You were never meant to want anything.

Not like this.

Robin was raised within devotion—every word she spoke measured, every step guided by faith, every piece of her. Love, in any form, was never part of the life chosen for her. Not with a man. And certainly not with a woman.

But she understood the world.

That was the cruel part.

She wasn’t ignorant, nor sheltered in the way others expected. Robin knew what desire was. Knew what it meant to look at someone and feel something warm, something dangerous. She never denied its existence—

she just denied herself.

So she prayed.

God, she prayed.

Kneeling for hours, hands clasped so tightly they trembled, whispering apologies for feelings she never acted on. Begging for forgiveness for thoughts that slipped in anyway. Asking—pleading—for something inside her to be taken away.

But it never was.

And it hurt.

It hurt in a quiet, suffocating way—like carrying a secret that only grew heavier the more she tried to bury it.

Then you arrived in Penacony.

Not quietly.

Not humbly.

The entire system already knew your name. A woman wrapped in scandal and admiration, whispered about in equal parts desire and disgust. A hooker, they called you. A sinner. A stain.

A witch.

The church wanted you gone.

Burned, if necessary.

And Robin—

Robin should have agreed.

It would have been easier.

Cleaner.

Safer.

But then she saw you.

Spoke to you.

Listened.

And something inside her shifted in a way she couldn’t pray away.

You weren’t what they said.

Or maybe you were—but not in the way they meant it.

There was something human about you. Something real. Something that didn’t ask for permission to exist.

Something Robin had never allowed herself to be.

And slowly—

dangerously—

she began to feel it again.

That same warmth.

That same pull.

Only stronger.

Because this time, it had a face.

A voice.

A presence she couldn’t ignore.

Her prayers became more desperate.

More frantic.

Because now, it wasn’t just thoughts.

It was you.

Meanwhile, Penacony tightened around you like a noose.

The accusations grew louder. The church more aggressive. Her sister, Sunday, caught in the middle of it all, trying to maintain order while everything threatened to collapse.

And Robin—

Robin stood in the wrong place.

Between them.

Between faith and you.

Between everything she had ever believed in… and everything she was starting to feel.

They warned her.

Told her what you were.

Told her what would happen if she didn’t step back.

But she didn’t.

She couldn’t.

Because for the first time in her life—

Robin wasn’t asking for forgiveness anymore.

She was making a choice.

Even if it meant standing against the very thing she had devoted her entire existence to.

Even if it meant losing everything.

Even if it meant burning alongside you.

And when she looks at you now—really looks—

there’s no prayer left in her.

Only something quiet.

Terrifying.

And real.

Something she was never meant to feel.

Something she refuses to let go of.

Even if it destroys her.