Written for the femdom challenge I co-hosted with @defmaybe and @toshyun on Fanprose. Prompt was mommy kink, hence
“We had an appointment! Check the schedule. Minister Wallis of South Merisia? Princess Royal Koma Mayu?! It was made well over a month ago!”
The Butler nods and smiles. “I am aware, Minister. However, Her Royal Highness is not accepting any visitors presently.”
“What—” The Minister huffs and throws his arms up, rubbing his forehead. “These are no small matters at stake! She can’t just…just—this is preposterous!”
“She will be occupied for the entire day, Minister. Tomorrow may be the earliest you can visit. We will contact you with any further updates. I deeply apologise for the inconvenience.”
“Tomorrow?!” The Minister sighs, his shoulders slumping. “And what do you mean may? You don’t know her schedule either?”
The Butler gives a full bow. “I deeply apologise, Minister. We can offer to set you up with accommodations nearby, if you’d like.”
“Bah. I can manage that myself fine, thank you. Let’s go, Colonel,” he nods at his aide. “Bloody royals just play around with their own schedules, apparently.” The Butler breathes out a sigh as he watches them storm away, looking over his back.
So, what exactly has the Princess Royal so occupied that she’s cancelled all the appointments for the day, no matter with who?
***
The answer is that she’s got you pinned down on her bed, fingers wrapped around your shaft, jerking up and down while twisting side to side, all with a gleeful grin on her face. You, in contrast, are whimpering, quivering, sweat and tears running down your cheeks. Your throbbing tip leaks precum almost as quickly, balls swollen and aching from the seventh edging of the day.
Mayu’s somehow perfectly in tune with your resistance too, knowing precisely how to get you to the very edge and when to stop, denying the release your whole body is so desperately yearning for. “You getting tired? My boy getting tired? It’s only been an hour…” she giggles maniacally, moving her hand faster.
“Uhh! N–No! I can…can take—mmhhh! Can hold it! As long as you want, Your Highness!” you wheeze. If your mind were clearer, you’d applaud yourself for lasting this long. But alas, it’s clouded by pain and pleasure.
Mayu pouts and slaps your balls, making you flinch hard. “Hmph! You forgot already? Do I have to say it again?”
“No! No…I’m sorry!” Your eyes shoot wide open, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Your Hi—I mean, I’m sorry, m–mommy…”
A wide grin returns to her face. “Attaboy. Thought I was gonna have to kick you out there.” She rewards you with a long lick along the bottom vein, her tongue flat and slow. A string of what might be human language spills from your mouth as a result, the lights in your head flickering with a loud buzz.
“Now, you don’t wanna get kicked out of the estate butt naked, do you?” Mayu’s sweet, gentle voice is almost maternal, easily scrambling what semblance of pride you have left. “Don’t wanna get back to being a…worthless—wage—slave?” she asks slowly, kissing different parts of your cock.
“N–No! No, mommy! I wanna be…wanna…” Your mouth’s getting dry from all the crying and moaning. “Wanna be—yours. All yours, mommy!”
Mayu giggles. That soft, adorable look which is the only look the media sees most times. “Slut.” Not like this, though.
“Yes! I’m your slut! I’m mommy’s slut…mmhhh…”
“Say it for me again.” She wraps her lips around your head, suckling on it before releasing with a pop. “You’re worthless without me. Nothing if not my fucktoy,” she whispers, circling her fingertip around your slit.
“I’m—mmm…I’m worthless without you! Nothing if no—ahh!” Mayu takes you fully, going all the way down to her throat. “Nothing if not mommy’s fucktoy!” She hums and swipes her tongue in big circles, stimulating every surface that’s become hyper sensitive. You start sobbing above her again, hands locked to your sides as she instructed despite your desperate instincts to push her down by the hair.
Mayu’s mouth is more ferocious than it was the previous two cycles, your tip knocking on the back of her throat with tangible, filthy glucks. Not at all something you ever expect to hear from a royal, what with how they’ve branded themselves to the people.
Frankly, you never expected to be this up close with a royal, for any purpose. They always seemed distant. Unaffected by the troubles of the commoners. And you weren’t sure whether your resentment towards them was borne from the systemic inequality or your exclusion from the elusive clique that they’ve formed.
“Hey. Hey! What’re you thinking about? Where’s your head at?” Mayu scowls, saliva drooling from her swollen lips as she catches her breath. “I–I, uh…I was—”
“Were you distracting yourself to last longer?” she smirks, tilting her head.
“It…uh, maybe?”
She sucks through her teeth. “Be honest with me. Yes or no, baby?”
“Yes, mommy! Definitely. I was…I’m doing everything I can to–to make mommy happy.”
“Mmm, cute.” Mayu chuckles and clasps her lips around your balls, tickling the seam with quick juts of her tongue tip. You let out a deep bellow, curling your toes so hard they’re shaking, on the border of cramping. She releases with a loud pop, licking up the precum that trickled down your length in the meantime.
“Okay, enough playing for now. Let’s see if you can do what I brought you in here to.” She rises to her feet and unties her silk robe, letting it part down the middle. Your vigour feels reignited by the sight, cocking your head up. Mayu giggles and pulls her robe back together, and you let out a primal grunt at the denial.
“Hehe. Wanna see more, baby?”
You sit up and nod frantically. “Y–Yes, mommy.”
She hums and swings her body side-to-side. “Beg for it. Tell me what you want.”
“I–I wanna—” You swallow to lubricate your dry throat. “I wanna see all of you, mommy. Please, please let me see everything, mommy. Please…”
“Good boy.” Mayu bends forward to grab your chin, slowly licking from your Adam's apple, stopping by at your chin before going to your earlobe, nibbling on it. “You’re a good little peasant boy, aren’t you?” she purrs.
“Y–Yes! Yes, I am!” you shudder.
“For who?”
“For you, mommy! Only for you…”
With a satisfied hum, she straightens back up, pushing her robe back and letting it fall from her shoulders. Her smooth, bare naked form is finally presented to you, even doing a little twirl. Your eyes are the most open they’ve been in an hour, jaws dropped loosely. Feels like you couldn’t stop ogling unless someone broke your neck.
Or unless Mayu makes you look somewhere else, which isn’t at all difficult for her. She gracefully strides forward and slides into your lap, making your breath hitch at the renewed proximity.
“You’re really hard down there,” she whispers, her warm breath tickling your cheek.. “It’s poking at my belly.”
“I, er…thank you?”
She bursts out laughing, a noise so wholesome and bright you could almost forget that she has the power to decimate you. “You’re sounding more and more like a keeper. Let’s really put that to the test.” Lifting herself to clear your length, she lines you up and sinks down in one fell swoop. The soft moan she lets out is immediately drowned out by your sharp cry, almost bursting then and there with how unbelievably wet and hot her pussy is.
“Ahh! M–Mommy…it–it’s so…I—aghh…”
Mayu shuts you up with a fiery kiss, biting and pulling your lips so hard it breaks skin. She pulls off for a single breath, then suckles on the wound, licking up the blood. Your eyes flutter under the volley of stimulations, cock throbbing within her.
“Mmh! Don’t tell me you’re close already, we barely started,” she pouts.
You sob and shake your head. “I’m sorry, Mommy…I can’t help it! You fe—ahh, feel too good…”
Mayu shoots a disapproving squint before cackling, raising herself up to your tip then slamming back down. Your hands fly to her butt as you throw your head back, wheezing. “You better help it, baby,” she coos. “You’re not—and no touching! Hands off.” They obey before you tell them to, trembling as they fall to your sides.
“You don't finish before I do, and you don’t touch me or move unless I say so. Understand, baby?” she asks sweetly, putting her arms around your neck.
You clench your jaws and swallow before replying, “Understood, mommy.”
“And if you don’t do what I say…” Mayu begins rolling her hips, dragging your hardness along her warmth. “I’m kicking you out exactly as you are right now. And you’ll go back to being the worthless…mmm…bottom feeder that you were.”
You seethe and nod as you direct all remaining energy to holding on, by any means; gripping the sheets, clenching your jaws, tightening your thighs. “And you won’t be going back to that shitty job I plucked you out of,” she giggles and groans at a particular stroke against her sensitive spot. “No…you won’t be going back to any job. No one will employ you. I’ll—fuck…that’s so hard! I’ll personally make sure of that.”
Mayu’s moans get louder and sharper as she ramps up her speed. You start bawling, not just from the higher intensity but also the true gravity of the situation. You’re now literally fighting for your life, as there is no life for you outside of this manor. Outside of her world. Not anymore.
“Mommy…”
“You’ll be beyond worthless. You will be…invisible!” She laughs maniacally. “Now you don’t want that, do you baby?”
“N–No!”
“No…you want to be mommy’s personal fucktoy,” she purrs, caressing your temple.
“Yes!”
“My cum dispenser,”
“Mmm…”
“My walking, blabbering...fucking pet.”
“Yes! Yes! Yes! Anything you want, mommy! Just don’t kick me out, please…anything for you…”
“Aw, so—ahh…adorable.” She kisses you deep but gentle, briefly slowing herself down. Pulling away, she glances down at her chest. “You want these? Want mommy’s milkers?”
You take a good gander at them again. The little time your eyes had spent open was fixed on her face, hardly noticing the supple mounds and the pink buds jutting from them. “Mhm! I wanna…wanna suck them, mommy. Wanna squeeze them.”
“Then do it. Don’t half-ass it, or you’re never touching them again.” You don’t even acknowledge before engorging on one of them, kneading the other. Your mouth is ravenous in its slurping, as if trying to gather every morsel of surface particulate. Teeth and tongue nibble at her stiff nipples. Your hand is far from idle as well, finally getting some action. It gropes like a climber’s does when they scale cliffs, pinching and rolling the other bud between your fingers.
Mayu’s reaction is immediate, a few broken gasps slipping as she pushes you into her. “F–Fuck! Right there, baby…just like that. So—ahh! So good…” Her hips return to speed, even harsher than before. Moist, crisp claps are emitted as she impales herself. You cope by switching to her other breast, gnawing on them, blowing into them.
“Oh my God! Ahh, it—that…touch me, touch me! My ass, my clit, everything! I’m…I—ughh! I’m actually getting close…”
No complaints there. Your hands get busy with her body. Spreading her ass, flicking her slit in a mad dash to find her clit. Mayu shouts when you pass a specific spot and you lock in on that; rubbing, rolling, twiddling, pushing into it. That utterly breaks the remainders of her royal composure as she bellows various curses between her long, whiny moans.
Her walls leak profusely, twitching around you. You’re fast nearing the end of your rope as well, the stakes are higher than ever. “Mommy, I’m so close…” you whimper. “I dont—ahh! I can’t hold it much longer…”
“Just a little bit more, baby,” she whines and braces herself on your shoulders. “Just—a little bit—more! Shit! You can move now, fuck me! Fuck me!”
With a loud grunt, you start thrusting up in time with her bounces. Mayu begins sobbing as well, albeit with a wide, euphoric grin. Your combined noises fill up the vast bedroom, drowning out any semblance of outside noise.
Mayu arches her back sharply as she detonates, jamming herself hard like she’s trying to become one with you. Her pussy jettisons a torrent of juices, soaking everything underneath it. Her walls constrict in sporadic, powerful waves, and you lose it.
“Mommy! I’m cumming! Cum—” The rest dies in your throat as you erupt, firing multiple volleys of your seed deep inside her. The sensation blurs your vision and most of your other senses, all overwhelmed by the long pent-up release.
“Yes…that’s it, fill me up. Make me a mommy…” Mayu rolls her hips slowly even as her entire frame trembles, making sure to milk every little drop of your discharge. By the time you finish spurting, your whole body feels like jelly, collapsing backwards under her weight.
Mayu rolls off with a soft hum, your cock slithering out weakly. She lays back to catch her breath, then spreads her legs to observe your combined release. “Wow, quite a great amount…and you lasted. Well done, baby.” She plants a soft kiss on your forehead. “You have earned your keep. You’re a very useful peasant after all.”
“T–Thanks, mommy.”
“Ah-ah.” She puts a finger on your lips. “We’re done with that for the time being. Address me as per the custom.”
“Right. Then, I am…grateful for the opportunity you’ve given me, Your Highness.”
“Very well.” Mayu stretches her arms out and flops back on the bed. “Return to your quarters and wash up. You’re done for noon, but we’ll continue tonight.”
You swallow a gulp, cock twitching again despite yourself. “Yes, ma’am.” You breathe out a sigh and summon what energy you have left to sit up, turning to glance between her legs. “By the way, is that…will you really get…pregnant?”
Mayu chuckles, tilting her head to look at you. “Likely not. I’ve been on contraceptives for the past two weeks.” She sits back up, moaning slightly as the soreness catches up with her. “And we’ll use that to its full advantage. Every two days, you’ll fulfil my desires, and perhaps…” That cheeky smirk adorns her face again. “ …I’ll let you fulfill yours on occasion.”
You stand up with a groan. “Understood, ma’am.” You start gathering your clothes, dressing up enough to be presentable. As you’re about to bow her goodbye, a big question arises, or resurfaces, rather. A smaller question is whether it’s appropriate to ask now, but the fact that you’ve been inside and handled by this woman gives it good assurance.
***
“Er, there is something else I’d really like to know, Your Highness.”
“Mhm, pray tell.”
“Why?” you shrug. “Why did you snatch—er, pluck me up from the streets? Invite me into your fold for…this? I mean, I am immensely grateful, but…why me? Like you said, I was a no-good wage slave—I’d probably have worked to my death back there.”
“Hmm.” Mayu taps her chin. “Let’s just say—oh dear, this is quite a mess. Bring me a towel, will you?” You make a quick trip to her massive bathroom to grab a small towel and hand it to her. “Thank you. As I was saying, you were incredibly lucky, darling. It’s…” she sighs as she wipes herself clean. “It’s my father. Your King.”
“I’m never getting the throne, by virtue of not being his son. So, he just…pampers me. A whole lot. Doesn’t want me to do anything too risky or adventurous.” She scoffs and throws the towel down. “What occasional ‘adventure’ I do get is meeting those diplomats. Like that isn’t a minefield of its own.”
“Perhaps he’s…trying to set you up with one of their princes? But can’t say it too outwardly, so…” Mayu shoots you a glance that scrambles the rest of your thoughts. “I’m sorry if–if that was out of line, Your Highness.”
“No, no, you’re right.” She raises a hand, smiling. “Heh. You’re more intuitive than some…individuals in the Palace,” she chuckles. “Anyways, since I can’t have much fun outside the manor, I thought I’d make my own fun.”
She eyes you up and down slowly, biting her lip as she starts to saunter towards you, picking up her robe along the way. “And seeing you on that street, berated in public by that vile boss of yours…” Her voice’s dropped back to that octave which chills your spine. “…you seemed like a decent subject for my entertainment,” she purrs, getting right up in your face.
Her fingers lightly dance over your crotch, eliciting a quiet croak from you. “And what do you know, I was mostly correct.”
You force your eyes to meet hers. “M–Mostly, ma’am?”
“Mhm. You’ve proved yourself for the short term. Prove yourself for the long term…” She turns around and slowly grinds her silk covered ass down your bulge, keeping eye contact as she does. “ …and you may advance from a mere useful subject. The child I bear may very well be yours, darling.”
You shudder at the potential future, along with the heat returning to your loins. “I–I…that would be…a great honor, Your Highness. I will keep it in mind.”
“It’s best you do,” Mayu giggles, giving you a light peck on the cheek before returning to her bed. “Now, go along. Rejuvenate yourself. If what you gave me just now was your everything, you need to move that threshold for tonight.”
You straighten up and give her a sharp, firm bow. “Will do, Your Royal Highness. I will retreat to my quarters. Have a good day.”
“Ta.” She blows a kiss goodbye. Just before you open the door, you look back at her. “Oh, and…it may be wise to empty your schedule for tomorrow, ma’am.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
For the first time in a while, your little smile is borne of confidence. “Because you won’t be walking straight by then.”
Mayu bursts out laughing, resting her chin on her fist. “Remember where you came from, darling. Don’t utter all that big talk…” She glances down and licks her top lip. “ …before you take away my ability to.”
You chuckle giddily, turning the door handle. “Duly noted, Your Highness.”
Your life after that took on a dullness that followed you everywhere you went.
Days passed in the slow, unremarkable way they often do after something devastating.
You moved through each day as if you were learning to live without something that had always been there.
The wedding invitation remained on your nightstand, shifted occasionally from one part of your room to another, but never thrown away. Sometimes you turned it face down, other times you tucked it beneath a book as if hiding it might also hide the decision waiting inside it. By evening, it always found its way back into view.
Whether to go should have been simple.
Every sensible reason pointed in one direction.
Don’t go.
Don’t stand in a room dressed for celebration while your chest caves in quietly beneath rented lighting and floral arrangements.
Don't watch Mayu walk toward a future you once built in daydreams.
Don't shake hands with the man who was brave in all the places you had been careful.
Don't become a witness to the fruit of your own absence.
The logic was there, you didn't need to think twice.
Yet grief rarely respects logic.
Because another voice kept answering.
Go because she asked you once, long before any of this, if you would be there when it mattered.
Go because you had spent years loving her in silence, and silence had already cost enough.
Go because some part of you still wanted one final look, even if it ruined you.
You hated that voice most of all.
At night, you lay awake replaying the scene in your apartment with the obsessive cruelty memory reserves for fresh wounds. Her standing by the window. Her saying she loved you. Her saying it too late.
You revisited every expression, every pause, as if somewhere inside them there might be a version of events that ended differently.
But there was none.
Some mornings, your anger made the decision for you.
You would stare at the invitation and think, absolutely not.
Let her marry without your blessing. Let her wonder if you stayed away because you hated her. Let your absence speak where words have failed.
By afternoon, the anger thinned.
Then came the tenderness that was equally unhelpful.
You would remember her laughing in your apartment over that old DVD. The way she straightened the photograph before setting it back. The tremor in her voice when she said she had loved you badly.
And suddenly not going felt less like a choice and more like another unfinished what-if between you.
So the days kept passing, and the answer kept changing.
You tried to imagine each version of yourself.
The man who stayed home, who muted his phone and endured the day by refusing to know what time vows were exchanged.
The man who attended, smiled politely, applauded at the right moments, and died in small invisible ways throughout the reception.
Neither looked admirable. Both looked tired.
By the week’s end, the invitation was bent at one corner from being handled too often.
You sat at your kitchen table with it in your hands and understood something bitterly simple.
There had never been an easy answer.
A thought came to you with the kind of clarity that only arrives after days of thinking of every other possibility.
Maybe this was how moving on began.
Not with speeches, not with sudden strength nor promises and not with waking up one morning mysteriously healed.
You had spent too long living inside alternate versions of your life. Worlds where you confessed sooner. Worlds where she chose differently. Worlds where timing was useful for once. Worlds where one brave sentence from either of you changed everything that followed.
You had built entire memories from ifs.
If you had spoken in university.
If you had kissed her that night after the festival.
If you had stopped answering her calls.
If she had been honest.
If you had been less careful.
If love had ever been enough on its own.
Those versions of life had kept you company, but they had also kept you where you were.
As long as possibility remained hidden, some part of you would keep feeding it, keep polishing it, keep returning to it when the real world felt too much.
Maybe the only way forward was to watch the door close with your own eyes.
To see her walk toward someone else under full light, with witnesses, with vows, with music, with all the ceremony required to kill a daydream properly.
To stand there and know, finally, that no hidden chapter was waiting after this one because grief thrives in uncertainty, it grows in hesitation, unanswered questions, and in things that almost were.
Truth, even the brutal truth, was a pill that was difficult to swallow yet you still could.
You looked down at the invitation in your hands.
The corner was creased. Your thumb had worn a faint softness into the paper from holding it too often.
Maybe this was evidence.
Evidence that something real had existed, even if it had never become what you wanted. Evidence that you had loved deeply enough to be broken by it. Evidence that life does not always reward sincerity, but that sincerity still counts for something.
You exhaled slowly.
Maybe going would destroy the last of your hope.
Maybe that was exactly what hope had become, something that needed ending.
You imagined yourself there. Watching her smile. Watching her choose. Feeling something in you collapse and, afterward, realizing you were still standing.
That possibility felt almost merciful.
Because if you could survive the worst version of it, then everything after might finally become peaceful.
No more rehearsing confessions to an empty room.
No more checking your phone when it buzzed.
No more treating the past with regret.
Eventually it'll only be silence, plain and clean, instead of pain mixed with imagination.
You set the invitation on the table and stared at it for a long time.
Then you reached for your phone and checked the ceremony time again.
Not to make a decision.
But because you already had one.
You arrived in front of the hall an hour early before the main event started.
From the back seat of the taxi, you watched the entrance through the tinted window.
Guests were already arriving in small groups. Men adjusted their cuffs and coat hems before stepping out of cars. Women smoothed dresses at the waist, checked lipstick in compact mirrors, lifted skirts over puddles that weren't there.
Older relatives moved slower, carrying envelopes. Younger couples arrived holding hands until they reached the doors, then separated just enough to look formal again.
At a table near the entrance, two attendants smiled as people signed the guest book, pens passing from hand to hand. Cards were placed into a polished box.
Then everyone disappeared inside.
You stayed where you were.
The driver glanced at you once in the mirror, then wisely chose to not say anything.
The air conditioner hummed softly. Somewhere on the radio, a song played low enough to not be a bother.
You looked down at your hands.
They were steady, which felt insulting.
Outside, another taxi pulled up. A laughing group of friends got out, one of them carrying a bouquet wrapped in pale paper. Someone nearly forgot a gift bag and had to run back for it. Their laughter rang briefly across the curb before the doors swallowed it.
You wondered what it must feel like to arrive happy.
Your gaze lifted to the hall again.
White flowers framed the entrance, the same ones she picked. Gold lettering displayed the couple’s names on a polished board with her name beside his.
You looked away.
There was still time to tell the driver to leave.
You imagined giving an address at random, going home, taking off the suit and spending the afternoon face down in bed while somewhere across the city vows were exchanged without your witness.
Part of you wanted the easy way out.
Another part knew you had not come this far for mercy.
A staff member opened the main doors wider as more guests arrived. Through the gap, you caught a glimpse of warm light, floral arrangements, people moving inside like figures in another life.
The driver cleared his throat gently.
“Sir,” he said, “are you getting out?”
You stared at the entrance a moment longer.
Then you reached for the handle.
You stepped outside, and the city met you with its usual self, traffic continued, a bus sighed to a stop at the curb, someone across the street laughed into a phone call that had nothing to do with you.
The sky remained bright, untroubled. It was almost mocking you with how ordinary the world could stay on the day you were asking it to witness something private and catastrophic.
You paid the driver, thanked him out of habit, and closed the door.
Then you crossed the road.
The suit jacket sat neatly on your shoulders, your shoes clicked against stone with more confidence than you felt.
By the time you reached the steps, another couple had fallen into pace beside you. They were talking quietly about table numbers. You let them pass first, grateful for the cover of strangers.
At the top, the attendants turned to you with the same polished warmth they had offered everyone else.
“Welcome,” one of them said with a practiced smile. “Thank you for coming.”
You nodded.
The other gestured toward the guest book table.
“Please sign in here, sir.”
The pen felt oddly heavy in your hand.
Rows of names already filled the pages. Friends, relatives, colleagues, people who belonged cleanly to this day. You searched for an empty line longer than necessary, then wrote your name in careful strokes.
“I'm glad you could make it.” You looked up, placing the pen on the guest book.
Rin approached you from the entrance, standing clean and confidently in the suit he was about to be wedded in.
You gathered enough will to etch on a believable smile as you reached and shook his hand.
“I told her I was going,” you replied. “I wasn't really planning on missing a big day.”
Liar.
Up close, he looked exactly as he always had whenever you had briefly met him before, put together, honest, easy in his own skin. There was a hint of nervousness there too, but it was the softest kind, the nerves of someone about to promise forever, not the nerves of someone watching forever happen to someone else.
“Looking good,” he said, glancing at your suit.
For one dangerous second, you nearly told him she picked it.
Instead, you said, “Thanks.”
Rin adjusted his cuff absentmindedly, then looked back toward the hall doors where staff moved in quick, purposeful lines.
“Everything’s a blur today,” he admitted. “I thought I’d be calm, but apparently my body disagrees.”
“You seem calm enough.”
“Outside, I’m trying to be calm.” He smiled. “Inside, I’m a nervous wreck.”
You nodded as if that were funny.
Part of you hated him for being kind.
Choosing to be cruel would have been easier and choosing to be arrogant would have been useful. If he had been smug or shallow or unattentive, you could have built an enemy out of him and carried that into the ceremony.
Instead, he was nothing else but a man in love.
Which made your loss feel less like robbery and more like failure.
Rin glanced at the guest book, then back at you.
“Mayu should still be in her dressing room.”
You snapped your head almost immediately before looking away again.
“Oh yeah?” you shrugged as you tried to keep anything from slipping. “I mean, she should be. The ceremony doesn’t start until an hour from now.”
“Would you like to see her?”
Your mind lurched in opposite directions at once.
No.
Yes.
Absolutely not.
More than anything.
You looked past him toward the hallway beyond the entrance where staff moved briskly in and around the place, where somewhere behind closed doors Mayu was preparing to be a bride in layers of silk, powder, nerves, and jewelry.
You imagined her seated before a mirror while hands adjusted her veil. Imagined her laughing too brightly to hide her nervousness. Imagined her alone for one brief second between preparations, staring at herself as if asking whether reflection counted as consent.
“I don’t want to interrupt,” you said.
“You won’t be interrupting anything.” Rin’s smile held no suspicion, only warmth. “She’s been looking for you since she got here.”
That sentence struck harder than it should have.
Even now, even here, she was reaching backward while stepping forward.
You swallowed.
“I’m sure she has enough on her mind.”
“She does,” he said lightly. “Which is why seeing a good friend might help.”
You almost declined again. You should have. There was still dignity available in small portions far from this.
Rin gestured toward a side corridor. “Come on. I’ll walk you there.”
You followed before common sense could catch up.
The hallway behind the main lobby was quieter, carpeted thick enough to muffle footsteps. The noise of arriving guests faded behind closed doors, replaced by distant voices, the rustle of fabric, a burst of laughter from some unseen room, then silence again.
Framed photographs of flowers lined the walls and everything smelled faintly of perfume and the specific smell of polished wood.
Rin walked beside you with the relaxed pace he always had.
He stopped in front of a door, “I’ll leave you here. I’m afraid the groom can’t see the bride before the wedding starts.” he says with an easy grin, tapping the door once with the back of his knuckles.
“Apparently I’m only allowed to ruin tradition after the ceremony,” he added.
You managed something that resembled a smile.
Rin rested a hand briefly on your shoulder, the gesture casual and sincere enough to be unbearable.
“Thanks for coming,” he said. “Really.”
He turned and walked back down the corridor, one hand slipping into his pocket, already being called by someone halfway down the hall.
You watched him go.
For a moment, you considered leaving.
The door stood in front of you, ordinary as any other door in any other building. Your hand slowly reached out as the same voice told you to walk away, to run, to keep distance and call it respect.
For once, you didn’t listen. Your hand held the knob and turned it to click open.
The room beyond blinded you with light.
Not brightly in the harsh sense, but golden, softened by bulbs circling a long mirror and the divided daylight slipping through half-drawn curtains. The air carried the mixed smell of sweet perfume, strong hairspray, and fresh flowers.
It wasn’t long before you saw her.
Mayu was sitting in front of her mirror, hands intertwining on her lap with her thumbs tapping against one another— something subtle she did when she was nervous.
For a second, you didn’t move.
You just stood there, half inside the room, as if stepping any farther would push you to run away.
Mayu’s eyes met yours through the mirror.
Her hands stilled.
The small, restless movement of her thumbs stopped like it had been caught mid-thought.
She turned, slowly, carefully, as if even that needed to be done right today.
For a second that stretched longer than it should’ve, neither of you said anything.
“Hey.” you broke the silence first, raising a hand before being unsure what to do with it.
“You came.” her voice wasn’t loud, but it crossed the room anyway.
“I said I would, didn’t I?” you closed the door behind you.
Her eyes grazed over your suit, “You wore it.”
“You picked it for me.” you walked closer, taking each step with intent of not breaking in front of her.
“I didn’t think you would listen.”
“I don’t, usually.”
A faint smile touched her lips but it didn’t stay long.
The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It pressed in from all sides, filled with everything you hadn’t said in your apartment, everything she had said too late.
Mayu stood.
She moved carefully, gathering a small part of her dress as she stepped toward you, the fabric sweeping softly against the floor.
“I came here to watch you get married,” you said then added right after, “And to apologize.”
Mayu’s lips opened, as if she was about to object but you spoke again.
“I meant what I said back then but I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you, I didn’t mean to scare you away.”
Mayu stared at you as if the apology had arrived in the wrong language.
For a moment, she only blinked then she shook her head once, small and immediate.
“No.” The word came out soft, but certain. “You shouldn’t apologize for that.”
“I want to.”
“You should just be angry at me because you have every right to be.” Her voice trembled on the last word.
You looked away first, toward the table cluttered with brushes, pins, a lipstick left uncapped.
“I still shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
Mayu stepped closer, the hem of her dress whispered over the floor.
“You think you scared me?” she asked quietly.
“You walked out.” You met her eyes again.
“I walked out because you were right.” She drew in a breath, thinking of her words.
“I left because for the first time, I heard what I had done from your side. Not the version I told myself. Not the softer one where I was confused, or overwhelmed, or unlucky.” Her fingers tightened around the folds of her skirt. “The real version.”
You said nothing.
Because there was nothing to defend.
Because truth had already done its work.
“I went home,” she continued, “and I sat on the floor in my apartment and cried for the next hour.”
Despite everything, the image of her nearly loosened you.
“I kept hearing you say I took years from you.” her eyes filled again, though her tone stayed the same. “And I hated that it was true.”
“I didn’t come here to make you cry before your wedding.” You swallowed.
“Too late now.” a weak laugh escaped her.
You looked at her properly then, at the careful makeup that hid the bags under her eyes, at the pearls at her throat, at the veil waiting behind her like a door she was ready to go through.
“You look beautiful,” you said, the words slipped out before pride could stop it.
“W—what?” Mayu’s breath caught.
“I remember you asking how you looked with the dress,” you smiled, despite the moment. “I just figured out what to say now.”
A sound left her that was almost a laugh and almost a sob.
“You’re unbelievable,” she said, covering her mouth for a moment as tears gathered anyway. “You wait until now?”
“I’ve never been known for timing.”
“That much is true.”
She dabbed carefully beneath one eye, trying not to disturb the work someone had spent an hour creating.
You watched her do it and thought, absurdly, that heartbreak required a surprising amount of maintenance.
When she lowered her hand, she was smiling through it. Not long after, you watched you step closer and closer until she stood in front of you.
Her arms then placed themselves around you, pulling you deeper.
For one stunned second, you did not move.
Your body forgot every instruction it had rehearsed on the way here. Keep distance. Be polite. Survive this. Leave intact.
Then instinct took over dignity.
Your arms came around her slowly, then fully.
The dress was softer than you expected, layered fabric and delicate structure beneath your hands. Beneath that, her body trembled with the effort of holding itself together.
You closed your eyes.
This was bad for you in every possible sense.
The scent of her hair, the warmth of her against you, the familiarity so immediate it passed thought entirely. Your hands remembered her before your mind could object.
Outside the room, someone laughed in the hallway.
Inside it, the world had narrowed to breath and heartbeat.
“I hate you,” she whispered into your shoulder.
You let out a soft, broken laugh.
“I doubt it.”
When Mayu pulled back, there were faint marks of her makeup on the fabric of your suit. She reached up slowly, thumb brushing them away slowly as she looked up at you.
“Thank you.” she said. “For having stuck with me for so long, for always being so reliable, for being there when you didn’t want to and for choosing me even when you were scared. And I hope someone else does the same for you, someone that’s braver.”
A smile grew on your lips then, one that was bittersweet to the taste.
A knock sounded at the door suddenly.
“Mayu? Five minutes,” a woman called cheerfully, unaware of what was happening inside.
“I should go.” you told her, still with the same smile.
Mayu’s hand caught lightly at your sleeve before you could step back.
“Wait.” The word came out small, but urgent.
You looked at her.
Her fingers loosened immediately, as if even touching you now required permission she no longer believed she had. She let her hand fall between you.
“I mean...” She swallowed. “Not yet.”
Another knock sounded, gentler this time.
“Five minutes, Mayu.”
“Fine,” she called, though her eyes never left yours.
You nodded your head at her before you turned and your steps led you to the door.
Until you turned on your heel.
She had already turned around too, half way back to the front of the mirror when she heard you from behind.
“Koma Mayu!”
You shouted, not caring for the people on the other side of the door.
She turned around, brow raised at the sudden volume of your voice in the quiet room. Seeing you smile brightly across the room despite the tears welling in your eyes, she didn’t just see the man that stood there, she saw the boy who took the fall for her in elementary, the teenager that always walked her home and the young man that had loved her for years.
“I hope you live a happy life!”
You continued, arm finding itself raised from your side with your fist balled.
Mayu almost laughed at that but she held her expression down.
Then as her eyes gleamed and shimmered against the afternoon light to look back, you shouted again,
“I love you!”
You didn’t cry as you spoke the truth that had been hidden for so long. Instead, a laugh broke through your smile and one that she shared with you.
You waved at her now, one that meant goodbye for now but also meant I'll always be here.
That was when you reached for the door again and after one last look at her, you walked out.
The ceremony started not long after.
You chose to seat with a couple of old and recognizable classmates from way back then, some still certain that it should had been you waiting at the end of the altar but you didn’t say anything to object instead you just accepted their words and said,
“I guess I wasn’t really good with timing.”
That earned you a few small, knowing laughs that didn’t quite reach anyone’s eyes.
The hall was too bright for something like honesty to hide in it. Light spilled over everything in soft gold, floral arches, polished seats, the careful arrangement of a day that had been rehearsed into perfection. Even the air felt arranged, like it had been ironed flat.
Someone beside you leaned in slightly. “Still…weird, right?”
You didn’t ask what they meant since you already knew.
So you just gave a small shrug, the kind that doesn’t invite more afterwards, and kept your eyes forward.
The music began, gentle enough to make everything feel slower than it was.
And then she appeared.
Mayu.
For a second, your mind did that infuriating thing where it tried to protect you by pretending she didn’t know you yet, the illusion broke almost immediately, because there was no version of her that could ever be ordinary again once seen like this.
She stood at the entrance of the aisle, framed by light and white flowers that looked almost unreal against her, silk moved like water around her steps. The veil softened her outline behind the cloth, made her look slightly distant, like she had already begun crossing into somewhere you couldn’t follow.
Her hands were folded carefully in front of her.
You noticed that immediately.
She walked forward, each step was measured, but not effortless. There was something contained in it, something held tightly behind her ribs that no one else in the room seemed to notice.
Except maybe you.
Maybe only you.
Her eyes didn’t immediately search the crowd.
That was the first strange thing.
Instead, she kept them forward, fixed on the end of the aisle where Rin waited.
Rin stood there in a suit that fit him like certainty. He looked steady in a way that made the entire room feel more grounded just by comparison.
When she reached him, he smiled.
He looked like someone ready to take the next step forward and then he extended his hand.
Mayu didn’t hesitate before placing hers in it.
The ceremony began.
Words were spoken.
Promises were made.
The officiant’s voice rose and fell in practiced rhythm, turning something deeply irreversible into something that sounded almost gentle.
You didn’t hear most of it. Well, not really.
When it came time for vows, Rin spoke first.
His voice was steady, warm, unshaken in the way people sound when they believe in what they’re saying without needing to survive it first. He spoke about time, about choosing someone every day, about something like certainty shaped into language.
Mayu spoke next, voice steady like his and sure of the words she was reading off of. When she joked in between them, you laughed with the crowd and didn’t feel that pang that twisted inside of your chest.
Rin smiled at her when she finished speaking. Not the relieved kind. The kind that believed he had just heard something true.
The officiant spoke again, voice lifting toward the part everyone had been waiting for.
Then the question was asked.
It was simple.
It had always been.
And yet the entire room seemed to hold its breath.
Rin spoke first.
“I do.”
Applause flickered through the hall like a reflex before silence returned, gentler now, expectant.
All eyes turned to her.
Mayu stood there for a second longer than necessary, not enough for anyone else to notice, enough for you to feel it anyway.
Her fingers tightened faintly at her side as she spoke.
“I do.”
The room exhaled all at once, as if permission had finally been granted for everything to continue.
Someone beside you smiled. “See? Told you it was meant to be.”
You didn’t respond.
Because there wasn’t anything left in that moment that felt worth shaping into words.
The officiant continued speaking, voice smooth again, carrying the ceremony forward. Around you, the hall reacted exactly as it was supposed to. Applause softened into smiles then softened into relief that finally softened into celebration.
Rin and Mayu turned slightly toward each other as instructed, bodies aligning in practiced choreography. There was a brief pause before the next instruction, that small suspended gap where the world waits for something intimate to be made public.
Mayu’s hands remained steady.
That detail stayed with you longer than anything else.
The officiant lifted his hand slightly.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
Rin leaned in first.
The moment was gentle, deliberate, and carefully contained, like something placed down rather than taken.
The kiss was brief, not to show too much to the crowd.
The room responded instantly, applause rising like it had been waiting behind everyone’s teeth the entire time.
You clapped with them.
Beside you, someone let out a quiet laugh of satisfaction, same as the other people in the room.
Mayu pulled back after the kiss, her expression composed in the way people learn to be.
She smiled, the kind of smile that was practiced for the occasion.
Rin was smiling too.
The officiant spoke again, voice brightening as he announced them.
The hall rose gradually, chairs shifting, fabric moving, bodies preparing to transition from witnessing to participating.
You stayed seated a moment longer than most as applause continued.
Music began again, softer now, celebratory in a way that required no interpretation.
Rin and Mayu turned toward the crowd.
Hand in hand.
The beginning of something officially acknowledged.
Mayu’s gaze moved across the room again, slowly this time, as if acknowledging each section of the day she had agreed to belong to.
It passed over relatives.
Over friends.
Over rows of carefully arranged approval.
And then, for the briefest fraction of a second, it reached where you were standing.
It didn’t stop.
It didn’t linger.
But it did recognize you before moving on.
The applause did not change.
The music did not falter.
And the ceremony continued exactly as it was supposed to.
When the reception began winding down and each table was called one by one to take photographs with the newly married couple. You nearly forced yourself to leave before it was your turn.
You watched guests rise in groups, smoothing jackets, fixing hair, laughing as they made their way toward the stage where Mayu and Rin sat beneath flowers that had already begun to curl at the edges.
Every few minutes another burst of applause followed the camera shutter.
You checked your watch though you already knew the time. You reached for your coat though you had no real reason to. You considered slipping out through the side doors while everyone’s attention was elsewhere.
It would have been easy as quiet exits always are.
But each time you thought to stand, another table was called, and you remained where you were, caught between the urge to disappear and the strange obligation to stay long enough for her to see you.
Then someone over the mic called for your table.
You stood last, letting your old friends move ahead of you so their figures could become a temporary shield. They joked among themselves as they walked, unaware or kind enough to pretend they were unaware. You followed a step behind, hands in your pockets, eyes fixed somewhere near the floor.
The path to the stage felt longer than it should have.
By the time you reached it, everyone had already arranged themselves with the easy instinct of people who still belonged in one another’s lives. You took the remaining space at the edge of the group.
Mayu and Rin continued to smile as the other people huddled behind their seats.
“Sir, could you move a bit more to the center?” The photographer said, looking at your direction.
You hesitantly raised your hand and they nodded.
A few people shuffled aside to make room, someone patted your shoulder as if that made any of this simpler. You stepped forward, careful not to brush against anyone more than necessary, until you found yourself nearer the center than you had wanted.
Nearer to her than you had planned.
Mayu turned slightly when you approached. Up close, her makeup was still spotless, as if she hadn’t shed any tears during the ceremony and even before. She still looked beautiful in your eyes.
For a moment, her smile changed.
It did not disappear, but it loosened around the edges into something less public and more familiar. Something that remembered smaller rooms, ordinary afternoons, versions of both of you that no one else here had known.
“Thanks for staying,” she said softly enough that only you could hear.
You nodded once.
“Congratulations.”
The word came out clean, you were grateful for that much.
The photographer lifted his camera.
“Everyone closer, please.”
The group compressed inward. You felt Mayu’s arm brush lightly against yours as everyone adjusted for the frame.
“One more smile!”
The shutter clicked.
Then again.
And again.
When it was done, people relaxed instantly, already laughing, already stepping away, already moving toward the next part of the evening.
Mayu looked at you one last time.
There were a thousand things neither of you said, and perhaps that was enough.
“Take care,” she said.
“You too.”
Then someone called her name. Rin leaned in to answer another guest. A cousin tugged at her sleeve for another picture. The current of celebration reclaimed her without resistance.
You stepped down from the stage.
By the time the next table was being called, you were already walking toward the exit. Before you walked out, you excused yourself with reasons everyone pretended to believe, though the truth was simpler than any of them would have admitted. You had already seen everything you came there to see.
The air outside felt different, much colder than the air inside.
You stood at the curb for a moment longer than necessary, as though waiting for your body to catch up with the decision your mind had made minutes ago. Then you raised a hand.
A taxi slowed to the curb. You stepped inside.
The driver asked nothing at first, only a brief glance through the mirror.
You gave him your address, your voice spilling out steady enough to pass for ordinary.
As the car pulled away, the wedding hall receded behind traffic and distance, back into the city.
Streetlights passed in predictable turns across the window, people crossed intersections with groceries, umbrellas, conversations, all the small things of life that were still in motion. No one paused for what had ended inside you an hour earlier.
And the world continued whether you liked it or not.
-
Months passed after that.
You lived in a smaller, quieter version of life. One that asked little of you and, in return, offered to be as predictable as it could be.
Days returned to normalcy, though dimmer at some points, as if something that used to be there had been removed from the room. Work filled the hours in tidy portions. Meals happened when they were meant to happen and nights arrived without much struggle and left the same way.
Mayu remained absent from all of it.
Sometimes your phone would light up and your hand would pause for half a second, an old reflex refusing to change.
But it was never her name.
Eventually even that instinct learned to move on.
You told yourself this was what it was supposed to look like.
It wasn’t supposed to feel like triumph and you weren’t supposed to be healed overnight. Moving on was just the slow return of ordinary things.
And you start to regain the years you had lost, with newer experiences and newer memories that took space in your mind with other people.
-
One afternoon, you found yourself entering the same bakery she brought you along to but without her memories lingering in the air. Warmth wrapped around you immediately, carrying sugar, butter, and something faintly floral from the baked goods cooling behind glass.
The same display case. The same handwritten labels. The same neat rows of pastries were arranged like they had always been waiting for someone to choose carefully.
You approached the counter.
“How may I help you?” The attendant looked up with a practiced smile.
“Um, I was actually looking for a slice that I saw months ago. I’m not sure if it’s still available.”
“What was it?” They asked.
“The Gateau Debord? I think that was how you say it.” you chuckled, embarrassed by your own interpretation.
“Ah, I’m sorry. I’m afraid we just ran out.” The attendant replied.
You nodded in understanding when you heard rustling coming from the back then someone else walked out.
The same girl that had told you about the cake months ago.
She stepped out from the back with a small tray in her hands, pausing mid-step the moment her eyes landed on you.
For a fraction of a second, her expression didn’t change before recognition settled into a place where surprise had taken over.
“It’s you again—” she began, then stopped, as if deciding whether memory had the right to speak first.
You blinked once.
“Hey,” you said, because your brain defaulted to politeness before anything else could form.
“Can I help you with anything?” she asked, setting the tray down on the counter and looked over the display glass.
The other attendant then explained it to her before you could continue.
“Ah, I think I could help with that.” she smiled shyly looking at the two other people in the bakery.
Moments later, you were seated by the window. Outside, the street kept moving in its unbothered rhythm. Cars slid past in muted colors. A cyclist weaved through a gap like it had been there for him alone. Somewhere down the road, a bus sighed to a stop, then carried on without hesitation.
Inside, the bakery held its warmth around you.
A small plate was placed in front of you a few minutes later.
“Here you go, our last slice of Gateau Debord.” The attendant stood in front of your table, her tray folded neatly against her chest as she bowed her head.
“I thought you guys ran out.”
“We did…until I remembered I kept a slice hidden.” The attendant’s voice softened, eyes glancing over to yours then over to the empty seat in front of you.
You looked at her then leaned to the side to see the older attendant still at the counter.
“Does your boss know about this?”
She froze for half a second then she smiled, a little too quickly.
“It’s not exactly…against the rules,” she said, though her tone made it clear she wasn’t fully convinced by her own defense. “It was reserved. Just not officially labeled for today.”
Your eyes glossed over her nametag.
Kawai Ruka.
“Well, I’m really the type to take anything from someone else. I think you should have this.” You pushed the plate back. “I’ll take anything else.”
“R—really?” she said immediately before retracting, “I mean, you could have it.”
Her words came out too fast, like they were trying to outrun her hesitation.
You glanced at the slice on the plate again. It sat there neatly, almost too carefully presented for something that was apparently “not officially labeled for today.”
“I could,” you said, voice calm, “but it feels like something you’re supposed to regret later if you give it away that easily.”
Silence settled between you again, that wasn't uncomfortable letting the bakery’s soft hum fill it instead.
Ruka finally shifted her hands, fingers curling lightly around the edge of her apron.
“It was reserved,” she said again, softer this time, as if repeating it made it more legitimate. “Someone ordered it earlier and never picked it up. So technically… it would’ve been thrown away.”
You looked at her properly then.
“Then why don't we share it?”
Ruka blinked.
The suggestion seemed to reach her a second later than it should have, as if it had to pass through several layers of caution before arriving somewhere she could react from.
“Share it?” she repeated.
You gave a small shrug. “That way nobody steals from anyone, nobody breaks policy, and the cake gets shared between two people who apparently want it.”
Her fingers tightened around the tray she was still holding. For a moment, you thought she might refuse out of habit alone. Some people were so practiced at declining kindness that they mistook it for discipline.
Instead, she drew in a breath and glanced toward the counter where the older attendant was busy wrapping bread for another customer.
“I can take my break now,” she said after a pause.
She disappeared for a minute and returned without the apron, her nametag removed, her hair tied back more loosely than before.
She sat across from you by the window, careful in the way people sit when they are not yet sure they are meant to stay.
You moved the plate to the center of the table.
Ruka reached for a second fork she had brought and placed it beside yours. The metal touched porcelain with a small, clear sound before she took a small piece for herself.
You held in a laugh.
“Is it good?” you asked.
Ruka paused with the fork halfway back to the plate, as if the question required more care than it should have.
She finished chewing before answering.
“It is,” she said quietly. “Though I’m not sure if that’s because it’s actually good or because I’ve wanted to try it for weeks.”
A faint smile touched her mouth, brief and sudden.
You took a bite of your own.
The cake was rich without being too much, layered with dark sponge and cream that carried a bitterness just sharp enough to keep the sweetness level. It was better than you expected, that felt fitting somehow.
“It’s good,” you admitted.
“I told you.”
She seemed to realize what she’d said only after it had left her, and her eyes lowered immediately to the plate between you.
Outside, rain began without warning.
It started as dots against the glass, then steadied into the start of a shower. People quickened their pace. A man across the street unfolded an umbrella too late for him to stay dry.
The bakery lights grew brighter.
“The next time you go here, I'll make sure to have a fresh batch waiting.” she said after a moment.
You looked up at her.
“The next time?”
Ruka seemed to hear herself only then.
A faint flush rose to her face, subtle but noticeable. Her fingers adjusted needlessly around the fork in her hand.
“I mean,” she said carefully, eyes lowering to the plate, “if you come back here again.”
There was something earnest in the correction, and something smaller beneath it that did not want to be corrected at all.
“I guess I’ll come visit more often,” you said, a smile growing.
For a moment, she only stared at you, as if deciding whether that answer was serious or simply polite. Then she gave a small nod, the kind people offer when they do not trust themselves to say more.
Neither of you had noticed how long you had been speaking without names.
You set your fork down.
“I should probably introduce myself before I start promising repeat visits.”
Her eyes lifted again.
“You probably already saw mine,” she said softly, glancing toward where her nametag had been earlier.
“Kawai Ruka,” you said. “I saw it when you were deciding whether you wanted the slice for yourself.”
She let out a quiet laugh before trying to hide it behind her hand.
The laughter stayed in her eyes even after her mouth dropped down.
“And you?” she asked.
You told her your name.
She repeated it once under her breath, then once again more clearly.
“It's nice to meet you.” she said before seeming surprised at herself again.
You reached your hand out then.
“Likewise.”
Ruka slowly raised hers, shaking your hand gently.
Her palm was warm from the bakery, from plates and ovens and the steady labor of the afternoon. The touch was light, careful, as though she was uncertain how much of herself she was allowed to show.
That was when you felt it.
It wasn’t recognition exactly, nor was it memory. It was something older than both. The quiet shift inside your chest when life, without warning, gives you another chance at something you once thought had closed for good.
A breath left you before you could stop it.
Ruka’s eyes lifted to yours. They were clear in a way that made them difficult to hide from, carrying the kind of sincerity that asked for nothing yet still offered something.
Outside, rain pressed softly against the glass. Inside, warmth gathered around the table, around the unfinished cake, around two people who had not expected this afternoon to go into the way that it unfolded.
You held her gaze for one second longer than strangers usually do.
