After my acceptance letter, the tension in the waiting game intensified. Every day felt like a countdown to Sakura's results, especially her Todai application. Her future, the one laden with expectations, felt like it was about to be sealed, and with it, the reality of how different our paths might be.
Sakura remained outwardly composed, focusing on schoolwork and club activities, but I could see the strain. She was quieter than usual sometimes, lost in thought. The easy laughter came less often. The weight Akane-san had spoken of, the weight of her family's hopes and her brother's legacy, felt palpable.
We still studied together, but the focus often shifted from understanding the material to managing the stress of waiting. We'd sit in the library, surrounded by books, the silence heavy with unspoken anxiety.
One afternoon, I saw her near the school gate, talking to her mother. Mrs. Yamato's expression was serious, her posture straight and elegant. Sakura was listening attentively, nodding occasionally, her own posture mirroring her mother's composed seriousness. Even from a distance, I could sense the gravity of their conversation. It was likely about the impending results, about the expectations.
Mrs. Yamato glanced in my direction briefly as she said goodbye to Sakura, her gaze polite but distant. She didn't offer a smile. It was a stark reminder of the formality and the unspoken assessment that came with being part of Sakura's world, especially in the eyes of her family.
Later that day, Sakura messaged me.
Sakura: Had a talk with my mother after school today. About... things. Me: About the letters? Sakura: Yeah. And... everything. (Her reply was short, less cheerful than usual). Me: Is everything okay, Sakura? Did she say anything... ? Sakura: Just... reminders. About how important this is. How much they're hoping. How much... is riding on it. (Another short pause). Just the usual pressure, I guess. 😉
The familiar cheerful emoji felt out of place after the heavy message. It was her way of trying to lighten the mood, to show she was handling it, but it only highlighted how much she was trying to hide the true weight of it all.
Me: It sounds like more than just 'usual pressure.' Sakura: (Long pause). Sakura: It is, Hiroshi. Sometimes... it feels overwhelming. Like I'm carrying... everyone's hopes. And if I... if I don't... (The message trailed off).
My heart ached reading her words. She was letting me see the raw vulnerability beneath the facade, the fear of disappointing everyone, of not living up to the immense expectations.
Me: You're doing amazing, Sakura. No matter what happens with the letters. You've worked incredibly hard. That's what matters. Sakura: Thank you, Hiroshi-kun. ❤️ Just... needed to hear that.
Her reply, the simple heart emoji, conveyed a depth of feeling that words couldn't capture. She was carrying the weight of her world, and sometimes, just knowing I saw it and believed in her, not just her potential success, was a source of comfort.
The next day, the tension was even higher. Sakura was quieter than usual, her focus wavering. I stayed close to her between classes, offering a quiet presence, a steady hand to hold if she needed it.
During lunch, sitting with Kenji and Aiko, the conversation was light, but I could feel Sakura's underlying anxiety. Aiko seemed to sense it too, offering gentle smiles and steering the conversation towards less stressful topics.
As the end of the school day approached, the air in the hallways felt charged with anticipation. Students whispered about who had heard back from where, adding to the general anxiety.
Sakura and I walked towards the school gate together, the familiar path feeling different under the weight of the impending future. We didn't talk much, just walked side-by-side, hands linked.
As we reached the gate, a sudden, sharp voice called out.
"Sakura-san!"
It was Akane Sato. She was standing near the gate, her expression serious. Beside her was a tall, imposing figure I recognized with a jolt – Sakura's father, Mr. Yamato.
My heart plummeted. Seeing him at the school, especially with Akane-san looking so serious, could only mean one thing.
The waiting game was over.
Mr. Yamato's gaze met mine briefly as we approached, his expression unreadable. Then he looked at Sakura, his expression softening slightly, but still holding a gravity that signaled the importance of the moment.
Sakura stopped walking, her grip on my hand tightening. Her eyes were wide, her face pale.
"Father?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Mr. Yamato stepped forward. He held an envelope in his hand. An official-looking envelope, with the seal of a university.
He looked at Sakura, then at me, then back at Sakura. The silence in the busy school gate area seemed to stretch on forever.
He extended the envelope towards Sakura.
"It arrived today, Sakura," he said, his voice calm, but carrying immense weight. "Your letter. From Todai."
The future, the one we had been waiting for, dreading, and hoping for, was finally here. Delivered by her father, under the watchful eye of Akane Sato, at the school gate where our fake relationship had begun.
My heart pounded. What did it say? Acceptance? Rejection? What did it mean for Sakura? What did it mean for us?
All the fears, all the hopes, all the uncertainty of the past few months culminated in this single moment, represented by the envelope in Mr. Yamato's hand.
Sakura took the letter, her hand trembling slightly. Her gaze was fixed on the university seal, her face a mask of apprehension.
The next step in our unexpected love story, the one that would define the landscape of our future, was about to be revealed.