Paradox

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It's a paradox that life could be so uncertain yet so utterly predictable.

Years ago, if anyone had told me I was going to be as famous as I was now, I would have laughed at his face. Not because I couldn't imagine myself to be successful, but because, in my mind, there was never any question in the first place. I was going to be an actress. And a damn good one at that. Plain and simple.

There were a few rough-and-tumbles along the way, that much I would care to admit. But nothing deterred me from my dreams. Though even the most carefully laid plans could still go wrong, I knew I'd still make it in the end. I was going to make it happen. So yeah, after how things have turned out, I guess I was actually surprised that I wasn't. I was surprised at not being surprised. What an idea.

I stifle a laugh at the thoughts I've been entertaining. I'm probably making sense only to myself. My mind had been delving way too deep, even for me. The heat must be affecting me more than I expected.

My gaze wanders around the hall. Most of the faces were familiar, and I was forced to smile or wave more than once.

I never did get quite get the hang of these social proprieties. Years of practice had given me the knowledge of what to do, but not the understanding. I am one of the pioneer members of the Love Me section, after all.

I smile to myself as memories of our time as trainees came unbidden. "The Three Love Me Musketeers" we were affectionately called by President Takarada. Though we all loathed the name, it stuck, and pretty soon, it didn't really continue to matter. We were who we were, and on a certain level, we all kind of carried a measure of shared pride in the way we were isolated from the rest. We were special.

In a way, today seemed to tug a little at my heartstrings. Today we were finally going to stop being the emotionally-challenged trio of LME. Not even our graduation from Love Me had this effect on me. When we each debuted in succession, it didn't really seem to be such a big deal because it had been given begrudgingly. The only reason we were allowed to leave our section was because we had become too old and too well-known to remain as trainees. The president's goal to make us into "loving" actors had only been realized to a certain extent, and because of this turn of events, I've always suspected that he had held a long-standing grudge. Against who or what, I'm not entirely sure.

My eyes stray toward the large doorway, where a number of guests were still coming through. Greeting the new arrivals was Yashiro-san, who looked quite dashing in his white suit. Without his glasses on, he looked like an entirely different person. Handsome even.

Slowly the church was getting filled up. I follow the lilies that lined the sides of the church with my eyes, up the walls, until I was gazing straight up into the interior of the church dome. Even the cupola had been decorated with flowers. All the stops had been definitely pulled for this wedding.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and there's Chiori smiling at me. In that bright pink dress. For a moment, I forget I'm wearing the same one.

I remember a time when I had loved playing princess and imagined myself dressed up in frilly large ball gowns. But that was a long time ago. Reality had bitten, and bitten hard.

If the president ever got wind of how cynical I've become, he would cry tears of blood. So I never did let it show. I've perfected the art of masking my emotions with a smile. I think I may have learned it from a certain someone.

It's time for the wedding march. I take my place as maid-of-honour in front of my best friend. We exchange smiles, hers a little bit tight-lipped, her nervousness apparent. I briefly touch her hands to reassure her, and with just that, her confidence seemed to return. No words have ever been that necessary between us.

I gaze at her expressive eyes and her long dark hair that had been allowed to fall freely down her shoulders. It suddenly hits me that this might just be the last time I could see this her. I never did expect her to get married, one of the few surprises that life managed to throw me off with. But at the same time, it seemed all very logical.

In those few heartbeats, I let myself imagine being her. Being the one wearing the immaculate white dress. The one who's going to promise love and eternity to the man waiting at the altar.

I hadn't been short on admirers. I've had a number of propositions thrown my way, but the only one I've ever seriously thought about was from an actor I had previously worked with. We had been quite comfortable with each other when we were working together, and I would like to allow myself the audacity to think that we had actually been friends. He was my senior in the industry and he had the talent to show for it. And I had learned so much from him.

So it had come as quite a shock when he confessed, years after our last project together. We had remained in contact but I never considered our relationship as more than friendly.

In my defense, I had a perfectly good reason for rejecting him. I hadn't wanted a commitment at the time, and if ever I would consider the idea, it would be with someone who's around the same age as I was. I didn't want my already complicated life to get even more complicated.

It wasn't in my plans to share my life with someone else. I knew too well how love could hurt you, and love was a risk I was very determined not to take.

In a sense, a lot of unexpected things have happened, but my life was still very predictable. Because I had made it so.

The starting notes of the music bring me back to the present. I give my friend one last smile before I turn around to walk down the aisle.

Despite my personal opinions regarding romantic relationships, I could look anyone in the eye and honestly say that I was very happy for my friend. I could not think of anybody who is more deserving of the marital bliss that she and her husband are destined to share.

I stare at the both of them throughout the ceremony. It really was possible to be happy and sad at the same time. Already, I could feel a distance starting to form between her and me. It's not something I would like to dwell on, but it's not something I could just choose to ignore. Things were certainly going to change, for better or worse, I couldn't say.

The loud cheers signal the end of the ceremony. I can't help but smile at how she looks so uncomfortable kissing her husband in front of a big crowd of people.

As the newlyweds turn around to run hand-in-hand towards the waiting limousine amidst raining rice grains and confetti, I realize that my role is already finished. Silently, I think of ways to avoid the idle chitchat that would inevitably follow the departure of the couple. Perhaps I could skip the reception. Ah, but I was required to make a toast as the maid-of-honour. Maybe if I just—

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"MOKOOOOOO!!! What are you spacing out there for? It's time for the bridal bouquet catching!" the bride calls to the statuesque woman left standing alone on the altar. The woman turns around upon hearing the pet name from the only one who was ever brave enough to do so. Her bestfriend. Kyouko Mogami. No, as of the last ten minutes, Kyouko Hizuri.

Everyone's attention had been drawn to her, so she hurriedly strides to where all the other single women were gathered. Kyouko winks at her and signals that she'll be throwing the bouquet in her direction. Kanae Kotonami indulges her, after all this is her day. The woman smiles at the bride to tell her she understood, and even makes a show of hiking her skirts. But the woman herself knows she wouldn't really try.

In the end, the Takarada heiress, Maria, emerged with the flowers in her hand. Somehow Kanae wouldn't have been surprised if she'd elbowed a few ribs and managed to step on a few feet in the process. She really was turning out to be a miniature Kyouko. The woman is reminded of her in the teenage girl's headstrong personality and amazing bullheadedness.

In the aftermath, the two friends' gazes collide. The new bride, seeing as her best friend was empty-handed, looked as if she was ready to burst into tears. To placate her, the more serious of the two throws her another smile, and she thinks to herself that she'd been unusually generous with her smiles. Looking at how happy it actually made the other girl, she doesn't regret any of it.

After the reception, she gathers with the other guests around the limousine as the couple prepares to leave. She exchanges one last hug with her friend through the window before she had to give way to others.

She raises her hand to wave goodbye, and it remains in the air long after their car is out of sight.

She would smile at the remaining guests and make up excuses so she could go ahead. She would cry alone in her empty apartment, she wouldn't be entirely sure why, but she was absolutely certain she would. And the next morning, she'd be back to work, as though nothing happened. She was Kanae Kotonami, after all. Actress first and foremost, woman, a distant second.

This was how she had made her bed, and now she would lie on it. How utterly predictable.

The inspiration for this story came to me in a vision... not.

I find it weird that ideas come to me while I'm doing the most mundane of things. I'm not even going to tell you what I was doing at the time because it's disgusting. Don't worry. It didn't have anything to do with the toilet.

Skip Beat and its characters aren't mine, although if Kyouko had silver hair and Ren had a navel ring, I would totally own them, legalities be damned.