Richard’s POV

The words hung in the air long after Paul said them. I slept with my sister’s husband.

They seemed to echo through the booth, through the church, through me.

I could still hear the storm outside, pounding on the roof, scraping at the stained-glass windows. The candle had gone out when the thunder struck, leaving only the faint smell of smoke. The booth was dark now, the only light coming from the distant glow of a few altar candles through the cracks of the confessional door.

I swallowed, trying to find my voice. “Paul,” I said softly, “you’ve done something that has hurt many, but you came here...