during his time back in Japan.Ā Ā
Heās thought about calling, maybe writing a letter to express some form of condolences, but what if word got out? What if the press found out about the woman he used to be married to, the same one he abandoned five years ago in order to pursue his baseball career.Ā
Forget his most recent batting record, a scandalous story such as that would make headlines from both sides of the Pacific Ocean, and then there really would be nowhere else for him to hide from his past, lest he fancied moving somewhere more remote and secluded.Ā
If that day came, if Ken Sato was exposed for the decisions he made before becoming famous, then his reputation might take some irreparable damage.Ā
Thatās why he was so closed off towards reporters, towards his teammates,Ā towards everyone.Ā
Never let anyone close to you and they can never betray you. Thatās how Ken Sato lives.Ā
At least,Ā how he did live,Ā before a little reptilian creature crawled into his life, forcing him to realize there were things that mattered more than wealth and fame.
BeforeĀ taking care of a kaiju infant became the priority in his life, Ken Sato had rooted his worth in the success of his career. So once that career took off, offering him all the success and affluence he could ever want, he began to realize just how little he really had.Ā
Despite the riches, the popularity, all of it felt meaningless with no one to share it with. He couldāve held a party with hundreds of guests, surrounding himself with countless people all desperate to please him. Nevertheless, none of it would fill the emptiness engulfing his heart; knowing that no one he interacted with would ever see him as more than a means to financial gain and an increase in social status.Ā
He had a world full of convenience and opportunities at his fingertips, and yet, he never felt more detached from reality.Ā
His family was complicated, his friends were more like business partners who benefitted from their relations to him, and the one person he had ever felt truly comfortable around probably hated him now, after being dismissed in favor of baseball.Ā
In the end, even in a room full of dedicated fans, Ken Sato felt alone.Ā
However, then that little kaiju infant came along, and everything started to get better. Caring for a child, though tiring at first, gave Kenji something to work towards; a purpose that mattered more than advertising for energy drinks or scoring another record breaking hit at home plate.Ā
Emi finally gave him the one thing he always wanted, the same thing he always pretended not to need: family.Ā
After that, baseball didnāt seem to matter as much as it used to, unless he was teaching it to Emi. And all the wealth he had acquired over the years didnāt hold the same value as before, unless he was spending it on his adopted daughter. His lifestyle remained the same, but his heart was in a different place, a more peaceful one.Ā
Winning championships were more rewarding when he had someone to win for, someone to celebrate with afterwards. And now that heād repaired the relationship between him and his father, things were looking promising for his future.Ā
But there was still one more roadblock, one last regret preventing him from moving forward completely.Ā
You.Ā The woman heād been married to for a whole year, and, regretfully, the same woman who asked for a divorce due to his neglectful and inconsiderate disregard for her.Ā
He was young and immature back then, foolishly believing the pursuit of his baseball career was more important than maintaining a healthy marriage. He was arrogant, thinking that extravagant gifts and vacations would keep you happy and secure his role as a provider.Ā
But he was ignorant to think that being married to you meant he no longer had to earn your affection. All the money and gifts in the world couldnāt make up for the fact that he was never home, and that you were never his priority back then.Ā
Every morning heād wake up early, well before you, just to attend practice. And every night heād come home late, just after dinner, claiming he had needed to stay longer than normal to practice more.Ā
Youād set out a plate for him, but after his baseball career started taking off, he didnāt really have the time for things such as family dinners or game nights;Ā or so he said.Ā
Heād usually come home and skip dinner, taking a shower or going to sleep instead. You didnāt necessarily blame him for that, it was only natural for him to be tired from practice. But as the days of barely seeing him turned into months, and he started traveling consistently for his games, you started to feel more like a stranger to him than his wife. He was your husband on paper, but, in the confines of your home, you barely knew how to keep a conversation with him anymore. If you were being honest, you didnāt even really know him that well anymore.Ā
At least, not as much as you used to. Things were different when you first got married, he wasnāt always so arrogant and inconsiderate. Instead, he was passionate and playful, always knowing how to make you laugh after crying. Even on your first date, he was romantic and charming, making you blush to yourself every time a compliment slipped past his lips.Ā
But I guess the honeymoon phase people always warn you about before marriage was real; at least, it was for you and Kenji.Ā
Once his baseball career started taking off, the fame mustāve gotten to his head, and he forgot about the one woman who had been supporting him from the sidelines all along. You had gone to every game, recorded all his winning homeruns, supported his career even though it meant holding off on pursuing yours. And yet, he repaid you with neglect,Ā with a one-sided marriage.
You held on for a while, convinced that he would come around, that his behavior would change and he would reflect on his actions. But after the one-year anniversary of your marriage arrived and he wasnāt even in town to celebrate with you, thatās when you made your decision. You were done being a second choice.Ā
You got in contact with a lawyer, gathered divorce papers and waited with bated breath till he got home from his trip. And the moment he walked in the door, you practically shoved the papers in his face, all the emotions youād kept bottled up for so long suddenly coming out in a volcanic eruption of shouting and sobbing.Ā
And surprisingly enough, he stayed quiet through the majority of it, just watching with a hollow stare as you unleashed all the frustration youād been harboring towards him. And without a word, he took the papers from you and fished out a pen from his desk drawer, signing them in silence.Ā
Maybe he had realized from your onslaught of emotions that you were better off without him, that he was clearly causing you pain, and youād be happier once he set you free of him. Or maybe he really was just that heartless and figured now was the perfect opportunity to get rid of you. Either way, your stomach seemed to twist into a knot at the way he so casually signed those divorce papers and handed them back to you.Ā
This was what you had wanted, wasnāt it? Youāre the one who had gathered the papers in the first place, you shouldāve been happy that he was finally ending it, finally setting you free. And yet, you felt yourself holding back tears at his lack of emotion. He didnāt try to argue, he didnāt plead with you to give him another chance like you had expected him too. He just admitted defeat, giving up on trying to fix your marriage and taking off for Japan two days later.Ā
He left, leaving you back in America while he returned to his home country to continue baseball there; abandoning his American team in the middle of their journey to the championships.Ā
He had given you an opportunity to move on, to become the person he always prevented you from being,Ā and so you took it.
You cut all forms of communication, threw out everything of his that he didnāt take when he left, and moved into your own apartment. It was a fresh start, a clean slate, and you finally had the chance to chase after your dream career, just like he had been doing.Ā Ā
So, you did, and you didnāt give up. You refused to, you owed this to yourself, and you werenāt going to waste any more time pouring effort into someone who didnāt appreciate it.Ā
So, you worked, tirelessly, anxiously, until the day came when your newest novel finally become a bestseller all around the nation, and you were officially titled a successful author.Ā
Now it was your turn, to stand in front of a crowd of adoring fans, to sign autographs and attend fan events. It almost reminded you of your ex-husband, how people used to scream his name and cheer for his success. But now they were cheering for you, supporting you like he hadnāt. You almost laughed at the irony of it all. Five years ago, you wouldāve never imagined the life youād made for yourself now, celebrating your fourth bestselling novel in a row and becoming a well-known author like you always dreamed of.Ā
And yet, looking back, none of this wouldāve been possible had you not been set free from the restraints your marriage to Ken Sato had bound you to. Without him and the neglect he subjected you to, you wouldnāt have worked as hard as you did. So really, in a way, you had him to thank for how far youāve come and all the success youāve accomplished. Because if he never signed those papers five years ago, you would still be tied down to a one-sided marriage.Ā
But you werenāt,Ā and thank God for that.
Now you had moved on, and so had he.Ā
Or so you thought.Ā
Little did you know, Ken Sato was on a mission, and not as Ultraman this time. After undergoing the change and maturity necessary to become a parent to a kaiju infant, Kenji realized he needed to make things right between the two of you. Even if it had been five years since he last saw you.Ā
He wasnāt looking to ask you to take him back and rekindle your marriage, though he wouldnāt have minded if that ended up happening. Instead, he simply wanted to apologize for his actions, for being such a crappy husband back then. He had reflected a lot on the subject of your marriage over the past couple years, but, he never reached out in fear of your reaction to seeing him again.Ā
Although, after avoiding it for long enough, and getting a lecture about taking responsibility from his dad, he finally decided to go through with it and booked a flight back to America.Ā
He was nervous to say the least, but he knew he couldnāt back out. Even if you screamed and yelled at him, he had to take accountability for his past actions and apologize for the pain heād caused you, for pushing you to the back burner while he allowed baseball to take priority in his life.Ā
Heād made peace with himself and his father already, thanks to the help of his adoptive daughter. So now it was time to make peace with you. And as he watched the plane lift off the ground from his window seat, he held his breath, wondering how you would react to seeing him again after so many years.Ā
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Tags : @thebadbatch @rlc-gg
If you want to be tagged in any of my works, whether itās for a certain series, fandom, or character, please let me know in the comments below so that I can add you :)
Keep in mind that commenting to tell me what you liked, what you donāt, how I can improve, and any suggestions you have, helps me A LOT more than simply liking my posts. If youāve had the time to read my story, how much longer does it take to leave me some feedback on it? :)
Summary : At first glance, Ken Sato seemed to have it all. With money, fame, and success surrounding his name, there was nothing he couldnāt get his hands on. They say money can buy happiness. That may be true to an extent, however, can money buy forgiveness? Unfortunately for Ken, no amount of money and influence can turn back time and change the past. No amount of bribery can erase the fact that he had chosen to abandon his wife in favor of pursuing his baseball career. That awful decision he made took place five years ago, when he was just starting out as a professional athlete. But now that heās matured and had time to reflect on his actions, can he hope for a chance to rekindle his marriage? Or should he accept defeat and live with the consequences of letting the only woman heās ever truly loved slip away from him?
Fic Warnings : abandonment, angst, forced proximity, mentions of cheating and infidelity, tense relationships
Chapters :
One | Two | Three |
Series Status : In progress
This fic, and everything else I've written on my blog, is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.
Yes, there is a taglist for this series, so if anyone wants to be added to it please let me know in the comments below.
General Masterlist | Miscellaneous Masterlist | Blog Home |
ā ļøAttentionā ļøpeople on my tag listsā ļø - it takes a LONG TIME for me to tag all of you, so please, out of courtesy of me, leave a comment or reblog at the very least since I'm taking the time to tag you <3
Keep in mind that commenting to tell me what you liked, what you donāt, how I can improve, and any suggestions you have, helps me A LOT more than simply liking my posts. If youāve had the time to read my story, how much longer does it take to leave me some feedback on it? :)
- Iāve kind of been unintentionally starving you guys of contentš but Iām back now hehe and I apologize. I hadnāt been prioritizing my writing at all and I was putting it off to the point where I hadnāt written in months. But Iām practicing more discipline now and I finally wrote something for the first time in months!!
NEW CONTENT: ā¬ļø
So, Iām staring a new series! Itās a Ken Sato (Ultraman Rising) x fem reader au. And I just finished chapter one so itās ready to post!š
Most of my followers have completely different time zones so itās hard for me to post at a time good for everyone. So pleasešš» if youāre interested in reading it when itās posted, please comment and asked to be tagged !!
***And for those of you waiting for part 4 of āMy Angel,ā Iām gonna start working on it next so that will be out soon as well.
I thank you all for your patience and support! Love you guys!š«¶š»
Tags for āMy Angelā readers:
@nervouslad @ah-finally @usagikookiejams @setangel @yoongistangerinez @cyberdollface @realglittereater @avitute @unwindwithme @bucky-lents @maaralo @buckysgirl01 @jadasz @viiiik @ducklingstrand @dressycobra7 @galactict3a @viena-vie @whoelsehasthathair @thebadbatch (a lot of you I wasnāt able to tag but Iāll keep trying)
UPDATE !
The Ken Sato x fem reader fic has officially been posted
Hello!!! <3 I appreciate your love and support so much! Of course you have my permission, I am flattered you like it so much that you want to translate it. Just please make sure to tag me in the repost. Thank you!! :)))
