Archive of Our Own

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If I should find a twinkling star
One half so wondrous as you are
That star would be like my heart and me
Dedicated to you

The rhythms of making beef bourguignon are simple enough though they require a deftness and meticulousness to elevate the dish from good to great. And though you do not have the exact ingredients to truly heighten the dish into the realm of exceptional, you give it your all as you dice the vegetables and sear the meats, cycling through the words of an older French woman at each step, hoping the final product would meet your wife’s standards.

Back when you were first learning the dish, Claudine had been so amused as she watched her maternal grandmother teach you the family recipe during your honeymoon in northern France at her family’s villa. You remember how Claudine’s laughter would ring out each time her grandmother chided you for flubbing a step, so used was she in witnessing praise being directed at you in a classroom setting. Her grandmother would come to your defense, however, and say that at least you were trying to learn the dish, which would devolve into a familiar banter between the two about domesticity and a woman’s role within that realm.

You had watched them from the sidelines at first, your French intermediate at best, but soon joined once you felt comfortable doing so. When Claudine’s grandmother had laughed at one of your jokes about Claudine’s inability to put away dishes back in your apartment in Tokyo, your eyes darted to Claudine to gauge her reaction. She wasn’t irritated, not even a hint of a blush that usually accompanied any sort of embarrassment. Instead, she had looked at you as if you were her most precious gift, like fire first discovered, miraculous and wholly desired. She had never given you this exact look nor had it been replicated since, but in the years since, whenever you felt any sort of insecurity about your relationship, you would pull out the memory and find the reassurance you needed that everything would be okay.  

The recipe had been difficult to master, especially since Claudine’s grandmother accepted nothing less than perfection much like her granddaughter, but you manage to meet her standards you think, when she tastes your dish on the final week of your stay. She pats your cheek and calls you ma petite fille for the first time. You don’t cry, but your voice is watery when you tell her merci. She playfully chuffs before bringing you into a hug, telling you the Japanese are too reserved, no doubt referencing Claudine’s father in the jab as well. You do not respond as you instead focus on the warmth of the hug, but you hear Claudine’s “that’s what I always say” from behind you, nonetheless.

Claudine, though, had higher standards still, telling you that while your dish was indeed delicious it would not surpass her grandmother’s.

You had always loved Claudine’s honesty, and surprisingly, the comment does not sting as you had expected it might, especially as you watch Claudine take another spoonful from the pot. Instead, you had laughed, kissed Claudine’s cheek, and told her, “It would not be the first time I’ve come in second to someone in your bloodline.”

You couldn’t compete with nostalgia, with the cementation of an internal narrative becoming fact, but you wanted to get close enough. When you had told Claudine that you would continue to try to surpass her grandmother’s beef bourguignon regardless, she had rolled her eyes, slapped your shoulders, and muttered méchante va with a smile that disarmed any annoyance she was trying to project.

She had asked you back then why you were so keen on learning the dish, and you had told her that you knew she loved the stew, and since the two of you would be spending two months in France, you had more than enough time to pick up a new skill set. She had accepted this, and it was a part of the truth, yes, but what propelled you most was the memory of her telling you back at Seisho that the one thing she missed most from France was her grandmother’s beef bourguignon. Now that the two of you were married, you wanted to provide at least a mimicry of the dish since the two of you had agreed on living in Japan for the foreseeable future.

It had been a series of lengthy discussions throughout your engagement - settling on Japan - but the stage remained a fundamental element for the two of you. You knew she loved the French stage more than anything. How she was able to carve a blazing career outside of her need to compete with you, outside of forced comparisons against you where she tended to receive silver.

But.

You could never shine like her on the French stage as she could on the Japanese stage. Your French wasn’t as polished, you weren’t as familiar with the customs, and while you would work hard to reach those heights if needed for your career, you knew you would yearn to return to Japan through it all, that each show you did, each performance you gave would be a hollow ring to what you could have achieved in your homeland.

France as a place to visit, to have a temporary residency in, you could accept. Your priority was still conquering the world’s stage, and France had not been abstained from that objective, but to have France be your homebase? To undo all the roots you had set and have them grow in unfamiliar soil, even if that soil was lovingly toiled by the woman most responsible for your happiness and growth…you would come to resent it and you tell Claudine as much.

Claudine had listened calmly to all of this, aired her own qualms of always having to be the one that made the leap, of always being the one whose back was forced against an impossible corner. How she did not always want to be relegated into choosing between breaking two hearts or one.

Round and round the two of you went, and as the conversations barreled towards a conclusion you feared would end in parting, you cried into her lap, completely at her mercy and confessed, “I won’t be the same woman you love if we go to France.”

You remember the stillness of those seconds after, your hands gripping the fabric of her pants, before you felt her hand begin to card your hair, and you cried harder still. You remember her silence, the fear clutching your chest as the seconds ticked until you heard a breathy, “we’ll stay in Japan.”

When you looked up at her, you saw a tear streaming down her face as she brought up her hand to wipe the tears off yours, a sad though loving smile on her face.

She had agreed on Japan, though with the concession that if an opportunity arose for her in France you would move with her for the duration of it. Not every time of course, the two of you were well familiar with long distance by this point, but at least once.

“I don’t always want to choose between you and France.”

You had understood, and you had agreed because you were in your twenties. You felt invincible as your career soared to higher stages still, and you would do almost anything to keep Claudine by your side. But now, you are in your thirties, and though you were not even close to the end of your career, you could see the dawning in the distance and all the factors you had once considered have changed so fundamentally. The perfect proof of which was your adorable four-year old daughter, Minako, drawing at the kitchen table, keeping you company as you cooked. The notion that you would most likely be giving her a sibling soon never far from your thoughts.

But you had agreed, and when Claudine was offered an incredible one-year residency at her former troupe, Théâtre de Flamme, playing the lead of Oscar in the first ever Rose of Versailles production in France, she told you with such bright eyes that she wanted to take the role and that she wanted you and Minako to come with her. The role would be the perfect culmination of her career up to that point, and you knew it would catapult her into the territory of the greats. And though it would mean pulling out of the audition process for the next season and figuring out the logistical nightmare of moving to a different country, pausing your career or the version of it you had imagined (unfathomable years ago), you kiss her lips, tell her that you were unbelievably proud of her and that you’ll only agree if she remembers that you’ll always be her one true Andre.

She had laughed before she cried into the crook of your neck, telling you she had been scared to tell you, and while you had your reservations and know that you don’t know fully the extent of what you are conceding in that moment, you could give her this. You wanted to give her this. After all the sacrifices she had made for you and your family, the amount of time she spent away from the stage to have Minako, she deserved to return to the French stage in any fashion she wanted, and you would be there to support her.  

As long as you all came back to Japan when it was all over.

“Okaasan, when is maman coming home?”

You snap away from your thoughts as you peer over your shoulder to see Minako looking at you, the spitting image of Claudine, though with blue eyes instead of a deep magenta. You turn the stove to a simmer before you walk over to Minako.

“In the evening. She’s working hard for us for her last week of shows.”

Minako accepts this as she goes back to work on her drawing. You watch her, toying with the red bow holding her hair in place. You remember how irritated Claudine had been when Minako had selected the ribbon over the headband back when Minako was still a baby during Claudine’s version of Zhuazhou. You had laughed and told her it didn’t mean anything, especially as she accused you of cheating somehow, but even after all those years Minako still preferred to wear the bow. And though you hadn’t worn a bow in years as part of your everyday ensemble, joy bubbled within you each time you saw Minako wear hers, a silly reminder that even though Minako did not have your DNA, she was still fundamentally yours.

You lean in closer to inspect Minako’s artwork, notice swirls of greens and yellows and oranges consuming the page and the three figures towering in an undulating fashion looking down at the swirls. When she notices your interest, Minako explains without prompt.

“It’s the three of us from my dream. See this is the flower.” Her little finger pointing to the swirls; her explanation creating a form in the perceived formlessness. Ah, yes, you could see the flower now.   

You smile, recalling how Minako had regaled you and Claudine over breakfast about her nighttime musings, par course for the Saijou-Tendou household. You kiss the top of her head and tell her it’s one of the best drawings of hers yet. She preens under the attention, and you remind yourself to praise her outside of performative abilities as well.

There are so many chores that need to be done as you wait for the stew to finish cooking, but instead, you watch Minako finish up the last touches of her drawing as she babbles away at her process. You sit and you remark when necessary, forever fascinated with this little person you and Claudine were raising.

You’re waiting, you realize, but you don’t know for what. Soon after, Minako finishes and leaves the kitchen for some other flight of fancy, and you stay rooted in your spot, wondering when exactly you had become someone who waits, as the smell of the bourguignon fills the room.

In the same phone call that Kaoruko informed you of her engagement to Futaba she also asks you to be her maid of honor. The position would only require sitting in the front row during the ceremony and ensuring she did not implode from stress during the weekend, Kaoruko tells you matter of fact. The ceremony would be a small affair, and knowing how some of her more traditional relatives looked down on Kaoruko’s perceived relationship with a commoner (and a woman at that), you were not surprised by the statement. When you comment on the subduedness, Kaoruko huffs over the receiver and says that she wanted the ceremony to be intimate, and that the reception would be where the grandiose festivities would lay.

“We only want the most important people up there with us, Maya-han, and that includes you.”

You are touched by the comment and accept the position with ease, telling her it would be an honor.

After Seisho, you did not expect to be as close to Kaoruko as you were, despite the fact that she would call you at least once a week when you were in the New National Theater with Futaba. She would say that it was to see how you were fairing no longer being the top student of an organization, but you knew better, and what had once been nosiness on Kaoruko’s end to ensure that Futaba wasn’t keeping anything from her, became a nice ritual between you two where she became as up to date on your life as Futaba and Mahiru were.

You knew the two of you would be lifelong friends when you had visited her in Kyoto to improve your classical Japanese dancing skills for an upcoming role, and when she had asked you why you had not approached Tamao with the request since she was in the same production as you, you had responded with, “I want to work with the best.” It was the only time you thought Kaoruko might kiss you; she was so happy.

It was Kaoruko who had also informed you about Claudine being Futaba’s maid of honor.

While you and Claudine had kept in touch through the years since graduating from Seisho, it was not to the extent either of you would have wanted. Both of you were busy with your careers and getting busier still, and as your lives diverged with her dominating the French theater stage with her diligence and flair and with you carving out a legacy for yourself outside of your parents’ reputations on the Japanese stage, what you assumed would be almost daily updates turned into the occasional phone call, the occasional text exchange.

Even as you drifted apart, the distance did not lessen what she meant to you as a friend and as a rival. But you were living your own life now, one she was only on the margins of when once she had been so intertwined that you thought you would implode as a performer, as a person if you two were ever to separate. You did have her name on google alerts just in case she failed to mention to you one of her successes during those blue moon catch ups and would text her the appropriate congratulations, and she would do the same for you without fail. Every time you heard her name or thought of her as you lived your life in Tokyo, a smile would appear on your face without prompt, the thought of “ah, I should reach out to Saijou-san '' following soon after.

However, when you see Claudine stroll into the rehearsal dinner that evening, her hair cut to her shoulders, impeccably dressed in a form fitting suit of dark blue, older than you remember, (but then again, so are you), your interest piques in a way it had not since your days at Seisho. The two of you had spoken extensively prior to the wedding, making all the necessary arrangements to celebrate your two friends through the various stages of their engagement despite their feeble protests, but Claudine had not been able to attend those celebrations due to her work commitments. Being in her proximity again felt almost…electrifying.

As you watch her greet Futaba and Kaoruko, you wonder when you had last seen her in person. A year ago? Two? Regardless, you are becoming increasingly aware that this feels different. That this feels like when you had first watched her perform as Arrie all those years ago, but this time, she returns your gaze from where she stands, her radiance almost overwhelming.

When Claudine sees you, she smiles warmly as she walks over to you, and though you expect some haughty remark, she engulfs you in a hug without prompt, which you stiffen for only a second before you return it in earnest. She still smells the same, like orange groves on a summer’s day, and before you could submit to the desire within you to squeeze her tight, you pull away first.

The two of you proceed to exchange words about her travels to Japan and about last-minute wedding preparations, Kaoruko’s eagle eyed meticulousness, Futaba’s orderly management, and it feels like no time had passed, as if the two of you were merely taking a break between dance numbers in the Seisho practice room.

It only lasts a handful of minutes before Kaoruko interrupts and whisks you away to help her adjust her dress. Though before you are forced back to your maid of honor role, you make a promise to Claudine that the two of you would catch up later and her grin when she accepts jolts through you like lighting.  

The rehearsal dinner goes smoothly, everyone sharing remarks about the happy couple with lots of laughter and love filling the rehearsal space. You give a small speech, having prepared remarks beforehand, about how you believed Kaoruko and Futaba embodied the notion of love being patient and kind and how you wished them well as they tackled this next stage in life. Claudine shares remarks as well, weaving a heartfelt and charming congratulations to the happy couple interspersed with amusing anecdotes from your younger days. When Claudine sits down, she whispers to you, “mine was better,” giving you a teasing look that you were easily too smitten by. Though you only allow her a moment of satisfaction before you remark that the volume of applause she received in comparison to yours did not warrant that assessment, and just like that, the two of you begin to spend the rest of dinner bantering with ease.

The rehearsal dinner ends an hour later, and everyone heads back to the cottages Kaoruko and Futaba had rented on the venue’s property for those attending the ceremony. The maids of honor have their own special accommodations, and as everyone else makes plans to grab a nightcap or go to bed, you and Claudine retreat to the screen porch of your cottage, overlooking the lake.

The two of you converse about work and about life, all the details that distance had obscured until now.  

“So, no date for Tendou Maya?” Claudine inquires, during a lull. Her arm perched on the other side of the couch you were sitting on. She still wore her suit but had undone some of the buttons on her button-up shirt, looking absolutely ravishing, and you allow the thought to infiltrate your mind for a second before you shake it away.

You hum, tilt your head as you regard her, mirroring her position.

“I had been thinking the same thing about you.”

Her brows raise for a fraction of second, but she holds your gaze, a tension crackling between you before your faces begin to crumple at the same time as both of you laugh out, “the stage!” at the exact same time.

It was so easy speaking to Claudine as the two of you dissected the difficulties of finding an understanding partner while having such an intense career, leading to discussions of what each of you wanted in a partner, what each of you would need. It aligns so perfectly that you have to stop yourself on more than one occasion from blurting out why the two of you were trying to fight it, that it would make sense for the two of you to start dating each other.

But the thing is, it did not make sense, regardless of the romanticism of the weekend making you want to believe differently, making you believe you could have something like what Kaoruko and Futaba had. That sort of commitment required sacrifices that you thought yourself too selfish to make, and from what Claudine told you, she was flourishing in France and had no intention of leaving anytime soon. You were never one to long for things, you went out and you got it, and you could not make the move to France. Even for her.

And a part of you could not parse out whether you really wanted her or if it was just a habit to cast her opposite you in thoughts of the future just like you did for plays at Seisho.

Though when you wake up with her head on your shoulder, the morning sun breaking over the lake, casting a golden pink glow on her skin, you realize that you wanted another morning like this, wanted to have her near you for as long as you could, for as long as she allowed it. And instead of worrying about the complications, you rest your head back on top of hers, and enjoy the last few minutes of sleep before your alarm rings and the two of you have to begin your day.

The ceremony is a lovely affair with nary a dry eye in sight, including yours.

You thought you would be fine, but with all these unprocessed emotions swirling within you this weekend and witnessing through the years what they had managed to cultivate for themselves despite the distance and familial obligations, you feel your eyes begin to sting. When you see them recite their commitments to each other in gorgeous kimonos you begin to chastise yourself to stop the tears from ruining your makeup, but you stop when Claudine hands you a handkerchief as she squeezes your hand. You dab at your eyes and manage to make it through the rest of the ceremony.

You manage to make it through the reception as well, and Kaoruko was right to say that’s where the festivities lay. You see everyone from your days at Seisho and colleagues from New National Theater, some of Kaoruko’s students you had met when visiting Kyoto, and even though it feels like a disorienting mixture of your different stages of life, Claudine is your anchor throughout, never straying too far. Or perhaps, it’s you that doesn’t stray far.

When one of the songs the 99^th class would rehearse to comes through the speakers, your eyes search for Claudine’s at the same time her eyes search for you, and you walk over to her, offer your hand.

“For old time’s sake.”

“You say that as if we weren’t in the business of making new memories,” she says with an eye roll as she takes your hand. The two of you head to the dance floor as the other Seisho dance partners do as well, with Futaba and Kaoruko taking center stage, and the two of you dance together for the first time in years.

You were never one for floweriness, never one to appreciate poetry as much as you should, but you think, as Claudine’s hands find their usual places on your body and as the two of you glide as if you had been rehearsing the dance for years, that you could imagine a future with Claudine, the person and not your former dance partner.

As the party winds down and the newly married couple head out to their accommodations for the evening, you and Claudine find yourselves reminiscing by the lakeside, tipsily recapping the day’s events when Claudine asks you if you had ever imagined the two of you together back during your days at Seisho.

You look at her with surprise, take in her serious expression before confessing, “yes, I did.”

Her lips quirk for a second before she bites her lower lip. When she releases it, she whispers.

“And now?”

There are so many factors rattling inside your brain. Your newfound desire to settle in a way that felt counterproductive to your goals, the terrifying nature of wanting to concede to that desire regardless. You loved the stage, loved embodying someone else for the audiences’ enchantment, but you wanted someone there when the applause stopped, someone to share the stage with. But you had not even come close to accomplishing everything you wanted in your career, and despite how the weekend feels like an orchestrated attack on your defenses, you still had some resolve, though the woman next to you tremored them with her presence alone.

Her life was still very much in France and yours was here, but when you think of someone you could fit your life with, someone you would be willing to change aspects of your life for, she’s the only one that comes to mind. She’s the only one who could come to mind.

“I’m thinking it,” she confides at your continued silence. Her voice like a battering ram to your walls.

“Claudine…”

“Just think about it with me too.” She puts on a brave smile as she bumps into your shoulder. She always had a habit of putting her heart on her sleeve and you could see it clearly now, chirping like a baby bird, and what little resolve you have crumbles at her valor.  

You nod your head, bump her shoulder right back. “Okay, I’ll think about it too.”

Her shoulders relax, a smile on her lips as she turns her focus to the lake, the way the lights reflect on it like your own contained galaxy. You turn your gaze to the lake as well, though your focus is entirely on Claudine. The warmness she radiates, the stillness of her frame. You want her, and that has always been the truth of you in one way or another, and now, with reality piercing through the safety of fantasy, the temptation feels too great.

“I don’t know how much I can give you,” you finally say. “Do you know how much you can give me?”

You see her shake her head before you turn to face her, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on her skin.

“I don’t, Maya, but I’m willing to try and see where this could go.”

“Even if it’s just one night?”

“It’s better than not knowing.”

She brings her hand up, tentatively begins to play with your hair as she searches your face. In so many ways, she was still the girl who was your dance partner back in Seisho, who competed against you to be the top of the class, but she was different too. In ways you weren’t familiar with but were desperately wanting to be acquainted with.

You nuzzle against her touch, warm and soft. Claudine always felt so inevitable to you, like cherry blossoms in spring, and you could foresee the tickets and the flights and the vacations and the constant arranging of schedules, all the annoyances that would come from progressing with this, but this was Claudine. Lovely and stubborn Claudine.  

“Then I am willing to try as well.”

Claudine’s face blooms into a smile, and if you were being reckless with this, you could chalk it up to the hubris of youth later. For now, all you knew was that you had no desire to be a heartbreaker.

Claudine removes her hand from your face and offers you her pinky instead.

“Promise?”

You laugh at the gesture, but you are sincere when you curl your own pinky around hers, squeezing tight.

“I promise.”

Claudine smiles before she tugs you closer, your fronts pressed against each other. She glances at your lips before meeting your eyes, and you give her the okay. As she leans up, you lean down, and somewhere in the middle your lips meet, and the sensation pales in comparison to every childhood fantasy you had imagined of this moment because, in the end, this was real.

The warmth of her skin underneath your fingertips was real, the sounds she made at your ministrations was real, the softness of her lips, the hint of wine and cake on her tongue, the way she gripped your shoulders as if she never wanted to let you go. That, that was real.

Claudine pulls away first, resting her forehead against yours as the two of you share a disbelieving laugh. Giddiness ricochets within you, and you feel invincible and terrified as if your body was trying to accommodate an entirely new universe within its frame, and the only thing you are sure of in all of this, is that the woman before you wants you back.

Claudine steps away from you and gives you a coy look before she leads you back to the cottage and back to her room, your pinkies intertwined the entire duration.  

Claudine calls to tell you that she would be late coming home and that you should go ahead and have dinner without her. Her co-star had broken her foot a few days ago, and while the understudy was doing an impressive job so far of stepping in, there were still some kinks needing to be worked out. It had been the same refrain the last three days. You told her there was no need to apologize, you more than anyone understood the demands of the stage, but it endeared you to know that she still tried to make it home on time regardless.

Your own production had ended over a week ago, and though you were still in the process of unwinding from the rigorous performance schedule, you were now in charge of maintaining the day-to-day upkeep of the household. Usually, you would also be preparing for the next audition cycle, filtering through your emails to find any announcements that caught your interest, but with France on the horizon, your time had been usurped by creating to-do lists instead.

Even though the stint would only be for a year, you were not sure exactly what would be needed for such a long trip, especially if you ended up deciding to get your IVF treatments done there and got pregnant. If that were to happen, there was a chance the stay in France could be longer, but you try not to willingly jump into that rabbit hole and instead focus on what you could control.

You focus on your tasks for the day and then have dinner with Minako. She praises your stew even though half of it seems to have gotten on her face, still stumbling over her pronunciation of bourguignon much to your amusement. You accept the praise, though a part of you worries she’ll like the ones in France better. She looked more French than Japanese with her blonde hair and blue eyes. Claudine would sometimes call Minako ma petite française, her little French girl. You don’t know what you would do if Minako were to fall in love with France and never want to return.

The thought saddens you, so you push it out of your mind when you get Minako ready for bed. As you are reading Minako a bedtime story, the front door opens and an “I’m home!” rings out through the house, and all the work you’ve put into lulling Minako to sleep is dashed when she hops out of bed to run and greet her maman. You should reprimand her, which one exactly you aren’t sure, but you don’t have the heart to as you follow seconds after.

You find Claudine kneeling at eye level with Minako, her left arm shielding something behind her back that you can’t make out. Claudine offers you a smile when she sees you enter before returning her attention back to Minako. You could tell she was tired, but of course, Claudine would work through that for a good performance.

“Have you been a good girl for Okaasan?”

At Minako’s exuberant nod, Claudine chuckles before producing a small bouquet of marigolds to the toddler, and your heart melts as you recall Minako’s breakfast musings.

“I know in your dream I gave you a flower because I love you so much. But in real life, I got you a bouquet because I love you even more than that.”

Minako squeals in delight as she wraps her arms around Claudine’s neck, which Claudine happily returns. When they part, Claudine offers the bouquet to Minako, who snatches it immediately, telling Claudine, “I love you maman.”

You find yourself tearing up the display, an overwhelming love for your family feeling too small for your chest to contain.  

But when Minako turns to you and asks you if you have a vase to put the flowers in, you gather your bearings and tell her there should be a plastic one near the entrance to the backyard. You and Claudine had had grand hopes of cultivating the backyard into a lush garden, but with work and other responsibilities, that desire fell by the wayside, and those vases and pots were the remnants of that fall.

Before Minako goes to retrieve the item, she stops and pulls out a flower from her bouquet and hands it to you.

“I love you too Okaasan,” she tells you sweetly before darting away on her mission.

You caress the marigold in your hand, finding your daughter too precious for words. Claudine wraps her arm around your waist and kisses your cheek as she properly greets you hello.

“You are very sweet to our daughter,” you tell her, kissing her deeply. Despite her fatigue, she returns the vigor, relaxing under your touch.

“She deserves it,” she says as she slumps against you. “Hopefully, it’ll make up for some of the missed dinners and bedtimes.”

When the two of you had decided on children, you knew it would make your already busy, complicated lives even more busy and even more complicated. The amount of planning and scheduling and finding consistent childcare was arduous enough, but regardless of how busy the two of you would get during the thick of the performance season, one of you would always manage to be there for bedtime, at least through the phone. Though that never fully absolved the guilt of not always being there every single night to send Minako off to sleep.

“You’re here now.” You kiss the top of Claudine’s head, which she hums in acknowledgement. “How was rehearsal?”

Claudine looks at you, her eyes bright as if a spark of energy had just revitalized her.

“Hard, but I do find myself relishing in the challenge.”

Always a stage-crazy through and through, you think fondly. Though, when you see a glint in her eye, you beat her to the punch.

“I believe within that comment resides a barb about your marrying me.”

She scoffs as she playfully swats your shoulder.

“It doesn’t work if you take the tease away from me.”

“Apologies for impeding on your avenues of levity.”

The two of you enjoy a comfortable silence until you hear Minako call out to you from the kitchen asking which vase to use. Apparently, your usually decisive child needed a second opinion.

Claudine makes moves to help her, but you stop Claudine, tell her that she should unwind instead while you handle the situation.

“I’ll take you up on that,” she says with a gentle squeeze to your forearm before pulling away and heading to your bedroom. You watch her for a few moments before you follow the sound of your daughter clamoring in the kitchen, the marigold twirling in your hand.

It was a truth universally acknowledged that Paris was one of the premier cities in the world for art, and though you could appreciate the historical lineage of the city’s influence on artists of all fashions, you had not cared to explore that side of the city during any of your trips to visit Claudine in France. Less so when you had a very nude Claudine nestled against you, but Claudine had declared that the two of you could not spend your entire visit in her bed even though you tried to convince her otherwise, much to her pleasured chagrin.

When you do make it out of bed, Claudine convinces you to go to an art exhibit of unsung French painters at a museum along the Seine, only after telling you of a café known for their Baumkuchen close to the museum. Your eagerness when she offered to treat you elicited an adorable “méchante va” from the blonde and a playful tap on the nose.  

The collection was expansive, stretching across two exhibit halls of the Musee d’Orsay. The two of you ebb and flow as you explore the exhibits, seeing some of the artwork together, seeing them apart. It felt languid, with no set agenda in mind besides bearing witness to the artistic efforts of those from the past.

You don’t recall if the two of you had ever been to a museum together before, even back during your high school days, but you like this, the intimacy of it. Having her by your sides for moments, going in search of her in others. The way her eyes lit up each time she found you, either to make a remark about one of the artworks or to find a way to justify touching you again, a fixing of your collar, a straightening of your bangs. Art was never your strong suit back at Seisho. However, you find a new appreciation for it, or at least, you appreciate how the artwork provided a colorful background for your forever focal point of Saijou Claudine.

As you near the end of the first exhibit hall, you lose track of Claudine but find her easily enough as she stares at a painting near the exit. You wonder if she is waiting for you, but when you come near her, you notice a tear rolling down her cheek. Concern bubbles within you as you lengthen your pace, and when you reach her, you ask her what’s the matter.

She juts her head to the painting of Orpheus and Eurydice before you. Eurydice falling off the rocks edge back to the underworld as Orpheus can only watch, the lovers suspended as they wave their final goodbye with outfits of blue and white blending into the ocean and sky. Somber, though more bittersweet than some of the other paintings you have seen of them that depicted Orpheus’ grief after their separation.

“For a long time, this painting was credited to a famous French painter, though it was recently discovered that it was his daughter, Marianne, who painted it. Some historians have claimed she was queer, though it’s just speculation. I’ve always wondered what transpired between her and her lover to have inspired this.”

A separation, you think, but don’t say out loud. Instead, you reach for Claudine’s hand, intertwine your fingers.

“That could have been us,” she continues, her lips tight, her voice watery too.

If you two had been born in a different time, with different familial circumstances and obligations, the unspoken implication.

“Maybe it was us in another life, and we have found our way back to each other in this one.”

Her face crumbles at that, as she brings her hand up to cover her mouth, but she stifles her emotions down. When she whips her head to finally look at you, her eyes are red rimmed, blazing hot.

“But I always have to say goodbye to you, and I don’t want to do that anymore.”

You notice an influx of people heading your way so you escort Claudine to a quiet corner of the exhibit and try to muster up your most encouraging smile as you tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I know these last two years have been difficult, but I’ll always come back to you like I hope you’ll always come back to me. That’s how we work, like two magnets that can’t be separated by distance alone. We’re too stubborn for that.”

A ghost of a smile appears on her lips, and the fire within her mollifies a bit before she searches your eyes.

“How are you so sure?”

“I’m not, but if love was based on rationality, you and I wouldn’t exist, none of this would,” you gesture to the patrons and the artwork, the whole structure of the museum itself. “And I love you and that makes me brave enough to believe that we can make this work.”

When did you become this person, you wonder as you await Claudine’s response. So, lovestruck and smitten and believing in things you had once regulated to the whims of fantasies and fables, things that had narrative justification but no real life implications. Claudine was the answer you know, but the discrepancy of the you back then and the you now had yet to resolve itself enough into a palatable identity.

Claudine takes in your words but doesn’t meet your eyes, and you feel your heart start to race.

“I love you too but…”

She doesn’t offer anything more, so you squeeze her hand, make your voice soft.

“What is it, Claudine?”

You see her swallow once before she steels her shoulders and returns your gaze. You’ll remember the remorse in her eyes for years to come.

“I was offered a lead part for a production in Tokyo, but I don’t want to take it.”

The air vanishes from your lungs, your heart breaking as you let go of her hand and take a step back. Now it’s your turn to not meet her eyes, your hand clenching and unclenching at your side.  

It made sense, the sparks of distance you saw from her whenever she didn’t remember herself. How you had chalked it up to fatigue since she had just finished a show right before you came into town, but you had wanted to have a good visit, so you were willing to look past it.

Her coming to Japan had been something the two of you had been discussing ever since the night of Futaba and Kaoruko’s wedding, striving for it seriously within the last few months. You know there are so many reasons for her not to want to take the offer, but the only thing you want to ask her is why the summation of a part in Japan and living together for a few months was not worth more than whatever it was that kept her in France. But it was an unfair question to ask because she wouldn’t ask that of you if the positions were reversed, and your career was the one on the line. And perhaps, it was guilt that caused you to give her this hypothetical grace since the positions would never be reversed, at least not in the exact same way.

Instead, you take a deep breath, force the muscles within your body to relax as you turn to face her, and though you know this is a precarious conversation, you cannot help but tell her the truest thing you can.

“Then don’t take the part.”

 Her eyes widen, frighten and unsure.

“Maya…”

You take a step closer, questioning if you are trying to be the bigger person here or if you were just willing to swallow the hurt.

“If it’s not the right part for you or you were offered a better part here, then please don’t take the one in Japan. You know what’s best for you and your career. Would I like for you to come work in Japan, to live with me, yes of course. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to settle just for me.”

You refrain from adding the caveat of discussing the situation if it was the notion of physically melding your lives together that kept her rooted in France instead. Of course, you would have the needed discussion if she were to bring it up, but you did not have enough courage to be the one to bring it up yourself.

A litany of expressions cycle through her face as she crosses her arms. Her shoulders tense as she searches for her response, vacillating between looking at you and looking anywhere else. You’ve always known this could be a potential fuse between the two of you, how in your desire to be accommodating to her situation you sometimes forced her to be the villain, but you never wanted to restrict her, make her feel beholden to your desires.

When her eyes snap to yours, you expect her to unleash her frustration in a string of French epithets. Instead, she sighs as all the fight leaves her body, and she rests her head on your collarbone. You tentatively wrap your arms around her waist, and she burrows into you. Though you know nothing has been settled, you think it’s a step in the right direction.

“We can’t keep doing this you know,” she tells you.

This, the back and forth, the longing and the misplaced anger, the sadness. Missed phones and the connected ones too, the simmering bitterness of circumstance. But there’s also laughter and I love yous so you can’t completely hate this. So much that this takes up in your lives. Would things be easier if you were in the same country? Perhaps, but one of you will have to concede, and you could not be your best self in France. You think Claudine can be her best self in Japan, but perhaps, not the way she had always envisioned.

“I know, I know,” you tell her as you gently tuck your finger underneath her chin and lift her head up until she is looking at you, desperate though loving. You wipe her tears with your thumbs, and she softens in your palms with a trust that rattles you each time you are cognizant of it.

The two of you stroll through the rest of the museum side by side, and when Claudine stops in front of a painting of a beautiful woman holding the hand of a child and a book in another, you stop too.

“The historians speculate that it was her.”

“Who?”

“The woman Marianne had loved.”

You stare at the painting before reading the museum label about the piece. How Heloise, a woman of the French gentry, moved to Italy to marry a nobleman. If what the historians said was true, you wonder what she thought of what became of her life, if she had been forced into this marriage or had simply accepted the proposal, if she wanted the child standing next to her, if she regretted leaving behind Marianne, if they ever saw each other again.

But Heloise was back in France now, you think, with her lover’s works just a few corridors down. Maybe life would be kind and one day they could be positioned next to each other once again.

After the museum, the two of you go to the café, order coffee and Baumkuchen to go and enjoy them on the stone steps overlooking the Seine, watching tourist boats sail past you with ease.

The two of you are discussing the pieces of art you had seen, passing the cake back and forth, when it clicks.

“Do you think of yourself as the painter or the lover?”

Claudine gives you a sad smile when she tells you, “I don’t know if I’m still auditioning or waiting for the cast list.”

Days later, when she accompanies you to the airport, she kisses you goodbye in front of the security line, and you sink into the kiss, trying to communicate all you could never say. She whispers against your lips to just give her one more season of France. You tell her there was no need to decide anything now, that the two of you could talk about it more when you were back in Japan. But she has always been stubborn, and the smile reaches her eyes when she tells you it has already been decided. You hug her so tightly then that you worry you’ll meld yourself to her, but she laughs at your exuberance and hugs you back with the same ferocity.

Claudine waits for you as you make it through the security line, and you turn back to give her one final wave before you head to the gate to await your flight. When you are sure she can no longer see you, you begin to cry.

You find a vase for the marigolds, and after adding water to the container, you set the vase on Minako’s desk, right by her favorite stuffed sea turtle, per the younger girl’s instructions. You tuck Minako in for the second time that night, and once she is officially settled, you read her the same book from earlier. She’s entranced as you act out the story of a little rabbit riding a shooting star to visit earth, giggling and urging you on, though sometimes she interrupts to give you critiques on your performance. You take it in stride, even though her notes aren’t always the most precise, but your hallmark has always been your ability to appease the audience and you make the necessary adjustments to your performance.

Before you reach the climax of the story, you feel Claudine’s presence, and sure enough, she is watching you from the doorway. When you meet her eyes, you motion for her to join Minako on the twin bed, and Claudine takes the cue and wraps an arm around Minako as she leans back against the headboard.

You continue with your performance, and though you always gave it your all when reading to Minako, you put on an extra shine knowing Claudine was watching you. With your schedules, it wasn’t too often you could see each other perform on stage. You wanted her to know that even when the two of you were working on different productions, you were still working hard to reach your goal of being the best performer there ever was. That she could never rest on her laurels.

When you finish with a perfect rendition of the little rabbit escaping the clutches of a dragon to return to the moon, they applaud your performance. Minako cheers her praise, and when you look at Claudine, she is looking at you as if you were the most excessive and loveable person on earth.

You are about to tell Minako that it was time to go to sleep, when she turns her attention to Claudine.

“Can you sing me a lullaby, maman?”

You consider protesting, knowing how worn Claudine’s vocal cords must be from rehearsal, but she reads your mind and with one piercing look waves off the concern. You roll your eyes playfully, and with a learned accord, you take her place on the bed as she takes the stage on Minako’s rug. You have a stray thought that perhaps the real reason you two decided on children was to have an audience that was obligated in watching you two perform, and you make a note to tell Claudine the thought sometime later.

Claudine begins to sing a lullaby she wrote back during the days of her pregnancy. You remember how voraciously Claudine would write when she found smidgens of free time between doctor appointments and other preparations, wanting to communicate all she could to the small bundle within her, and now, she had written an album’s worth of lullabies for Minako and Minako alone. You hope that Minako would come to appreciate the magnitude of what those songs meant, and maybe even sing them to her children if she decided to one day have any. Though the idea of becoming somebody’s grandmother thoroughly stops that train of thought, and you return your attention back to Claudine.

You glance down and see Minako’s eyes begin to droop, her body becoming slack against you, with the occasional jolt as she tries to make it through the song. She is just as stubborn as you and Claudine, but before long, her tiny snores accompany Claudine’s voice as she finishes her song, her radiance still sublime after all this time.

When Kaoruko calls you to inform you that she had been offered a guest lecturer position at Seisho, you encourage her to take it. Even though the two of you were in the same country and sometimes in the same city, it was difficult to arrange schedules consistently enough to see each other, and you missed her dearly. Selfishness aside, you knew she deserved a break from the Senka-ryu school, especially now with Futaba in Tokyo for a production that was receiving raved reviews. The long distance was beginning to grate on the shorter woman if the constant inundation of text complaints was anything to go by.

Kaoruko ends up accepting, and when she tells you a facet of the position would be helping the current second year class with their assigned play for the school festival, she laughs into the receiver, “they are doing Starlight for their three years. What are the odds?” And then goes on to make a quip that she was asked to return to your alma mater before you or Claudine, something she will go on to lord over you for the rest of your life.“So much for being top of the class, huh, Maya-han.” While you want to tell her that it was strictly because of her background in traditional Japanese dance and not her acting prowess, you refrain from bursting her bubble, regardless of how annoying she could be within it.

When the Seisho Festival comes around the corner, you and Claudine rearrange your entire schedules in order not to miss the event. While your schedules have always been filled to the brim with performances and rehearsals and other obligations, for the first time since Claudine’s move to Tokyo over two years ago, your work schedules are finally identical.

Claudine had wanted to find herself on the Japanese stage again before she even considered doing the same production as you, and while you understood her rationale and were supportive of her choices, you profoundly missed being on the same stage as her. Each time she was casted opposite one of your friends like Akira or Koharu, you would feel a sting of jealousy that you knew you had no right to air since she had moved for you, and this was just a part of compromising.

But you had been patient, and when the right production came along, Claudine had dropped the script on  your lap one evening and told you she wanted this to be the production of your reunion stage. You had beamed, telling her that the two of you needed to develop a game plan as soon as possible, already formulating out loud potential approaches to different characters, much to Claudine’s amusement and later, her irritation.

And in a week, you will officially debut as her co-lead on stage again for an audience, and even though the two of you spent most of your time together, you still felt butterflies in your stomach at the prospect. Rehearsals alone had been a lovely mixture of nostalgia and newness, of delight and competition. It was interesting getting reacquainted with Claudine the performer again. She was passionate and meticulous as usual, but with more maturity and flair, and though you had initially worried about how your stage chemistry fared during the separation, now, you could only imagine the unprecedented heights the two of you would reach on opening night. 

Though before that day arrives, you and Claudine enter the familiar auditorium of Seisho and find your reserved seats close to the front, anticipation rumbling within you. When the lights dim and Claudine reaches over to hold your hand, you wonder what your teenage self would think of the course your life had taken. You think she would be jealous; you hope she would be proud. Then the performance commences, and you lean back against your seat and hope you’ll be enchanted.

Watching the students perform Starlight was a study on nostalgia as each sequence they accomplished on stage played in conjunction with a memory in your mind, neither standing on its own, as details eroded and ebbed into one, and you are enraptured.

You only got to perform Starlight once as a lead since Amemiya and Masai were dead set on not having any repeat leads for the third-year production. And though each time you were rejected from being Claire infuriated and motivated you, you were at least glad that the one chance you had to portray her had been opposite Claudine. Even though the two of you hadn’t been on the best of terms back then, it was still one of your favorite performances you had done, because even back then, you knew Claudine always forced you to perform at your best.  

The ending was slightly different from what you remember, but it was still the optimistic one from Hikari and Karen’s performance, with Flora saving Claire from the tower. You cannot decide which ending you prefer most, but when you witness this Claire and Flora reunite on the staircase, your eyes tear up, and since it’s only Claudine with you, you allow one or two to fall. When the curtains close you are one of the first ones to stand and applaud, and when you look over at Claudine with tears streaming down her face, you’re glad to know you were not the only one that was touched by the performance.

As the performers give their bows on stage, you regret not buying flowers for them too and make a note to see if you could send them some later through Kaoruko.

As the audience disperses, Kaoruko appears from the backstage area where she was helping the girls with their odds and ends just like a disgruntled mama bird. You hand her a bouquet of red roses to commemorate her return to the stage, and despite her sometimes-prickly veneer, Kaoruko flings her arms around the two of you, muttering her gratitude but you hear it as if it were crystal clear, nonetheless.

She has to shepherd the girls back into the dorm for check-ins before coming back to lock up the auditorium, but she promises she’ll come find you afterwards so that the three of you could meet up with Futaba after her show to grab drinks. Theoretically, you could roam the school grounds to bide your time, but instead, you choose to loiter in the auditorium, sharing your thoughts about the production with Claudine until the last person had exited the building.

Once you are sure you are alone, you and Claudine share conspiratorial looks before making your way to the stage to marvel at the set design of that year’s Starlight, reminiscent of classical Japan, with the two stars overseeing the set from above as always.

Without a word between you, you and Claudine climb to the top of the tower. The climb was shorter than you remember it being, and you wonder if the set designers had made it smaller on purpose or if everything just looked bigger back then. Once you reach the top, you stare out into the seats, remember the grandness you felt all those years ago when all those eyes had been looking at you, the power in which you commanded the stage with your words and your movements.

“How did our version of Starlight end again?” Claudine asks, breaking you from your thoughts. You turn to her and find her staring at the two stars from the play, arms crossed, and you wonder what is going through her mind. If she would tell you the fullness of it were you to ask. The two of you had spoken at length at various times about what you had thought of the other during your time in Seisho and of yourselves as a unit, but you always felt Claudine held back some information, though so did you, so could you really fault her.

“Well, Flora falls from the tower after being blinded by the stars’ light, and Claire regains her memory for Flora but is trapped in the tower forever.”

Claudine sighs. “Right, that is pretty depressing.”

She moves closer to you, uncrosses her arms, and wraps them around your neck. Her look is coy as she leans in, and though you worry someone could intrude, you push the thought to the back of your mind as her lips meet yours.

When she pulls away, Claudine hums happily.

“What was that for?” you ask.

“I always felt like my Flora wanted to do that,” Claudine replies.

Rationally, you know you are an amalgamation of all your experiences and all your past selves, and in that moment, you feel like your teenage self all over again, as you lean down and kiss Claudine, wondering what could have been if you had been bold all those years ago. You certainly harbored a crush for her back then, but you were always too focused on the stage and your studies to ever pursue anything of merit, though a fear of rejection lingered in the crevices of your heart as well.

When you pull away, you know your face is flushed, but Claudine is kind enough not to tease you about it.

“Now that I think about it, I think my Claire wanted to do that too.”

Claudine chuckles as she grazes your nose with hers before she kisses you again and again, and though the kisses are tame, they feel like atonement for other lives not lived just the same.

Before long, you part and walk down the stairs, your hands laced together all the way down.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, Claudine’s phone vibrates. It’s a text from Kaoruko that she would be running a bit late. Claudine narrates her response as she types, telling Kaoruko she should take her time and that you’ll meet up with her when she is free.

The bench on which Flora and Claire devise their plan to venture to the tower becomes your and Claudine’s seat as you wait for Kaoruko, both of you reminiscing about your high school days.

With your lives being so intertwined with work lately, it has felt like ages since hanging out together felt truly like hanging out together, and you try to savor it for as long as you can. You speak about the past plays you had performed on that theater stage and how much life had changed now that you were arguably at the peak of your careers and going higher still.

“You know the first time we ever hugged was during our Rose of Versailles production.”

Claudine furrows her brows, before her eyes light up with a laugh.

“You’re right. Though I wanted to hug you and then some before that, I’m sure. I remember how sweet you were back then, worrying that I was overworking myself and wanting me to rely on you more, though of course not as direct as you could have been.”

“I didn’t want to be exposed,” you confess.

“We were both so exposed it’s embarrassing to think about now.”

You agree, thinking back to the words the two of you had exchanged under the veneer of portraying Oscar and Andre. During your solo practices back then, you would blush when you recited Andre’s words, knowing they would be said to Claudine. Though you maintained a professional demeanor during rehearsals, when you retreated to your bedroom each night, you would have a specific ritual of processing the words Claudine said to you. Even though you knew they were Oscar’s words, you still needed to de-escalate the feelings those words invoked, which involved lots of staring at the cast photo from your first performance of Starlight. Though in your weaker moments, you remove the context and pretend that the words were said to you and you alone.

You think about it often, if the two of you would still be together today if you had started dating back then, but the unknown is so vast that you accept that this was the course your life was meant to take. The foundation you had with her now was solid enough to build a lifetime together upon, and you could not guarantee the same sturdiness had you gotten together back then.

You laugh at her complaint as you grab her hand and place a chaste kiss to the back of it. “Apologies on behalf of my younger self. Though I think your younger self has some things she needs to apologize for too.”

Her face takes on a faux, contemplative scowl.

“Is that right?”

You see through her charade as you point off in the distance near the backstage wing on stage right.

“I believe that is where instead of taking my congenial handshake of a job well done, you ignored it, and then proceeded to invade my personal space in order to challenge me.”

Claudine taps her finger to her chin. “Hmm, I don’t seem to recall that. Would you care to reenact your version of events?”

She is baiting you, and you hate how easy you are to bait. You think of telling her this, but you did not want to hear what fish comparison she would inevitably make of you because of it. Instead, you stand up and offer your hand in challenge. Thankfully, she takes it this time, and you lead her to the exact spot from that night of your own performance of Starlight.  

“This is what happened,” you begin as you narrate the memory, coaching Claudine to take your role while you act out her younger self. When Claudine offers her hand under your direction, you push it away, and lean in closer, your hand on her shoulder, the other one brushing her hair away.

“I love you,” you whisper before you kiss the shell of her ear, finding pleasure when you feel her shiver beneath you.

She pulls away, her face reddening like wildfire.    

“You are taking grand liberties there, Tendou Maya.” She chides, her expression too cute for words.  

“Knowing what I know now, I think it’s a fair interpretation.”

Claudine scoffs before her demeanor warps into her -beloved by you- challenging haughtiness.

“I’ll show you how it went.”

You wait patiently for her cue, but when Claudine makes no move, confusion peppers your thoughts, especially when you see her bite her lip, unsure. You are about to ask her what’s the matter, when she requests for you to close your eyes.

You squint for a moment as you try to decipher her intentions before you relent and close your eyes, trusting her completely. You expect to feel her lips on yours within seconds, or perhaps an unexpected swat, but when you don’t feel anything nor do you hear any movements, you consider opening your eyes.  

“I won’t lose,” she breathes out.

Your face scrunches as you contemplate whether Claudine actually misremembered the very important details of her grabbing your shoulder and pushing away your hair, her lips brushing against your ear, her tenacious declaration igniting a fire within you…or if she was just teasing you.

When you open your eyes to tell her that there was more than just the uttering of words, you find Claudine down on one knee, a ring in her fingers, as she looks at you with the most loving and nervous expression.

“Maya, will you marry me?”

You bring your hand to your mouth, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes. Of course, the two of you had discussed the possibility of this, but you had always envisioned being the one who proposes. You had already been looking at rings with a tentative proposal date being the same date as your last performance for your joint production.  It infuriates you that she beats you to it. It makes you love her even more.

“Claudine...”

An ocean threatens to burst through you, and it was not the surprise calling it forth. It was the disbelief, that you can’t name now but will realize later. How your preconception of this moment always hinged on putting your pride, your heart on the line to posit to Claudine if you were worth spending the rest of her life with. The idea that she wanted to ask you to spend the rest of her life with you instead…

She smiles as she tilts her head to regard you, her eyes shimmering too. Her lips purse to release an exhale as steadies herself, her resolve strengthening though her gaze remains soft.  

“Maya, I have lived so many different lives on stage, and each one has paled in comparison to this one where I get to be beside you. I want to spend the rest of my life having you at my side. I want to compete with you and rehearse with you and argue with you and love you, tackle whatever dares come our way together. It has not been easy nor can I promise it will ever be easy, but regardless of time and distance, my love for you has always persisted. For me, there has only been you.”

You nod your head, the ocean bursting through.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, yes of course Claudine.”

She laughs this watery laugh as she stands, and before she can place the ring on your finger, you crash your lips into hers, and she takes the onslaught with ease as she matches your force, and only when you pull away, does she slot the ring onto your finger, an elegant band with two-stones, glittering like stars in the spotlight.

“Je t'aime, Claudine.”

“Je t'aime, Maya.”

You kiss her forehead, allow your lips to linger, before her arms wrap around your waist and yours wrap around her shoulders. A perfect fit.  

And the two stars still twinkle above you, blessing the union, or you would like to think.

You know you’ll have to inform your parents and she would have to inform hers, your friends and your coworkers, but you push those thoughts out your mind. Instead, choosing to linger in awe that Claudine wanted to marry you too.

Before you can inundate Claudine with questions, like how and when and how dare she, the auditorium doors burst open and in stumbles an excitably, impatient Kaoruko and excitably, haggard Futaba.  

“Did it already happen?” Kaoruko yells before Futaba has a chance to cover her mouth.

Claudine lifts your hand to show them the ring.

“She said yes!”

And in that moment, the puzzle pieces slot into place and you look at Claudine who smirks knowingly in response. You fight the smile on your face for a moment before succumbing to it, though you do remind yourself to ask later how she orchestrated this little scheme.

Kaoruko and Futaba whoop as an assortment of congratulations spill from their lips as they meet you on stage. From the appropriate, “I’m so happy for you both. There’s no two better people who deserve happiness,” on behalf of Futaba. To the borderline inappropriate, “I’m glad you found each other because I doubt anyone else could tolerate either of you.” on behalf of Kaoruko.

The two of you give them a play by play of the proposal, and they coo and they aw at the appropriate points, and then proceed to cajole the two of you into taking a plethora of photos that would have made Nana proud. Neither one of you puts up much resistance knowing this stage would never be here again.

Before it becomes too late, all of you help Kaoruko close up the auditorium and leave the grounds of Seisho. If all of you had been wearing uniforms, it would have been the exact replica of those long nights from high school, being shepherded from building to building in preparation for the Seisho Festival. You cannot stop the small ache that forms in your chest at the thought, but you do wish those lucky few who were enrolled in Seisho to treasure the experience.

Claudine breaks you from your thoughts when she thanks Kaoruko for helping to secure the auditorium for tonight, and Kaoruko waves off the compliment.  

“It was no arduous task. When I told Sakuragi-sensei what it was for, she practically gave me the keys.”

Sakuragi-sensei. Your cheeks warm at the thought of your former teacher most likely being exasperated each time she had to watch you and Claudine interact in class. She was a smart woman; she probably knew what was happening before either you or Claudine did. But you shake the thought from your mind when Claudine loops her arm and rests her head against your shoulder.

As all of you walk to your designated bar for the evening, Futaba and Kaoruko playfully argue about who between them had gotten the two of you together, starting all the way back to your first year. You and Claudine throw in comments when necessary to stir the pot, but when they agree that at least it was the two of them and not Junna and Nana that had gotten you two together, you ask them to clarify.

“Well,” Futaba begins, charitable as always. “Back at Seisho, all of us may or may not have had a friendly wager about getting the two of you together. Junna and Nana tried really hard, and Mahiru put up a good fight too. Karen didn’t know how to scheme, but she wanted the two of you to be happy. Hikari really didn’t care. But it was us who prevailed.”

At that, Futaba and Kaoruko fist bumped triumphantly, and everyone said that you and Claudine were the annoying couple.

You do not even know where to begin to process that information, and before Claudine could rebuff, Kaoruko adds with her typical nonchalant flair, “Leaving it to your own devices got you nowhere. It took our wedding for either one of you to do anything and it had been years, and that’s only because we sequestered you in the maid of honor cottage.”

This evening was turning into a rollercoaster of revolutions you think, one you wish would slow down immediately, but instead of succumbing to a grumble like your other half whose ears had turned a lovely shade of pink, you laugh before you ask Kaoruko if she would be willing to be your maid of honor.

Kaoruko sputters for a second, looking to be the antithesis of the refinement she liked to project, but she recovers and accepts, quipping that you would be hopeless without her. Perhaps, though the more pressing thought is that you have such a sweet friend. You were not the most forward when it came to showing affection outside of Claudine, but you open your arms and Kaoruko blushes as she steps into them, and as you two hug, she whispers, “I am really happy for you” loud enough for only you to hear.

Claudine follows suit and asks Futaba to be her maid of honor, adding that it was only a formality since no one else was more deserving. After another round of cheers and hugs, all four of you stumble into the bar, already drunk on joy.  

Without your or Claudine’s knowledge, Kaoruko posts a photo of the two of you into the Seisho Nine group chat, spilling the beans as soon as she has the chance. So much for planning to tell folks, you think, as your phone vibrates with texts of congratulations. You and Claudine thank them, take turns chatting when they inevitably call.

As Futaba and Kaoruko go grab the first round, since you are already on a roll, you call your parents and tell them the news. While you wished you could have done it properly, knowing how your friends could be with secrets, you wanted them to find out from you first. You do like the fact that you aren’t in the same room as them. They seem genuinely excited when they offer their congratulations, even wanting to speak with Claudine to impart their well wishes to her too. Before hanging up, they make a comment of being discreet with the information, lest it affects both of your careers. You refrain from allowing it to sour your mood and tell them that the two of you already know.

Claudine waits to call her parents because of the time difference but tells you that they more or less already know and are just waiting on the confirmation. It was a family ring after all.

Before Futaba and Kaoruko return, you press Claudine close to you and whisper into her ear, “I can’t wait to be your wife.”

She beams up at you sweetly, but you allow the levity to last only a moment before you level her a serious glare.

“But I will be getting back at you for beating me to the proposal.”

Claudine laughs.

“Hey, I was just fulfilling my promise of not losing to you.”

You are about to retort when Futaba and Kaoruko return with drinks. After they are passed out, there is a round of cheers of “To Maya and Claudine!” before all of you drink, and the smile Claudine rewards you when you meet her eyes is better than any applause you have ever earned before.   

As soon as the last note of the song dissipates into the air, you silently clap in lieu of waking Minako as Claudine gives a playful curtsy. She walks over to the bed and kisses Minako on the forehead, carding her bangs fondly before looking at you and silently asking if you needed help. You wave her off as you gently disentangle yourself from Minako’s grasp and kiss your daughter goodnight before you and Claudine get off the bed. The two of you spare one more glance at Minako from the doorway before you turn off the lights and quietly close the door.  

You head to the kitchen, and Claudine pours the two of you wine as you plate and warm her food. It amazes you that the two of you moving with such domestic synchronicity is a facet of your life together. You remember once, years ago, when Kaoruko and Futaba came to visit shortly after Minako’s birth, how Kaoruko saw you tend to Claudine and Minako’s needs, how you made sure everyone had their tea and snacks, how you were the ideal host, wife, and mother, and declared that the great Tendou Maya had become domesticated because of it.

You took it in stride then because you knew Kaoruko only wanted to get a rise out of you, even laughing along with everyone else though with a few milliseconds delay. Though the comment irked you even weeks after, now you find that you do not mind the description as much, especially when it felt so apt at times. There was nothing to be ashamed of, you’ve learned. Your priorities had just shifted.

When you set the bowl in front of Claudine, her eyes widen to such a comical degree that you wonder if you were the same way when you looked at Baumkuchen, understanding now why Claudine would laugh at you.

“I thought I smelled it, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.” She grabs your hand that’s resting on the back of her chair, plants a kiss on it. “You made me beef bourguignon?”

“You looked like you could use it.”

She releases the little exhale she does sometimes when she’s touched, planting another kiss to your hand before squeezing tight. “Thank you, Maya. You are very sweet to me.”

You share a smile before you lean down and kiss the top of her head. You take the seat next to her at the kitchen table.

Claudine returns her attention to the stew and brings a spoonful to her mouth, closing her eyes as she savors the taste, pursing her lips the same way she had for all these years. When she opens her eyes, they are gleaming as she begins to dig into the stew and your chest sticks out a bit more.

“Does it meet expectations?”

“It surpasses them.”

The conversation revolves around both of your days, about the hassles in Claudine’s current production, some of the necessary arrangements the two of you still needed to settle on before the move, like making Mahiru a house key since she would be housesitting for the duration and which type of school to enroll Minako into once you all get to Paris. You briefly mention the doctor Claudine got her IVF treatments from, just a comment that the doctor was in demand, and you are considering making an appointment. Claudine does not press, she told you it was your choice if you wanted to get pregnant in France, but you see a flicker of a smile, nonetheless.

As the conversation continues, you notice a spark of tension within Claudine and think it was a trick of the eye, but you know Claudine almost better than you know yourself. When she begins to ramble about hearing a lead on a house to rent from her father in the same Parisian neighborhood she grew up in, you place your hand on hers, and she quiets immediately.

“You’re nervous.”

“I am,” she breathes out as she slumps against the kitchen chair. She turns her hand underneath yours and begins to play with your fingers. “It’ll be Minako’s first time in France, and I don’t know if her French is good enough to speak with the other children there. I wanted to work with her more on her vocabulary and pronunciation, but with work and everything else, I didn’t have time. And now I feel even more like a bad maman because not only am I missing time with her, now I’m dragging her to a new country and throwing her off the deep end. If she ends up hating France because of it, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself.”

You scoot your chair nearer to her and lean in close enough for her to make eye contact. She had disclosed bits and pieces of this to you before, but it was nothing like the guilt you saw in her eyes now, and you do your best to reassure her as you reach over and cradle her hand within both of yours.

“Minako will love France. I am sure of it. All she can talk about these last few days is about the move and seeing your parents and climbing the Eiffel Tower and eating croissants. She is going to have a great time. As for her French, she’ll have us and your parents there to help her so please do not stress as much.”

Claudine sighs.

“I know, but a part of me keeps thinking it’s a mistake.”

If you were a worse woman, you knew this would be your chance to plant the seed that would dismantle the plan to move to France, of pausing your career. All the concerns and worries about the move would cease, but you were not a worse woman, especially when it came to the woman who always inspired you to be your best. If Claudine were to falter, you would be there to steady her, as she always did for you.   That was the vow you made to each other. 

“It’s not a mistake,” you reply. “I think you are just stressed about wrapping up this production and are placing it elsewhere. The move will be good for our family and your career. Minako needs to experience more of her French heritage, though if she ever says méchante va to me, we are returning to Japan immediately.”

Claudine laughs, the tension within her quelling a bit, as she brings her hand to the back of your neck and plays with the baby hairs there.

“Also, I want to see you as Oscar again,” you confess. 

She stares at you for a moment, her eyes shiny, before she brings you closer and kisses you. When she pulls back, she rests her forehead against yours and tells you that she loves you.

You reassure her a bit more about the move, and when her nerves seem settled enough, you tell her to head to bed and that you’ll clean up in the kitchen. She is about to argue when you shoot her a look, and you know she must be depleted because she does not even attempt to fight, instead agreeing with a pout, the exact same one that Minako had.

As Claudine makes her way out of the kitchen, she pauses when she notices Minako’s artwork from that morning on the fridge. She taps it before she looks at you. You tell her it’s a drawing from Minako’s dream that the younger girl wanted Claudine to have, and after Claudine studies it, she smiles.

“She is surprisingly good for her age. How would you feel if she became an artist? She does spend a lot of time staring at Portrait de la jeune fille en feu.”

Portrait de la jeune fille en feu was your wedding gift to Claudine. When historians discovered Heloise’s book contained a nude drawing of Marianne that the artist had sketched herself, the theory that Marianne and Heloise had a relationship was cemented. Marianne’s painting, Portrait de la jeune fille en feu, whose subject was once unknown turned out to be Heloise upon further examination. You knew Claudine would adore the portrait, and though you had considered spending an exorbitant amount of money to get her the original one, you gifted her a high quality rendition instead. The original belonged next to Marianne’s other works in the museum, and your version belonged in the living room of the home you made with Claudine.

“I would support Minako no matter what, and if she does become an artist, I can forever claim that I saved up all my artistic talent to be able to give it to her.”

You say all of this, though you desperately want Minako to love the stage as much as you and Claudine do, but you had promised yourself that you would never force it. That if she did not want to pursue the stage, you would accept it and be supportive of her in her pursuits, within reason of course. You could only cave so much before you were a completely different person.

The last thing you wanted to do was to guilt her into the stage like your parents had, and you did not want to overwork her like Claudine’s parents had done. Minako would go at her own pace, and though you and Claudine were planning on enrolling her in dance classes and musical lessons in France, you were also preparing yourself for the possibility that she would want to do something else. Perhaps volleyball if the way she was enraptured when the older girls played at the park was anything to go by.

Even though your parents had given you all the resources possible to excel on stage from lessons to genetics, it was not until you saw Claudine perform in Arrie that it clicked for you that you wanted to be an actor. You and Claudine had already discussed when you would allow Minako to see the entirety of one of your performances, and while ideally the two of you would do a joint production for occasion, you know Claudine’s Rose of Versailles production would end up being the first one. Surprisingly, you were fine with that idea because if there was anyone who could convince Minako to love the stage, it would be Claudine. Minako was already obsessed with watching Claudine’s performances from her child actress days so you think  Minako would only need an extra push.  

Claudine laughs at your comment, breaking you from your thoughts.

“You are still so infuriating,” she teases you before she takes Minako’s drawing off the fridge, folds it, and places it in her pocket. Perhaps, as a reminder for a rainy day you think as your hand touches the petals of the marigold Minako gave you that had been left on the table.

Before she goes, Claudine tells you that she’ll wait up for you so don’t take too long. You smile. You tell her you won’t.

When Claudine had first presented you with the idea of a two-month honeymoon in France, you were less than enthused. It would be easy enough, considering that the two of you were planning to have the wedding in France where you could legally be wives and not just ‘civil partners.’ But both of you were such work horses that you worried you would get too antsy without the usual outlets of rehearsing and performing to regulate you. However, when Claudine confesses that she had always wanted to spend a languid amount of time in France with you, without the obligations of the stage breathing down your necks, you relent with ease. Since it was a request from your future wife that you could grant, how could you say no?

The two of you spend a majority of the honeymoon in Claudine’s family’s villa in northern France. It was situated in the outskirts of an idyllic country town, with flower-lined waterways and cobblestone pathways, the mountains towering in the distance. Your fears of lethargy turn out to be unwarranted as the two of you spend your days doing whatever captured your interest. Bicycling through town, picnics in various meadows and parks, visiting Claudine’s extended family that welcomed you with such a warmth that still touched you years later, and picking up hobbies that you had let fall by the wayside in your ruthless pursuit of the stage.

And of course, sex, lots and lots of sex. You had the villa all to yourselves, and it was your honeymoon after all.

You will remember your time there as a luxurious blur of tranquility and bliss.

What strikes you the most of your time there was learning more about the version of Claudine that existed in France. You saw glimpses of it during your past visits, but she really blossomed in the countryside. She laughed easily and often, was less inclined to stress over trivial matters. Her lightness took up so much space that it was perpetually infectious. It wasn’t that she was different, per se, but her rigidity in maintaining professionalism and perfection in the everyday melted away, and she was no longer the Saijou Claudine, but Claudine, your wife. Which gave you permission to be Maya, Claudine’s wife, and not the Tendou Maya.

While you improve your cooking skills and your French during this time, Claudine works on her songwriting. You had been surprised when you first learned of her hobby, having no awareness of it during your time at Seisho, but apparently, it started when she had first taken ballet classes, subconsciously creating lyrics for songs without words. The hobby took off once she got older and was able to jot lyrics down on paper, though only in secret. The first time you heard an original song of hers was for your second anniversary together, the only time you have ever seen her so self-conscious during a performance, which of course, you found endearing.

But now, she openly strums her guitar around the villa as she irons out the kinks in her lyrics, quietly singing to herself as she crafts her melodies. She serenades you after sex too, though only when you ask, which is most of the time. It feels decadent, to watch a nude Claudine sing to you, as the moonbeams shine like a spotlight onto her skin, and though you were always one looking towards the future, these moments were the only times you wished could exist in repetition.

One evening, the two of you are lounging on the balcony of the master bedroom as Claudine sings you a melody she was still working on about light touching the earth from stars that have since passed on. When she finishes, she sets her guitar to the side but does not engage you in another round of intimacy like you expect. Instead, she stands up from the loveseat and walks to the railing, still draped in her robe, looking out into the field of marigolds, haunting in the moonlight.

You follow her movements, tugging your robe closer against your body to fight off the chill. When you reach her, you place your hands on her biceps as you slowly massage them up and down. She doesn’t offer anything, even though she softens under your touch, until you kiss the shell of her ear and asks her what’s wrong.

She begins to tell you about her maternal grandmother. How her grandmother was raised in the area, growing up in a family with a humbler lineage, how she met Claudine’s grandfather when he was summering in the area with his family. How there was love there, Claudine was sure, but she also knew her grandmother married him for the economic security his wealth could provide. How she gave up her hometown to be able to send money back to the family members that still lived there and how she only returned once he died.

You look out into the expanse of the French countryside, the breathing foreground to a quarter of Claudine’s ancestral DNA. From what Claudine had once told you, her grandfather had bought this villa for her grandmother as a present, though when she returned to the area, she chose to live in her childhood home instead. Claudine’s mother technically owned the villa now, and you know Claudine was primed to one day inherit it.

“I used to have this fantasy when I was younger of living out here when I got older,” she tells you as she leans into you. You wrap your arms around her shoulders, her hands rising to hold them in place.

“Really?”

“Yes, we would only come to visit during the summer since my parents forbade me from working so I could have some time out of the year to enjoy being a child, or so they say. I remember the days feeling very dreamlike and just wanting them to continue forever.”

The gentle buzz of insects permeates the air, the river in the distance trickling in its journey, and you have to ask.

“Would you want to live here now?”

Claudine turns enough in your embrace to gauge your features, a frown on her face before shaking her head.

“To visit, yes. But to live? No. I only foresee that happening if we end up having children and one of them decides they want to live here. And if you passed away before me.”

You feel yourself furrow your brows, how intently she had thought of this. An existence without you.

“Passed away?” escapes your mouth without permission.

“Japan would be too painful without you.”

You feel these tiny tremors bubble within you as you rest against her back, pulling her closer to you. You have flashbacks to your conversation during your engagement, when she decided to stay in Japan, resigned herself to it if you were not being generous. You wonder if a part of her resented you for it, would ever resent you for it, and if there would come a day where this pebble of guilt will ever cease to clang within you.

“Claudine…” you whisper into the night air, watch it dissolve into silence like a prayer.

Claudine stiffens for a fraction of a second before she softens. She turns fully within your arms and pats your cheek before kissing you sweetly. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t talk about such morbid things.” She fiddles with the lapels of your robe, offering you a white flag of a smirk. “Besides, I think the main appeal was the beef bourguignon so I’m glad you are learning to make it.”

You want to ease into her playful mood, absolve yourself of the tightness of your chest, but you feel the questions flooding your throat, and only when you see her eyes looking at you with such love, do you swallow those questions down. Your ego could not survive if she were to tell you that she had moments where she regretted choosing you.

So, instead you mirror her smile, notice the tension leave her shoulders, before you change the subject. 

“What did you imagine yourself doing here? You know, if there was no stage and you lived here permanently, what would you want to be doing?”

Claudine scrunches her face in thought before letting out a puff of laughter. “I have no clue. I don’t think I gave it much thought when I was younger. If I were to pick now, maybe wandering around town and singing songs. Though if I had to pick a serious, legitimate career, maybe a music instructor at the local university. Or,” her eyes widen like little planets, “I could be a fisherman.”

You laugh, always adoring her enthusiasm when it comes to fishing. “Yes, I can see it now. You in your fishing coveralls, hawking your catches at the farmer’s market. People would come from far and wide to see the cutest fisherman there ever was.”

She had already taken you a couple of times to fish in the pond close to the villa. While you still did not understand the appeal, you did like it when she wrapped her arms around you from behind to show the proper form to cast a rod, and though it was against your nature, you would mess up on purpose just so she could show you again and again.

“How about you?” Claudine asks, breaking you from your thoughts.

“How about me?” you repeat.

She rolls her eyes as she playfully flicks your shoulder.

“Yes, you. You’ve been a part of my fantasies of the future ever since I saw you at Futaba and Kaoruko’s wedding. So, what would you want to be doing?”

Claudine could be so romantic at times, but instead of commenting on it, you think of her question as you cock your head, offer her a smile.

“Of course, we are still married.”

“Of course.”

“And, if you are a rogue bard, I would want to be the person in the town government assigned to get you to stop singing just so I could sabotage the system so you can continue to sing to your heart’s content. But if you decide to pursue one of your more legitimate career options, I think I would like to own a café and bakery. Obviously, we would specialize in Baumkuchen.”

“Obviously,” she parrots with a laugh.

“And after you are done with work for the day and have showered if you pursue the fisherman route, you could stop by and have tea to decompress before I close for the day.”

“That might be too early to close though.”

You shrug your shoulders.

“Well, the café would only be a hobby to keep me busy until you come back home.”

Claudine’s face softens for a moment before her eyes glint in an accusing fashion.

“And so you can have an endless supply of Baumkuchen too, huh.”

You laugh.

“Well, that is certainly a plus.”

The two of you devolve into your usual banter as you tell her that you’ll keep the café open in the evenings if she wants to perform and she rebuffs, telling you that just because you were married didn’t mean you could exploit her labor. A comfortable volley of teases and jabs within a hypothetical that wasn’t tethered to the existence of the stage, and perhaps, this was what Claudine wanted your honeymoon to be. 

But the stage remains, and as the laughter quiets, you feel overwhelmed by your love for her. You want to be able to give her everything she desired but even you with your god-complex knew that would be impossible. You feel as though she has given you everything you desired, but you knew that to be a lie because there were always things that she could never give you. The euphoria of the stage, of the applause, of fine-tuning yourself down to the minutiae to be able to fully embody your characters night after night to ravenous reviews of your perfection. The ambition and the greed that propelled you forward, she could ignite them, but she could not give them to you.

But those are not the things you want to tell her. You want to tell her that the two of you could live in the villa after the two of you have retired from the stage or maybe even before then, but you do not know enough about the future to be able to promise her that. Don’t know what choices and sacrifices the two of you might make that would pull you elsewhere from that fantasy.

So, you don’t say anything at all as you lean in to kiss her, slowly undoing the sash of her robe.

“Maya,” she breathes against your lips but doesn’t pull away when the robe falls open.

You take a step back to appreciate her form before you press back into her, her back against the railing from impact. Your lips pull away from hers and begin to wander to her jaw, her neck. The skin salty from your earlier sessions, sweet from the scent of marigolds in the air, and wholly intoxicating.

Her hands find residence in your hair, tugging lightly in encouragement as you slither down her body, planting kisses anywhere you can. Her collarbone and her chest, her stomach and then further down still. You’ve always hungered for Claudine, but here, you want to consume her to such an extent that she would never be too far away from you.

When you find yourself kneeling, you adjust your robe to cushion your knees, before you look up at Claudine, framed against the moonlight, eyes hooded, breathtaking like always. She looks at you as she strokes your cheek before she nods at your questioning eyes. You smile before you widen her stance and run your tongue along the length of her. You will never tire of the taste, of the sounds she makes above you as she tugs you closer and closer to her, her moves becoming more erratic with each minute that passes.

You know you could not give her everything, but you could give her this. You adjust the movements of your tongue and hands to satisfy her needs, and before long, she climaxes against your mouth, failing to muffle the sounds with a fist to her mouth.

As you stare up at her, you believe she is the holiest thing you have ever known and hold her steady as she comes down from her high. When she slumps against the railing, chastising you for being so insatiable, you laugh as you stand up to her height, slightly massaging your knees as you do so.

You place your arms on either side of her on the railing, trapping her, and as you lean in for a kiss, she stops you. You look at her as she languidly brings her thumb to caress the outline of your wet lips before dipping her thumb into your mouth. You gently bite the digit as your tongue caresses the underside of her finger and you make sure to maintain eye contact as you suck her slickness from her thumb. Claudine’s eyes darken as she pulls her thumb away from your mouth and crashes her lips into yours, tasting herself on your lips.

You moan, forever grateful for this woman who is as greedy as you. You bite her bottom lip softly before you pull away, quipping, “who’s the insatiable one now?”

You hear a growl, and before you are aware of it, the world changes perspective as you no longer feel your feet solidly on the floor with Claudine looking at you from above, blanketed by the night sky.

“Saijou-san!” you yelp as you realize she has swiped you into a bridal style position with an ease that later you’ll be impressed by, but for now, acts as a cold shower to your libido.

“Is that anyway to call your wife?”

“Saijou-Tendou-san then,” you huff.

She laughs as she begins to walk to the sliding doors and into the bedroom. “I told you I wanted to carry my bride over the threshold.”

“I thought that was for our apartment back in Tokyo.”

“Well, this villa will one day be ours, so it counts.”

Ours.

Your irritation with the situation dwindles as you reach up and begin to bite her neck, seeking revenge as your hunger reignites. You admire her ability to maintain her composure even as you begin to suckle the pulse point on her neck, though you know it takes all her concentration to do so. When she reaches the bed, she throws you down without prompt before she removes her robe and crawls over you, pinning your wrists above your head, seductive and daring all at once.

“I’ll show you who’s the insatiable one,” she husks against your lips as she presses her knee against your core, eliciting a deep groan. Your body arches, and she takes the opportunity to rake her teeth against the curve of your neck, undoing the sash of your robe with her free hand. A precursor to spending the rest proving herself right, not that you have any complaints.

 After all, Claudine was a meticulous performer through and through.

After you organize and clean the kitchen, you head to the bedroom only to find Claudine already passed out despite her promise otherwise. You should get ready for bed too, you know, but instead, you watch Claudine from the doorway, finding yourself charmed by your sleeping wife’s form even after all this time.

Even though the two of you had established sides of the bed early into your relationship, if Claudine fell asleep before you got into bed, she would inevitably end up on your side of the bed looking for you, just like she was now. It had touched something tender within you when you had first noticed the habit years ago, and though you knew there could be a litany of other explanations, you chose to believe it was a reminder of her love for you.

There were times you felt so distant from her, like when you had asked her what language she thought in and she told you French, something you had never considered. How this very intimate fact about your wife had evaded you for much of your relationship before you had asked, how she had a whole internal world you were not privy to unless you asked and unless she told you. You understood, rationally, this was just what being a human was, and did you not have your own internal world too? But she thinks of you in French, she thinks of the world in French, and how weary must it be to constantly be translating just to be understood.  

You know this is just a part of being with someone for as long as the two of you have, the ebb and flow of closeness, of distance. Though now, as her breathing fills the room, her body expanding and deflating as she curls into your side of the bed, you ache to be near her. You go through your evening routine as quickly as you can before you turn off the light and slip into Claudine’s side of the bed.

Almost immediately you feel Claudine’s body scoot closer to yours, her arm wrapping itself across your chest.

“I took your side again, didn’t I?” she mumbles into your shoulder.

“Yes, you did my love. Now go back to sleep,” you tell her as you maneuver yourself enough to gently place a kiss on her forehead.

You expect a sleepy agreement, but instead, Claudine moves until her head is at the same level as yours on the pillow, her eyes fully open. You wonder what it was about your response that awakened her, nothing seeming out of the ordinary. And though she still had a full week of performances starting tomorrow, she is stubbornly awake at your behest. You want to chide her, but instead, you watch her.

Her hand comes up to brush away your hair from your face.

“You’re worried about France too, aren’t you?”

You stare at her, the gentleness of her eyes, and you nod your head.

“I am.”

She crinkles her forehead, parsing through her thoughts.

“What is it that you are worried about?” she brings her hand up to your stomach, rubbing gently. “Are you worried about the pregnancy? Because there’s no pressure to do that while we’re in France. And if you are no longer wanting to carry, we can talk about it because I do think Minako should have a sibling.”

“I’m absolutely terrified of the aspect of getting pregnant,” you say with a chuckle, “and that is a part of it, but the main thing is…”

“Maya,” it’s a simple command, loving and gentle that leaves no room for indirectness. You swallow once, the darkness making you braver.

“You gave up France for us, and if we go back and you ask that we stay in France permanently, I don’t know what I would do.”

Claudine goes quiet at the confession as she studies you, her fingertips ghosting over the frowns on your face. You see a spark of amusement, but there’s some anger and some hurt too, though you don’t know if that is true or if it’s just the shadows playing tricks because as soon as you give them names, they are gone from her eyes, and she regards you like you were her most hopeless and precious thing.

“Maya, I don’t know if you are worried about not meeting expectations or if you feel guilty for not giving me everything that I want or some combination of both.” It’s not said with any malice, just matter of fact, her tone is gentle and her touch is soft.

You do not say anything immediately because you do not know what you would say. Claudine doesn’t press, just gives you all the space you need. You focus on the ceiling, try to find shapes within the orange peel texture as you search deep within where all these feelings were coming from, your breaths the only sound in the room. A comfortable stillness, and though you still struggle with being completely vulnerable with Claudine, her eyes anchor you into the reality that your vulnerability was in no way a weakness. She would take you for all that you are, still love you despite.  

 When you’ve gathered your thoughts, you take a deep breath and meet Claudine’s eyes.

“I’ve always wanted to give you everything you have wanted, but I can’t do that, and a part of me feels that if I can’t do that, I am not meeting the expectations of being a good partner to you, and if I can’t do that, we’ll be forced into a position where we have to separate. I know it’s irrational, but this move to France is exacerbating all these thoughts since you already gave up France. I should give France to you to make things fair. I want you to be happy, and I want to be able to give you that happiness, but I don’t know if I can give you France.”

Claudine hums in acknowledgement as she processes your words. She doesn’t pull away her touch and that reassures you more than anything, how her warmth was still there. 

“If I were to ask, would you give it serious consideration? Would you do what you could to make it work if there was a possibility that suited both of us? Not a yes or a no, but would you try?”

You nod your head. You know you couldn’t give her everything, but you could always give her this.

“Claudine, of course I would. I promised.”

You bring up your pinky and wiggle it in her direction. She softens as a smile appears on her face at the memory. She wraps her pinky around yours before kissing the union and settling them between the two of you.

“That’s all I need from you. I don’t know what feelings going back to France will stir up in me and in you and in us. But as long as we are honest with each other and we try, I think we’ll be fine if anything arises. It won’t be easy, but we’ve faced tougher things.”

Tears gather behind your eyes at her words, and you know you have more that you want to ask, and so you ask it, prepare yourself for whatever shrapnel it could cause.

“Are you really okay with that? With not staying in France?”

Her lips purse as she regards you. Hasn’t this been one of the fundamental questions that has always existed between the two of you? As she gives it consideration, you wonder what memories she was tracing to formulate her response.

“Maya, you are pausing your career in Japan for me, something I never thought you would be capable of doing years ago, but you’ve made as many sacrifices as me for our family, and that’s just what being in a committed relationship is. My father had to give up Japan for my mother and apparently his mother gave up South Korea for his father, and maybe someone will capture Minako’s heart, and she’ll be in France or Colombia or Jordan. While I do miss France, I have a life here that wouldn’t be possible anywhere else. I don’t regret leaving France because I still get to visit, and at the end of the day, you’ve been my home for a long time now.”

The tears you were holding back are released without warning, and years ago, you would have swallowed the emotions down enough to get through the conversation until you could leave the bed under the pretense of getting water, but you let her see you cry. You let her comfort you as she squeezes your shoulders.

“You’ve been my home too,” you tell her.

“I better be,” she teases softly as she wipes your tears, gives a soft kiss to your temple. When she pulls away, you follow her lips until they touch, needier than you were expecting to be, and she coddles you, matching your passion bit by bit. You press yourself closer to her as your kisses deepen, wanting to feel as much as you possibly could in the hopes of melding into her.  

Your hands slide underneath her pajama top and splay against her back, eliciting a groan when you scratch her just so. With your schedules, it had been a while since the last time you were intimate, and that pent up fire licks at your resolve as Claudine nips at your bottom lip. When you gently pull her to get on top of you, she pulls away from your hungry mouth and rests her forehead against yours, catching her breath.

“While I really do want an orgasm, I am tired.”

It takes a moment to register her words, but you stop your ministrations as you gather your bearings, a chuckle escaping your lips when you have calmed down enough to formulate a coherent thought.

“An IOU then,” you offer, and her eyes are thankful at your understanding, though you can still see the want in them.

“Much obliged Tendou Maya,” Claudine tells you, giving you a peck on your lips. She reengages herself to settle on your chest, and though your body is still sensitive to her touch, you wrap your arm around her shoulders and wait until the fire mollifies.

Before she says goodnight, she asks you if you felt better, and you tell her you do. You ask if she felt better, and she tells you she does. And though you can’t see her face, you can imagine the tiny smile residing there nonetheless.

You exchange goodnights before you begin to hum one of the songs she had written for you long ago. She chuckles before she begins to hum along for a few notes, your own private duet, before she drifts to sleep. You continue to hum as you play with her hair, and though you should go to sleep too, you try to savor the moment as much as you can.

The thoughts are still there, but they don’t seem as suffocating as they used to, and as your eyes drift close, you think you make out a star in the ceiling.

“I want children,” you whisper to Claudine as the two of you watch baby sea turtle after baby sea turtle emerge triumphantly from their buried nest, their little faces poking out of the sand as they wiggle their little bodies from the ever-shifting sand, waddling towards the expansive ocean to begin the rest of their little lives.

You had been in the middle of an early morning run, racing along the shoreline as the gold of dawn splashed against your backs. Claudine spotted them first, and when she stopped you with an outreached arm, you thought it was a ploy to ensure her victory over you. But when you had taken in her expression, one of quiet astonishment, you realize the magnitude of exactly you had stumbled upon.

It was a little early for hatching season, but it had been unusually warm lately or so the newscasters in Hawaii said. You had hoped you would be able to see them, but you didn’t think you would be able to.

You share a glance with Claudine, and without words, the two of you find a spot in the sand away from them to watch them as they begin their first journey out into the world, the run long abandoned. Claudine tucks herself into your side, hugging your midsection as you wrap an arm around her shoulders, neither one of you saying a word until you interrupted the silence with your confession.

She moves from her spot resting on your shoulder, blinking up at you. Ice pricks at your skin, because while you had meant it, you were not expecting to say it. At least not yet, not after you have gone through the pros and cons for the umpteenth time. You worry the sentimentality of watching the cycle of life on rotation is coloring your perception, but when Claudine tilts her head, the rising sun making her appear golden as a disbelieving smile blossoms on her face, you know you don’t regret it at all.

“Yeah? You want to have children with me?”

“More than anything,” you whisper. She searches your eyes for a hint of uncertainty, but you are resolute in this. When she finds none, she kisses you deeply.

When she pulls away, she begins to cry but so do you, a giddiness enveloping you two as you vacillate between laughter and tears, and through it all, the baby sea turtles continue on to the sea, as if the two of you did not exist at all.  

Both of you had been on the fence about having children for different reasons. You, because you did not know if you wanted them, if you were capable of having that sort of responsibility in shaping another human’s life. And Claudine had told you she was just as fine with having children as she was without having them. When you had first told her of your uncertainty, she told you it was fine as long as you settled on one or the other. Preferably before the both of you turned forty when pregnancy became a much more complicated ordeal.

You think regardless of timing it would be complicated still, but there was no one else you wanted to take the plunge with than Claudine.

As soon as the last of the sea turtles pop out of the sand and make it safely into the water, you and Claudine head back to the house for breakfast and find both sets of parents already digging into a spread of fruits and meats and cheeses, conversing happily about their planned activities for the day.

When your father had first proposed the idea of all six of you vacationing in Hawaii together, you had not been thrilled at the prospect. You understood why he had wanted to invite Claudine’s parents. Since you and Claudine had opted to have your wedding in France, the arrangement inadvertently ended up putting more burden on Claudine’s parents during the planning and execution process. While your parents made sure to contribute financially, you knew your old school father wanted to do something to repay the Saijous for their hospitality.

And it wasn’t like they hated each other, which honestly still surprised you. Knowing how you and Claudine were during your first year, you worried that your parents would be a heightened version of that precarious relationship of competition and subtle antagonism. The night they were first set to meet, you and Claudine had been so nervous about the evening that the two of you ended up going to a bar around the corner before dinner.

Of course, when you met up with them outside the restaurant, they had noticed your intoxicated state during your greetings, even though for the record, you didn’t think you or Claudine were that inebriated. You can tell your parents are furious, your father with his tight fists in his pockets and your mother with that protruding vein on her forehead. Even Claudine’s usually even-keeled father looked less than pleased. When you see your mother’s mouth open to what you are sure is going to be the chastisement of the century, Claudine’s mother wraps her arms around the two of you, hugging you close to her body.

“Oh, let them be. They were just nervous. You and your Japanese sensibilities. They would be considered stone-cold sober in France,” Claudine’s mother chided in her accented Japanese before ushering the two of you inside the restaurant.You’ve never escaped a reprimand so deftly that you consider Claudine’s mother a saint.

You know your parents were not thrilled by the display, but as the evening wore on and the wine continued to be poured, you could tell they were won over by the Saijous’ charm. You think Claudine’s parents felt the same way if their insistence for all of you to have dinner again in the future was anything to go by. This congeniality turned out to be a godsend during wedding preparations, though you could see snippets of competition arise between them from time to time much to your and Claudine’s dismay.

As the two of you walk towards the dining table, holding hands with Claudine in front of your parents, something you never thought would have been possible years ago, you feel yourself bursting with excitement. When Claudine’s father comments on it, you look over at Claudine who squeezes your hand, and with that, the two of you announce your decision to have a child sometime in the future.

There’s a moment of silence before the two of you are engulfed in hugs and are given congratulations and well wishes, and a plethora of unsolicited advice that you know will be a mainstay for the foreseeable future. When they press for timelines and the like, you tell them you don’t know, but that you imagine it would happen within the next few years.

As breakfast continues on and you watch your family chat and laugh among themselves, you feel an ache you can’t name, that one day there would be extra seats around the table with your and Claudine’s children. When you meet Claudine’s eyes, she smiles in a way that makes you think she is thinking the same thing.

After breakfast, as all of you disperse for your planned activities, you opt to spend part of the day lounging in a fashion Claudine dubbed ‘this is vacation Maya’ mode. You find yourself reading on the porch with a beautiful view of the ocean when your mother joins you, taking the beach chair right next to you. You feel the hairs on your body rise; the two of you were the only ones in the house. Your mother had not been the most vocal during your announcements, but she had been supportive.

You try to think nothing of it as she brings out her own book, making light comments about the weather which you respond with the same level of crafted lightness. And peace surrounds you both, the gulls squawking in the distance as the waves lap at the shore, picturesque tranquility at its finest. This peace lasts only fifteen minutes before your mother asks “are you sure?” without even looking up from her book.

You feel your defenses rise, and it takes your years’ worth of acting training to maintain a calm demeanor.

“Yes, I am.”

She glances at you, offers you a smile, one that doesn’t entirely reach her eyes.

“I’m glad then.”

She doesn’t press more as she returns to her book, and you should let the matter drop because this was what you wanted wasn’t it? Support without any snide remarks or unwelcome commentary. But she couldn’t just leave it undisturbed, could she? The ambiance of lightness returns, but you don’t like it. Not like this. Your mother was never known for being this reticent about her opinions.

“What is it?” you finally ask.

A silence stretches between the two of you before she sighs, pulls down her sunglasses and looks at you directly.

“You know I love you, but I’ll be frank and say that sometimes I wished I had you later than I did. You were a surprise, the best one I’ve had of course, but because we didn’t plan better, my pregnancy ended up impeding some of the opportunities I was afforded on stage. You and Claudine-san are still young. If you were to have a child now, it’ll impede on your opportunities as well. The stage has always been less forgiving to women, even less so to mothers.”

“I recognize that,” you reply, as if you had not gone through the pros and cons every day prior to this one. You take a breath, hoping to calm your nerves. When it came to your mother, you had a tendency to go from zero to one hundred in a blink of an eye, and you wanted to be as steady as possible when you asked her, “do you regret having me?”

Your mother looks stricken, but she recovers well like the prima donna she was.

“Maya, of course not. You have been nothing short of a perfect daughter to us and have done a wonderful job continuing our legacies. I don’t know what the two of you are thinking about in terms of logistics and timing, but if you and Claudine-san are thinking about each carrying, let her carry first.”

You stand abruptly, your jaw clenched, fists at your sides. Your parents had been supportive when you had come out to them back during your New National Theater days, and even in your relationship with Claudine, but you hated how they sometimes spoke of her as if she was a second fiddle, someone who existed to make you look better without her own persona. The audacity of your mother to think that you would be so callous as to manipulate your wife into carrying first for the sake of your career repulses you.

“Claudine and I will do what is best for us, whether she carries first or I do or we decide a different route. Thank you for the support, but this advice is not only unwelcomed but disrespectful too.”

You don’t wait for a response as you stride back to the house, close the sliding door behind you. The more distance between you and your mother the better. You realize you left your book outside, but you have no desire to retrieve it.

You think to go to your room, but the house feels too constricting, especially if your mother went in search of you later to finish out your conversation.

You needed to get out. Now.

You are fuming when you run into Claudine and her father at the front door, recently arrived from souvenir shopping. She looks adorable in her fisherman hat, jean shorts, and a t-shirt rolled at the sleeves. Any other time you would attempt to seduce her for an afternoon rendezvous, but her attractiveness does not lighten your mood one bit.

Claudine takes one good look at you before she piles her bags onto her father and asks him to take care of them for her. He gives you a sympathetic look, but thankfully doesn’t say anything, and when he is out of earshot, Claudine places her hand on your cheek, her eyes full of concern.

“What is it?”

“I just spoke with my mother.”

Claudine hums as her eyes flicker behind your shoulders where you are sure your mother was still reading on the porch, as if the conversation had never happened. When Claudine looks at you again, she takes your hand and pulls you out of the house.

“Let’s go.”

You walk along the same shore you had traversed earlier in the day, idly making your way into town. You are silent for most of the walk as the water laps at your feet, your footsteps being erased with each wave seconds after. Claudine fills some of the silence with a retelling of her foray into town with her father and of your father inviting her to go fishing with him later in the week, but for the most part, she matches your mood, and the ocean continues to provide the soundtrack to your thoughts.

When you make it into town, Claudine buys the biggest size of gelato she can find to share, selecting all your favorite flavors, and when you find a bench to sit on to enjoy your treat, you tell her what happened. Every single part.

Claudine takes it in stride, even finds it amusing, which you are not pleased by, and you tell her as much.

“Okay, do I wish your mother would have phrased it better and not tried to sabotage my career? Yes, of course. But I think she’s just worried about you. Your mother has always been an actor first and a mother second, you have said so yourself. I don’t think it’s inherently a bad thing, but…”

She trails off, the plastic spoon hanging out of her mouth, as she stares out into the ocean.

“But?”

She turns to you as she takes the spoon out of her mouth, her eyes soft. “I wished she hadn’t said the legacy thing. You are so much more than what you can do for them. I hope you know that.”

The lingering tension from the fight leaves your body as her words balm over you, nestling in cracks you had yet to fill.  

“I do now,” you breathe out, squeeze her hand.

You finish the gelato shortly after, and Claudine insists on throwing away the trash on your behalf, and when she returns, she slings her arm around your shoulders, and you cuddle into her side.

“I just don’t want our children to ever feel this way,” you profess.

“While I can’t guarantee that, I know we’ll try our best and raise our kids differently than how our parents raised us. Better too.”

Even though from your vantage point Claudine’s childhood always seemed idyllic compared to yours, you understood Claudine had her share of issues with her parents too. Though honestly, which person didn’t? And which issues would your children have with you? Even if perfection on stage felt attainable, you know motherhood could not exist without blemishes and scars.

“Do you worry which one I’ll be?”

More of a mother or an actress, you are about to clarify, but Claudine has always understood you best. She pulls away enough to take a good look at your face.

“Do you worry about which one I’ll be?”

You shake your head, a smile on your face. “No, I don’t. I’ll balance both too, and I know there will be times when one will take precedence over the other, but I’m willing to take a step back when needed.”

“Even for the stage?”

“I don’t think I would want to have children if they would grow up thinking I loved the stage more than them,” you confess, and it isn’t until you say the words that you actually believe them.

There’s a hint of surprise in her eyes, but you don’t choose to interrogate that as her eyes take on their usual loving expression.

“You’ve certainly changed.”

“In a good way or a bad way?” your voice is small when you ask.

She grabs your chin with her thumb and her forefinger and brings your lips to hers, whispering, “always good, my love.”

She tastes of chocolate and pistachios and still smells of orange groves, and sometimes, she still kisses you so softly you think you might break.  

When you pull away, you ask Claudine how she was handling all of this. She tells you how her father was already giving her information about the audition process for children from a parent’s perspective, her eyes stormy, and while you process that with her, all you can think is that parenthood could not exist without the stubbornness of casualties.

You and Claudine meander through town for the rest of the afternoon before you head back to the house. After dinner, your mother apologizes to you, acknowledging that she had crossed a line. All she had meant to say was that she had to pass on a dream role when she was pregnant with you, and by the time the opportunity came around again, she had been considered too old for the part.

“I had always wanted to play Christine, and I never got the chance to. The frustrating thing was that your father was still able to play the Phantom.”

You try not to pay too much attention to the rue in her voice, knowing how easily you could slip into that mindset if you weren’t careful. But you don’t want to fight for the rest of your vacation, so you accept your mother’s apology, telling her that you and Claudine would be finding your own way. She tells you she knows and hugs you, and you are as flustered by the action as she is. You knew she was trying after seeing how affectionate Claudine’s mother was with you, and if she could try and change even this late into your life for your sake, you feel less stressed about the prospect of motherhood.

Later in the evening, after a game of cutthroat charades, the conversation flows to the topic of different productions all of you have done. During it, your mother praises Claudine on her performance in the Phantom of the Opera years ago as Christine, opposite of Akira’s Phantom.

Your eyes bulge for a millisecond as you process this information. Your mother had never made any comments to you that she had seen the production, and she was due diligent in sharing her thoughts and her notes on all of yours and Claudine’s productions she had attended. You know she’s genuine as she asks Claudine how she approached the part, producing a warmth that you don’t know was constructed or natural, and as you watch them speak, you wonder what side of your mother you were witnessing now. The actor, the mother, the woman, but to dilute your mother into one identity removes the complexity of her existence, and you know it was all three and then some.

And this makes you entirely aware that you would not be able to compartmentalize yourself as you could on stage when you became a mother. You would be bringing your entire being into that role, and you hope against hope that your baggage would not affect your children too, too much.

But when Claudine glances at you as if your mind had beaconed her gaze, your anxiety of motherhood dwindles, and you think if Claudine is beside you through it all, you would be just fine.

Within two years, Claudine gets pregnant (decided by a coin toss by the very trusting Futaba), and though there were highs and lows throughout the process, Minako comes into the world much earlier than anyone had been expecting. You had been in the process of finishing up your final show so you could spend the last month of Claudine’s pregnancy with her in France, and when you received the call an hour before curtain, for the first time in your life, you could not care about the stage or the audience’s existence. You find your understudy, grip her shoulder, and tell her it’s her time to shine before you tell the director of your departure, and you head to the hospital, still wearing your Faust costume with the green cape and white tights and all.   

Claudine had laughed when she saw you, in between groans of pain, calling you just as dramatic as your daughter as you rushed to her side. Claudine was always a fighter, feistier than you could ever be, and she grits through the pain through hours of labor to bring your child into the world. All you can do is hold her hand, tell her she was the bravest person you knew, and support her the best way you can.

You have always strived for perfection in your career and in your life, and in that moment, when you see Minako’s blue eyes peer up at you, you think she might be the only one capable of attaining it, at least in your eyes. Every thought you know of the world and the stage is broken down and rebuilt in her image. You kiss Claudine’s forehead as she cradles your daughter in that hospital room, your arms wrapped around your tiny family, and you’ve never felt as complete, as satisfied and as loved as you did in that moment.

Even though Minako must stay a few extra days for testing because of her premature status, she is released with a clean bill of health. When you bring Minako home, all four of your parents and all of your friends help you and Claudine with settling into motherhood, doting and fussing and gifting and encouraging and feeding and doing everything possible to support Minako’s entrance into the world. 

And to ensure Minako’s continued care if something were to happen to you and Claudine, you ask Kaoruko and Futaba to be her godmothers, which they accept happily, both moved to tears, though Kaoruko tried to hide it.   

You know Claudine was disappointed that she could not give birth in France like she had wanted to, and you feel bad for her. When you acknowledge it to her, she waves it off, telling you that this one was already taking after you for being so stubborn, and perhaps, the next one would be willing to be born in France. You know the implication under the statement because you were the one who would be pregnant next, and you can’t promise her anything, but you do tell her that you will seriously consider it, will try to make it possible if it was feasible. She smiles, tells you that was all that she asked.

It’s exhausting, being a parent, but when you walk into the nursery one afternoon to find Claudine sitting on a rocking chair, holding Minako as she serenaded your daughter with a song Claudine had written for her months ago, you become undone. You think roles would come and go, but this existence was worth all the impeded roles and all the sacrifices alone.  

You walk over to Claudine and relieve of her duty, taking Minako from her arms as Claudine sleepily watches the two of you from her seat. You burst with happiness so you spin Minako around and around, her tiny baby laughs filling the sundrenched room.

When you awake, you find that the curtains that were open last night are closed and the alarm that you had set was turned off. You pat the bed beside you, finding it empty, and as your eyes adjust and your grasp on your surroundings increase, you hear faint sounds coming from the kitchen. The realization hits all at once. Claudine had conspired into letting you sleep in, and though you should chastise her for putting more on her plate when you were more than capable of handling things, you decide to let it go, and instead, treat it like the gift it was meant to be.

You get out of bed and do your morning routine of freshening up before you head towards the kitchen. As you approach, you can hear Claudine helping Minako with her pronunciation of bourguignon. Though Minako still isn’t quite there yet, you do think she is getting better, and besides, she is too adorable in her mispronunciations that you doubt anyone would fault her.  

You lean against the refrigerator, neither one of them noticing your presence yet, and watch them as Claudine changes tactics and tries to incorporate the word into a song and encourages Minako to follow her lead, which you can’t stop yourself from joining in too.

When they both see you, their eyes brighten in an identical manner that always touches something soft within you, especially when you are the focus. Minako chirps her morning greeting to which you return in the same fashion just as Claudine walks over to you, apron around her waist, and entirely too delectable for the morning.

“You’re awake,” she greets with a kiss.

“I am now.” Her eyes squint, knowing you as well as she does as she waits for the other shoe to drop, but you don’t give her the satisfaction. “Thank you for letting me sleep in and handling breakfast and for everything last night.”

She hums in acknowledgement before she steps closer to you, lowers her voice so only you could hear. “Since you couldn’t get laid last night, it was the least I could do.”

And whatever riled expression you are making she laughs at it, somewhere between annoyed and smitten, you’re sure. She pats your shoulder and tells you breakfast will be ready in a bit before she goes over to the stove.

You take a seat next to Minako who is calling out, “Okaasan, Okaasan,” exuberantly as she holds up a piece of paper. You kiss the top of her head as she gives you a play-by-play of the previous night’s dream, weaving fragments into an epic with such deftness that you are always impressed.

“And at the end of the dream, you gave me a kitten because you loved me so much, and so in real life, maybe you can get me a lot of kittens.”

Minako was too clever for her own good, you think, as a chuckle escapes your lips. You share a look with Claudine from across the kitchen who looks rather amused.

“I think our daughter is trying to hustle us,” you tell Claudine.

She turns and points a spatula in your direction.

“She gets that from you.”

And you can’t help but laugh.

Minako then goes on to show you the drawing she was working on of her dream. There was a white cat in the center of it that she had dubbed Artemis, and there were three figures playing with the cat that you could now tell were the three of you. Claudine sets a plate of food in front of you, a standard Japanese breakfast of rice and miso soup with some steamed fish and vegetables. You thank her, and she says it’s no problem.

For the rest of breakfast, you and Claudine proceed to question your daughter on the logistical nature of owning all these cats she wanted, and before the day could escape from her, Claudine announces she has to get ready for work. You offer to do the dishes, and she kisses your temple in thanks before she rushes into your bedroom. You glance at the clock, and you knew with her busy schedule she was pushing it with these languid breakfasts, but you love her for making the effort regardless of how cumbersome it may be for her.

You focus on tidying up the kitchen as Minako continues to add touches to her artwork, and the marigold Minako had given you last night lay before her, still flickering golden in the sunlight.

You were always agreeable when it came to social calls while you were honeymooning in France, so when Claudine’s grandmother was invited to a summer soiree at her friend’s nearby estate, you accepted the extended invitation even though you and Claudine are theoretically just tagging along. The friends of Claudine’s grandmother are nice people you think, but certainly an older crowd. While your social skills hadn’t been the most polished in the past, you had since refined those skills to be what most people would call a delight and what your wife calls passably charming, though you know she only does it to get a rise out of you.

At the soiree, however, you are more amiable than usual since now you are as much of a representative of the Saijous as you were of the Tendous, and you wanted to make a good impression on behalf of your family.

As the night progresses and the conversation veers towards talk about the olden days as everyone chimes in with stories from their youth, Claudine leads you away from the party and out into the gardens of the estate. She proudly shows you two bottles of wine she had managed to swipe once she was sure no one else was around. You shake your head at her mischievousness, but you follow her lead into the garden nonetheless, a smile tugging on your lips, the night sky bursting with stars above you.

In your exploration of the grounds, you and Claudine come across a humble stone amphitheater. Claudine informs you that back in the ‘olden days’, the stage used to host traveling troupes for the village children to come see during various celebrations. Having satisfied your exploration needs, the two of you take a seat on the stone row closest to the stage, passing a bottle of wine between the two of you.

You feel young then, not that you aren’t young, but you had so many responsibilities and expectations weighing down upon you, and here, as Claudine is in the middle of telling you a story of her Théâtre de Flamme days, her cheeks flushed in way you are smitten by, you are thankful that Claudine insisted you spend time in France with her in that manner.

It was difficult, you think, to exist in moments that you knew would one day be profound without thoughts of the future, of what was waiting back in Japan weighing you back down to Earth.

But you were itching to return to the stage. You had been getting emails about auditions, and you spent your time reading plays and scripts of productions you were interested in, and you knew as soon as you returned, you would be blazing through the theater world.

Claudine must have been thinking the same thing as she gets up to perform a monologue from one of her previous productions. It’s then that you realize that despite your age and the distance from the inception of the phrase, the two of you were still stage girls through and through. She’s enchanting as she always is, goading her opponent to a duel, sneering at the opponent’s feeble cowardness, her flair and pulsating strength. You do not care that she flubs a line here, takes a misstep there, no doubt the wine’s effects. When she finishes, you applaud her efforts, and when Claudine motions for you to perform something on the stage, you accept because you have never been one to run away from a role.

You perform a scene from one of your old productions as well, and you know your form is atrocious, that the words aren’t perfectly said as you too are not immune to the effects of alcohol. Though you know your performance could be considered a mark against theater itself, you are having so much fun that you do not care about your participation in sacrilege. When you finish, Claudine applauds. Back and forth the two of you go performing for the other, and when Claudine asks you for suggestions during a round, you tell her a scene from Arrie.

She blanches at the idea at first but recovers well as she prepares for the role, her shoulder relaxing and her eyes radiant. Then, she turns her gaze on you as she performs the main song from the musical to perfection, each note she hits drawing forth similar sensations from when you were a child. So easily are you transported back to your younger self who had watched her all those years, whose performance of this very character, this very song placed you on the journey of who you would become today. And now, she was your wife, your greatest love outside of the stage, and inside of it too, and you don’t know if your body can contain the magnitude of that divinity.

When Claudine finishes, you applaud loudly, and then she bows, motions for you to take your position on stage. You do, feeling invincible and unsteady, and you wonder how much of it was the wine and how much was it being in Claudine’s presence. The two of you would be leaving France in less than a week, and these days of sublimity would cease to exist outside of memory. You want to go back, but you did not know what awaited the two of you there.

As you stand on stage with Claudine’s eyes on you, you are overcome with emotion that any possible performance you could reenact drifts from your mind. You want to blame the wine, but perhaps, it is merely eliciting emotions long held confined, but instead of stamping them back down to their cage, you look at Claudine and allow yourself to be exposed.

“I love you so much,” you begin and her eyebrows scrunch as she tries to recall what play you were performing, though still looking highly amused. “And you terrify me so much because I’ve gotten to the point in my life that I have no idea what I would do without you. I had always changed myself for roles, but I had never changed myself for another person until you. You taught me there was a different way to be, and I am happier for it.”

She looks at you seriously, no longer thinking this was a performance, you’re sure.

“But sometimes, it feels like the most reckless thing I’ve done, letting you into my life because I’ve deviated so much from my original path of being a vessel for the stage, and now you are so tangled in my soul, that I worry I’ll cease to exist if you were to leave me. You make me feel so discombobulated at times, and I just want to be what you need of me, but I feel like I am just stumbling through this, and I worry that I won’t be enough for you one day.”

You don’t have anything more to say so you stop, the confession reverberating to the moon and back, the night still besides the occasional breeze. You bring your hand to your face and find wetness there, but your eyes don’t leave Claudine’s, who looks at you with the most patient and loving expression.

“Come here Maya, you’re drunk.”

You are, so you obey, laying your head on her lap when you reach her like a petulant child. You know you are dirtying your outfit, but you can’t find it in yourself, especially when Claudine begins to stroke your hair.

“I think we just have to accept that we are both stumbling through this, and there is no way to prepare for life, but there’s no one else I want to stumble through this journey than with you, my very sweet and unusually emotional wife.”

A smile appears on your face as you yield yourself to Claudine’s words, sinking yourself further into her lap.

“I don’t like stumbling through,” you murmur.

“I know, I know,” she says as she leans down and kisses the shell of your ear, her warmth enveloping you like a hug.

As you lay in Claudine’s lap and as thoughts of returning to Japan infiltrate your mind, of Claudine having to leave France for you once again, you realize more and more that you did not want to leave.

“Let’s stay in France.”

You declare as you lift your head from her lap to look at her. Her eyes search yours before she taps your nose, giggles as you scrunch your face at the unprovoked onslaught. You were being serious here, and you tell her as much.

“I would love to, and I’m glad you love France, but our lives are in Japan.” She tells you before she takes another swig from the bottle.  

“Our lives can be here. I’ll work on my French accent.”

“I like your accent.”

“Don’t you want to stay?”

She sighs as she sets the wine bottle to the side, gathers your face in her hands, pulls you close until your face is a breath away from hers. You place your hands on her lap to keep balance.

“A part of me does, but not for this phase in my life. I have unfinished business there with you in Japan, Tendou Maya.”

Whatever twine your heart had wrapped itself in through the evening unravels at her words, and all you can do is use her sturdiness to evade the labyrinth of your thoughts.

She’s watching you with those eyes of hers, still as fiery and beautiful as the first day you met.

“You’ll let me know if things change, won’t you?” you ask.

She nods her head, smiles.

“Of course, I would. You too, okay?”

You tell her you would.

The two of you stay in the gardens for a little longer as Claudine serenades you with the song she finished the other day, the one about the light of stars that had since passed on, singing of standing before the universe and if obliterating oneself is worth the legacy of light.

Before long the evening gets too late, you and Claudine decide that the two of you have been delinquent enough and return to the party still going strong. Claudine’s grandmother informs you that she would be leaving and could give you a ride back to the villa if you wanted.  The estate wasn’t too far from the villa, so you and Claudine decide to walk back. The night air was crisp after all.

Claudine leads you through roads and fields and meadows until you get home. You think of Claire and Flora, of Andre and Oscar, of Orpheus and Eurydice, and of Marianne and Heloise, and realize how lucky you are that you get to get to go home with the love of your life.

In the morning, when you wake, she’ll give you water and she’ll give you aspirin. You’ll thank her and you’ll tell her that you remember everything from the night before and that you meant it all.  

She kisses you, despite the acidic taste on your tongue.

“I know,” she whispers against your lips. “But I won’t hold you to it.”

Claudine rushes out of the bedroom, impeccably dressed and ready for work. She comes into the kitchen and kisses you and Minako farewell before taking off, and as soon as you hear the front door close, you realize she had forgotten the lunch you had packed for her. You grab her bento and sprint to the door and manage to catch her not too far away from the house. When you call her name, she stops, turns to you with a look of confusion until she notices the bento you are holding.

She jogs over, and when you hand her her lunch, she asks, “did you pack me beef bourguignon?”

“I did.”

Claudine tilts her head and looks at you the exact same way she had looked at you all those years ago when you were at the villa learning how to make the dish for the first time, like her most precious, fire first discovered, miraculous and wholly desired. Though her face is slightly different, with the hints of lines appearing on her skin. She was getting older, but then again, so were you, as you too start to see the beginning traces of laugh lines when you look in the mirror. The first time you had seen them sent you into a spiral of what it meant for your career to have the audacity of aging, and now you don’t mind them as much. You never thought you would have enough laughter in your life to ever warrant them so you can’t hate them completely, and you know the reason is because of the woman in front of you.  

Perhaps, Claudine reads your thoughts because she leans up and kisses your cheek. There’s always a slight tension in your body when the two of you show this type of affection in public, but you knew it would be different in Paris, where you could kiss Claudine without a second thought on the streets, and just like that, you become a little bit more excited about the move.

And though you still had hesitations about everything, you know the two of you would be okay.

“Merci,” she tells you and proceeds to inform you that even though she has a show that evening, she’ll try to do some of the tasks on the list from last night. You tell her not to worry, that you could take care of it, and please just focus on working hard for you and Minako.

She tells you that she always does before she turns aways and heads to her theater.

You lean against the doorway and watch Claudine as she makes her trek, and when she is about to turn the corner, she turns back to you and waves to you with a bright smile. You return the gesture, and then she disappears from you, and you stay a few seconds extra staring at the space she had just occupied before you go back into the house in search of Minako.

You have plans with your parents to take Minako to the zoo, your parents having since semi-retired from the stage and wanting to dote on their only grandchild before she went away to France. You were still irritated by how much more lenient they became as grandparents compared to when they were raising you, but you were learning to accept it, knowing it was a good change for Minako in the long run not to have that sort of pressure to maintain perfection.

While you liked that Minako and your parents got along so well, you were looking forward to Minako spending more time with Claudine’s parents once you all were in France. You could only imagine how difficult it must be for them to have both their daughter and their granddaughter so far away, and because of that, you try not to take for granted how the decisions you and Claudine make not only affect yourselves. Hopefully, the one year residency in France will make up some of the lost time for them.

You and Minako still had some time before you had to get ready, so you grab one of Minako’s French books from her bookshelf and work with her on her pronunciation of the images you see on the pages, sounding out the letters that were so different from the characters she was so used to seeing.

In the middle of a book, Minako turns to you.

“Do they have beef bourguignon in France?” Minako asks, finally getting the pronunciation down, and your eyes light up with excitement as you congratulate her, pride coursing through.

 Her eyes widen in surprise as she asks, “really?”

“It was perfect.”

You make a mental note to tell Claudine later and watch with amusement as Minako repeats the word with confidence growing at each utterance.

When she finishes, she repeats her question.

You think of Claudine’s grandmother still as spritely as ever, and how she’ll most likely make ir for all of you when you go stay at the villa at some point. Though you can admit hers is the superior dish, you hope against hope that Minako would love yours best. 

“Yes, they do. That’s where it was first made.”

Her little face scrunches up in concentration.

“I won’t like those because yours is the best,” she declared stubbornly.

You laugh as she circles her tiny arms around your neck, and you hug her tight to close.

“I’m glad you think so, Minako.”

She pulls away, her eyes curious as she regards you.

“Okaasan, have you gone to France?”

“Yes, lots of times to visit your maman.”

“Do you think I’ll like it?”

You play with her bow, as you look at her. Marvel that she was yours and that one day she would grow and forge a path for herself that could take her away from you and Claudine. Think how this trip could plant the seeds for her to live somewhere so far away from you, but you tell her the most honest thing you can.

“You’ll love it.”

She giggles, her laughter the same as Claudine’s and that is enough for you for now.

As the time nears for you to meet up with your parents, you tell Minako to get ready before you go to get ready yourself, and when you go in to check on her once you are done, she is not in her bedroom. You go in search of her and find her in the kitchen, already dressed in appropriate attire. She doesn’t register your presence as she grabs your marigold that was on the kitchen table, a small vase in her other arm. You don’t announce yourself as you watch her take the flower out of the kitchen, choosing to follow her instead.

Minako doesn’t go far, just to the side table underneath the Portrait de la jeune fille en feu in the living room and sets the vase down and then the flower inside of it. You try to parse out the rationale behind the action, but Minako’s brain can be too mystifying at times, so instead, you opt to walk over to her and ask her what she was doing with your flower.

“You can share it, Okaasan. Just until the painter comes back.”

Claudine had told Minako the story behind the painting. As you look at the lone woman in painting who stares in the distance, her back to the viewer, the moonlight raining upon her as the helm of her dress is on fire, waiting in an isolated expanse, for someone or perhaps another life, you think your daughter is just as romantic as her maman. You think that you are incredibly lucky because of that.

You pick Minako up, and she giggles as you kiss her forehead.

“You are a very sweet girl. I’m glad I’m your Okaasan.”

She places her chubby hands on your cheeks. “I’m glad you’re my Okaasan too.”

And you know right then that you want another little one soon, and even if you don’t know how you would go about it, don’t know what it is that you will be conceding by taking this path, you have enough courage to go forth towards the unknown because you know you won’t be alone.  

And when you make it back to the stage after your recovery, you’ll have three people to cheer you on instead of two. You’ll talk to Claudine later about logistics and seek her reassurance, but for now, you nestle the secret close to your heart.

You do some last-minute tasks of putting away the dishes and shooting off a quick text to Mahiru that the house key would be ready for her in a few days and if she would consider planting marigolds in the garden during her stay.

When you are finally ready, you grab the last of your things and make sure Minako has everything she needs, and then the two of you are out the door and on your way.