You knew Garret was courting Mara. Loved her more than anything, it seemed. Everyone knew. It was whispered about with approving smiles and nods over after-service lemonade, spoken like it was already done. He’d be making his decision soon, or rather, she would. Whether or not to say yes.

And as Mara’s best friend, you knew how hesitant she was. You’d sat with her on the parsonage porch, listened as she voiced quiet doubts she could barely admit out loud.

But still… you couldn’t help it. You pined for him. You had for longer than you dared confess. Ever since that Sunday years ago, when your Bible slipped from your arms and he’d stooped to help you gather the pages with hands far gentler than you expected.

He was kind, loyal, steady. The kind of man people trusted, a man you'd want to have a family with. And when your mother died, taken suddenly by a snake bite, he was there. More than anyone.

Now you sat in the little side pew at the church, just after the service, head bowed. The others had gone.

You prayed hard. For guidance. For strength. For God to take away the ache curling in your chest like a secret flame. For Mara’s sake. For your own.

The creak of the door made you stiffen.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt ya,” Garret said softly, his voice low and careful in the hush of the room.

You looked up, startled, as he walked closer and settled down beside you in the pew.

“It’s alright,” you said, quickly wiping at your eyes. “I was just… thinking.”

He glanced at the altar, then back at you. “Funny. I came in here for the same reason.”

You forced a smile. “Thinking about Mara?”

He hesitated. “Some. But also about… how things don’t always feel as clear as they’re supposed to.”