Chase Matthews had met Sakura Tanaka-Williams six months ago at a photography exhibition in downtown Seattle. Her black-and-white portraits of urban solitude had captured his attention, but it was her laughter--unexpected and melodic in the hushed gallery--that had made him approach her. Unlike the serious nature of her work, Sakura herself radiated a quiet joy, an artist's appreciation for life's small pleasures.
At thirty-two, Chase stood just under six feet tall with a lean build. His mixed heritage--Korean and Mexican from his mother, Northern European from his father--gave him striking features: high cheekbones, golden-brown skin, and eyes that shifted between green and hazel. He worked in cybersecurity, building digital walls by day while Sakura broke down emotional ones through her art.
Sakura, twenty-seven and a full head shorter at 5'5", moved with the confidence of someone comfortable in her skin. Her Japanese and African American heritage had blessed her with a beauty that drew subtle but lingering glances--full lips, deep brown eyes framed by thick lashes, and curls that fell past her shoulders. Unlike Chase's leaner frame, Sakura was built with generous curves that contrasted with his angles in ways that made them fit together perfectly.
Their relationship had surprised them both. Chase, fresh from a relationship that had cooled to polite indifference, hadn't expected to find someone who challenged him artistically and intellectually. Sakura, focused on building her photography career, hadn't been looking for a relationship at all. Yet somehow, they'd fallen into a rhythm that felt both exciting and comfortable.
Three months into living together in their two-bedroom Seattle apartment, Chase watched Sakura arrange wildflowers in a mason jar. She wore one of his old t-shirts and nothing else, the hem falling mid-thigh. Her body was a revelation to him--her soft curves and warm skin making him feel newly alive whenever they were together.
"You're staring," she said without looking up, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
"I'm admiring," Chase corrected, taking a sip of his coffee.
"What are you admiring exactly?" She glanced up, those deep brown eyes meeting his with a playful heat that still surprised him after months together.
He crossed the small kitchen in two steps, setting his mug down to stand behind her. His hands found her waist, feeling her warmth through the thin cotton. "Everything," he murmured, pressing his lips to the curve where her neck met her shoulder. "The way you make our apartment like something from a magazine. The way you smell in the morning. The way you look at the world through your camera lens--like you're seeing something no one else can see."
Sakura turned in his arms, looping her hands around his neck. "That's what I love about you, Chase Matthews. You see me."
"Hard not to," he teased, letting his eyes roam appreciatively over her body.
She laughed, that same unexpected sound that had drawn him to her at the gallery. "Not just my body, though I do appreciate the attention." She tapped his chest, right over his heart. "You see the work. You get why it matters to me."
It was true. Where previous boyfriends had indulged her photography as a cute hobby, Chase understood it was her way of processing the world. He'd spend hours discussing composition and lighting with her, even though his technical knowledge was limited. Sometimes he'd just sit quietly as she edited, watching her face as she lost herself in the work.
"Speaking of the work," she continued, "I need to finish editing that series for the group show next month. My mentor's coming by later to review the final selections."
Chase groaned dramatically. "Can't you play hooky for once? It's Saturday."
"Artists don't get weekends," she reminded him, but her smile softened the words. "Besides, you have that security patch thing to finish, don't you?"
"Security patch thing," he repeated, shaking his head. "The way you deliberately oversimplify technology is adorable."
"The way you pretend to be annoyed by it is even more adorable." She stretched up on her toes to kiss him quickly on the cheek. "Two hours. I promise. Then we can go for that walk around Green Lake you've been wanting to do."
"Deal," he said, watching as she gathered her equipment and settled at her desk by the window.
Later that evening, after their walk and a simple dinner of takeout ramen, they sat on opposite ends of the couch. Sakura was sketching idly in her notebook while Chase scrolled through security forums on his tablet. The companionable silence between them felt comfortable, but something had been on his mind all day.
He set his tablet down. "You're quiet," she observed, looking up from her sketch.
"Just thinking."
"About what?"
He hesitated. "You never talk about what you want."
Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean? I just told you exactly what I wanted about an hour ago. Ramen." The teasing smile returned to her lips.
"Not like that." He pushed a curl behind her ear. "I mean beyond the everyday. Dreams, fantasies, the things you're afraid to say out loud."
Sakura was quiet for a moment, studying his face. "You think I'm holding back?"
"Sometimes I feel like there's still part of you I haven't met yet," he said, his voice quiet in the stillness of their living room.
She bit her lower lip, a gesture he'd come to recognize as her thinking through something carefully. "Maybe there is," she admitted finally, a smile playing on her lips. "But isn't that the fun part? Always having something new to discover?"
Before he could press further, her phone buzzed on the table beside the couch. She reached for it, and he watched her expression shift as she read the message.
"Everything okay?"
Sakura set the phone down, turning to face him with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. "My sister's coming to visit."
"Aiyana? The world traveler?" Chase had seen her only in pictures--a striking woman with wild hair often streaked with copper or purple, athletic build, and a wide smile, always caught in motion. Half-Japanese, half-Black like Sakura, but where Sakura was soft curves and artistic sensuality, Aiyana was sharp angles and from the stories he had been told raw energy.
"Yes." Sakura's voice held something he couldn't quite identify. "She just broke up with someone. Needs a place to stay for a while."
"Here?" Chase glanced around their apartment.
"She'll sleep on the pull-out couch," Sakura explained. "It's not the most comfortable, but it's better than her other options I guess."
Chase caught her wrist gently. "Is this going to be, okay? You seem... less than excited."
Sakura hesitated. "Aiyana is... intense." She leaned down to kiss him briefly. "Just be prepared. She tends to take up all the oxygen in a room."
