Tohru_X

Sakura Suzuki has always prioritised her friendship with Mia Yoshino, even when it meant burying her own heart. In their second year of college, both girls fall for Haru Soma, but when Mia confesses her feelings, Sakura chooses loyalty over love, silently stepping aside to help Mia win his affection.

Years later, on Mia and Haru’s wedding day, the carefully constructed facade shatters. In a shocking turn of events, Haru kisses Sakura—the maid of honour—and confesses a long-hidden truth:

"It was always you, Sakura," he said softly, his voice rough. "I've always loved you. Not Mia. You."

Guilt and longing consume Sakura as she grapples with the revelation. That night, she makes a wish at 11:11—and wakes up nine years earlier, back in college, on the day she first met Haru.

Given a second chance, Sakura is determined to claim the love she sacrificed—but rewriting the past is far more complicated than she imagined. Her choices start to unravel everything she once knew. Friendships are tested, hearts are broken, and Sakura must confront the painful truth: Pursuing her own happiness could cost her everything she holds dear.

Will she find the love she's always dreamed of, or will her second chance destroy the very life she hoped to protect?

The Groom Chooses The Maid Of Honour

Sakura let out a ragged breath as she tied her hair into a high ponytail. Her fingers trembled as she worked, trying to make it look effortless, but it felt anything but. She was dressed in a one-piece black outfit—shorts paired with a belt cinched tightly around her waist. Her outfit was simple, yet she couldn't shake the feeling that she was dressing for something more. Just for tonight, she thought, though the more she tried to focus on the mixer, the more the unease crept in. She wasn't just getting ready for a night out; she was dressing with the hope of making an impression on someone she didn't even know yet. Someone from the group Mia had mentioned.

Her heart fluttered uneasily as she glanced at herself in the mirror. She wasn't sure what was worse—how she looked or how much she cared about it. This is just for a mixer. Don't overthink it. But it felt like she was dressing for something more. It wasn't even about impressing Mia or the guys who'd be there. It was the idea of meeting someone new—someone unfamiliar—someone whose opinions might matter more than she realised.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in," she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

Umeko Suzuki stepped inside, her short hair a soft blend of lighter brown and grey, framing her gently lined face. The delicate wrinkles around her warm brown eyes added a sense of wisdom and experience. Sakura, elegant like her mother, shared those same brown eyes, though her sharper features set them apart. Dressed in a lavender blouse, beige cardigan, and sage green skirt, Umeko exuded a quiet, graceful presence, with a softness that contrasted with her daughter's more defined appearance.

"Sakura," she began, her voice steady, though her eyes held a soft concern, "I know you're old enough to make your own decisions. But I want to remind you that if you're doing something you don't want to do for the benefit of others, it's never too late to back out."

Sakura's chest tightened at her mother's words. She felt them sinking into her, like stones weighing her down. Is that what I'm doing? Am I just pretending for everyone else's sake? But even as the question flickered in her mind, Sakura shook it off. It was too late for second thoughts.

Her mother kissed her forehead before leaving, leaving Sakura alone with her swirling thoughts. The night ahead was already unsettling, and the lingering pressure only added to her sense of unease.

Sakura grabbed her purse and put on a pair of black heeled boots. As she walked out of her room, her anxiety grew, but she didn't let it stop her. You're going to this mixer. It's just a night out. No big deal. But no matter how hard she tried to convince herself, she couldn't shake the feeling that tonight might be different. She was dressing like it was a date—for someone she doesn't even know yet.

Dressing Like It Was A Date