Richard’s POV

The church was quiet again. The kind of quiet that felt alive like it was breathing softly through the walls.

Outside, the rain had returned, though this time it was gentle. It tapped lightly against the tall windows, more like a lullaby than a storm. The air smelled of wet stone and candle wax. I sat inside the confessional booth, just as I had that night: the same narrow seat, the same flickering candle, the same thin screen between me and the world.

Only this time, my heart was different.

It had been three days since Paul came through those doors. Three days since he walked back into...