“A Lifetime”

The ride was a blur of frantic, fragmented thoughts. Fired. Scandal. Ren. My notebook. Neko. Her mind couldn't settle on a single disaster. She clutched her messenger bag—the one containing her life’s work like a lifeline. The raw, searing shame of being publicly ejected from her workplace was compounded by the terrifying realization that her safe life was completely over. The walls of her meticulously constructed double life had come crashing down in a single, devastating moment.

And someone had to have done it.

The taxi dropped her off in front of Saki’s modern, comfortable apartment building. Airi fumbled with the fare, her hands shaking, and stumbled into the lobby. She took the elevator up, the silence of the ride amplifying the frantic, accusatory monologue building in her mind.

Saki worked in media marketing. Saki knew everyone.

Saki was the only other person, besides Ren’s inner circle, who knew the depth of Airi’s connection to R.I. Publishing. Saki had been asking too many questions lately. The logic was flimsy, fueled by panic and exhaustion, but in Airi’s current state of shock, it was the only explanation that made any sense. Betrayal from an enemy was expected; betrayal from a friend was the only thing that could push her this far over the edge.

She reached Saki’s door and hammered the doorbell with a ferocity that belied her usual quiet demeanor. The door opened almost instantly. Saki stood there, framed in the warm, inviting light of her apartment

. She was wearing a soft, pastel-pink pajama set patterned with tiny white hearts, her hair tied up in a messy bun, and she looked thoroughly cozy and domestic. The sound of a movie—something with dramatic strings and swelling music—drifted from the living room. Saki had clearly been enjoying a peaceful, relaxing evening.

"Airi? What in the world? You look like you just saw a ghost," Saki said, her voice laced with immediate concern as she took in Airi's disheveled state, the fear in her eyes, and the wildness of her hair. "Come in, come in. You're freezing. Did you take the bus?"

Saki stepped back, gesturing to Airi inside. Airi didn't move. She stood rigid on the threshold, the warm air of Saki’s safe haven contrasting sharply with the cold terror she felt. She planted her feet firmly on the hall carpet, her eyes fixed accusingly on Saki.

"Don't," Airi choked out, her voice tight and unfamiliar. "Don't ask me to come in."

Saki frowned, her relaxed posture instantly dissolving into confusion and worry. "What's wrong? What happened? Did Sako-san see you were late again?"

"I was fired," Airi stated flatly. The words hung heavy in the air. "An hour ago. I was fired because of the scandal. Because I was kissing Ren in a park."

Saki gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "No! Oh, Airi, I saw the headlines, but I didn't know they named you! That's awful! Come on, let's sit down, let me get you some tea—"

"Stop acting like you care!" Airi burst out, the accumulated stress and paranoia finally erupting. Her voice was too loud, too desperate for the quiet hallway. "You knew! You knew I was working with him! You asked me questions all the time, you kept pushing for details about the contract and the company! And now this happens, and you work in media! You’re the only person who would have known how to link the two things!"

Saki’s eyes, wide with initial sympathy, narrowed dangerously. The pink pajamas suddenly seemed absurdly misplaced. The sudden, venomous accusation had visibly wounded her.

"What are you saying, Airi?" Saki asked, her voice dropping to a low, icy register that Airi had never heard her use. "Are you accusing me of selling you out? Of calling the press on my best friend?"

Airi’s heart pounded against her ribs. Now that the accusation was voiced, the flimsiness of her proof was chillingly obvious. She saw the raw, genuine shock and anger in Saki's face, a look that no amount of acting could convincingly fake. But the need to blame someone, anyone, was still overwhelming.

"You're the only one who works in the media. You asked about the launch party, you picked out my outfit—you knew I was going to be visible!" Airi’s voice was shaking, her conviction starting to crumble under Saki's unwavering gaze.

Saki took a slow, deliberate step back, pulling the door slightly closer to her. Her eyes were burning with hurt betrayal.

"You really think that of me," Saki stated, the words not a question but a statement of utter disbelief. "After everything? After covering for you with Sako-san for months? After talking you through every single emotional breakdown over Ren's moody behavior? You think I would jeopardize your life and your music career, all for a tacky headline and maybe a thousand yen from a gossip rag?"

Saki scoffed, shaking her head. "I work in digital marketing for corporate products, Airi. Not for weekly scandals. I was excited for you! I was trying to protect your secret by picking an outfit that didn't look like a corporate drone's! Do you even know me? Do you even know what friendship means?"

Airi finally saw the full scope of her catastrophic mistake. Saki wasn't just offended; she was devastated by the insinuation. She had lashed out at the one person who truly cared, the one anchor she still had outside of Ren’s frantic, secretive world.

"Saki, wait. I'm sorry," Airi whispered, taking a hesitant step forward. "I don't—I don't know what I'm saying. I'm just… I just lost my job. I’m scared, and I didn't know who to blame. I thought maybe... maybe it was a mistake…”

The weak apology hung uselessly in the air. Saki didn't accept it. Her expression remained wounded, hardening into justifiable anger.

"A mistake?" Saki repeated, her voice rising slightly. "You came here, pounding on my door, and immediately accused me of ruining your life and betraying a decade of friendship, without a shred of proof. You didn't come for comfort, Airi. You came for a scapegoat. And that tells me that you don't actually know me at all."

Saki's hand gripped the edge of the door. The sound of the movie inside faded as she focused entirely on Airi.

"I don't know who leaked the picture, but I know one thing," Saki said, her eyes flashing with a pain deeper than the embarrassment Airi felt. "You don't trust me. And I can't be friends with someone who looks at me and sees a traitor."

With a sudden, final motion, Saki yanked the apartment door toward her. It slammed shut with a sharp, sickening thud that echoed down the quiet hallway, cutting Airi off completely. The sound of the dramatic movie strings was instantly silenced, replaced by a profound, dead emptiness.

Airi was left standing alone in the dark, carpeted hallway. She stared at the closed door, the only thing separating her from the warm light and the sound of a normal, safe life. The realization of what she had done was a physical blow. She had been fired from her job, and in her irrational terror, she had just fired her only true friend.

She slid slowly down the wall, sinking onto the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest. The cold reality of her situation settled over her, heavy and absolute. She was unemployed, embroiled in a massive scandal, and now utterly, terrifyingly alone.

Everything all felt small and fragile compared to the massive, immediate consequence of her rashness. Airi buried her face in her hands, her shame overwhelming the fear. She had followed her heart, and it had led her straight into a life of beautiful, agonizing chaos.