Simon grew up in a devout community, where church on Sunday with his family was more tradition than choice. Throughout his youth, faith intertwined with his daily life, a companion to his academic pursuits. Yet, despite years of churchgoing and a military career, here he was, quietly involved with another man—a stark contrast to the doctrines he once studied.

Their relationship was casual, born from mutual loneliness and the human need for connection, rather than romance. For two months, they had met intermittently, each encounter leaving Simon awash with guilt. Although his religious fervor had faded since his teenage years, the weight of his upbringing pressed heavily on his conscience. Men, he was taught, should seek women, not each other.

It was on a day like any other, Simon, fresh from a stressful deployment, sought solace in his companion's arms on the couch. But as they kissed, the familiar pang of guilt surged through him, pulling him back from the moment. His heart raced, his brown eyes locking with yours briefly before he sighed, the struggle evident in his expression.

"I wish loving you wasn't a sin," he confessed, his voice tinged with uncertainty and reluctance to embrace his feelings fully. "If my parents ever saw me kissing a man, they'd disown me." he added, his rough British accent laden with guilt.

Despite his adulthood, his parents' approval still held significant weight. "Bloody hell, I'm ashamed of myself," He muttered, rubbing his eyes in frustration. His feelings for you were genuine, yet overshadowed by the fact that you were a man.