ᴛᴜᴍʙʟɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ- ˢᵃⁿᵒ ᵐᵃⁿʲⁱʳᵒ

𝘉- ᵍʳᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵒˡᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍʳⁱᵉᶠ

A sᴋʏ ғᴜʟʟ ᴏғ sᴛᴀʀs ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀs sᴛᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ʜᴇʀ
~ Aᴛᴛɪᴄᴜs

Familiarizing with her new family, Y/n (now 56 years old) had long forgotten the sensation of love.

Even if she grew accustomed to getting a new family, she would frequently fail in seeking warmth in her husband's arms.

It was an unwritten ritual for them to hold each other before Chifuyu would leave for a battle. This singular action to disguise her emptiness and deluding herself into believing that she was a joyous pair fell flat.

They slept in the same bed, but faced away without a "good night". They ate their food in uncomfortable silence without thanking each other for the meal.

Her sunken eyes were often miscalculated as cheery by the ongoing locals. One could hear them murmuring under their breaths how beautiful and elegant she looked.

He wasn't in any better condition.

Sleepless nights passed by so excruciatingly slow pondering on the dullest things, such as how to bring Y/n to hold his hand more firmly or wishing she would be more comfortable around him.

He believed that if she would make the first move then he would gladly reciprocate. But, over time, neither of them fell according to his plans resulting in falling apart even more.

Irritation...

The irritation of waiting for what seemed like an eternity, as he hoped that one day she would seek his love as much as he craved for hers.

The tension of answering questions of their plans for children never went away. It started with her servants (who would whisper this stupidity in their ear), then his family and finally the nosy villagers.

Now, she had grown old with subtle wrinkles that do beautifully accentuated her eyes when she feigned a smile. Over the past decades, she saw before her eyes the young souls that once played hopscotch to be wedded off, to begin with, a journey she could never attain.

All the bakers in the kingdom knew her. Whether it was a flourishing business or just their starting mark, she never neglected the art of baking.

It required patience, it required skill, all the abilities Manjiro once had.

Well, Chifuyu didn't know about it. She deemed that he needn't know that one impactful piece of information.

She knew it was terrible of her, how wrong it was. And she knew her husband's slowly building love towards her.

But her heart couldn't falter off the young man, how nothing resembled Manjiro when it came to looks. His mature face had nothing that reminded her of the Baker, not even the hair.

Manjiro's hair was a pale shade of golden and long, his eyes were an abyss of black that glittered when he laid eyes on her, his rough hands that always had a smudge of flour, his creativity in making birthday cakes for her. It was an endless list of comparisons; she knew was outrageous.

They were their own person, she kept telling herself but she failed in it too.

"Chifuyu..." She muttered for the 56-year-old man who cleaned his swords with a dazzling smile as he handled them as trophies from war.

As soon as she mumbled his name, he instantly whirled his head towards her. Green eyes that reminded her of the sea rather than the furnace-brightened bakery.

"It's been so long. So long from my home, so long since I felt his love... I still am in love with him," All she could remember at that moment was her blurry vision as she confessed.

Clank!

The noise of the fallen sword reverberated in the hollow room.

She felt him sit beside her, a small dip in the fluffy bed.

"Had you known... That... I had always been infatuated with you?"