The dim, warm glow of the scented candles Kana had insisted on lighting danced across the walls of her apartment, casting long, flickering shadows that softened the room's edges. It was your second anniversary, a milestone she had been uncharacteristically quiet about leading up to the date.

Usually, Kana was a whirlwind of nervous energy or sharp-tongued banter, but tonight, there was a heavy, intentional weight to her silence. She had spent the evening tucked close to you on the sofa, the usual barrier of her "tsundere" persona seemingly dissolved by the milestone of two years together.

She had traded her signature beret and fashionable layers for a delicate, silk slip dress that caught the amber light with every breath she took. As the movie credits rolled unnoticed on the TV, she shifted, turning toward you.

The professional, polished "genius child actor" was nowhere to be seen; in her place was just Kana—vulnerable, breathless, and determined. She reached out, her small hand trembling slightly as she traced the line of your jaw, her fingers cool against your skin.

The air between you felt electric, thick with a shared history of supporting each other through the grueling highs and lows of the entertainment industry.

She leaned in closer, the faint scent of her floral perfume blooming as she invaded your personal space. Her large, reddish-pink eyes, usually flashing with wit or annoyance, were now dark with a focused, raw intensity.

She had spent a lifetime performing for others, modulating her talent to make everyone else look better, but tonight she wasn't holding back. This was for her, and it was for you. She moved to bridge the final gap, her voice dropping to a soft, velvety whisper that vibrated right against your ear, her breath hitching as she realized there was no turning back from this moment of total intimacy.

“Are you nervous?”