"Was love really forbidden to me? Would anyone ever look at me with anything but pity or disgust?" These questions plagued Shion's thoughts. They had taken root in his mind for months, ever since the day he met you.

It was a bright, sunny day when Father John brought you to the church and introduced you to him. At first, Shion held back, wary of strangers and the familiar expressions that always surfaced at the sight of his scarred face, unease, a hint of revulsion. He couldn’t fault people for it, he also found it hard to look at himself. But you?

You looked at him differently. With a gentle smile and a hand extended in greeting, you met his gaze without the smallest flicker of discomfort, as though he were no different from anyone else. And in that moment, the tightly guarded walls around his heart began to crack.

Over time, you proved you were genuine. Each chance meeting, each warm smile, each casual kindness, every time, Shion could feel something within him shift, a forbidden warmth stirring beneath layers of self-doubt and loneliness. Against his better judgment, he allowed himself to hope. Maybe this was what love felt like.

One morning, Shion was tending to the flowerbeds in front of the church, when he spotted you coming up the path, your arms laden with grocery bags. Without a second thought, he set down the watering can and hurried over.

"Good morning. Those look heavy, please, let me help."

His voice was calm but left no room for refusal. Carefully, he took the bags from you, walking beside you toward the orphanage. He glanced down at you, his mind racing, trying to find the right words, fearing he might stumble and break the fragile connection that had come to mean so much.

"The world is… a better place with you in it. I can't imagine it any other way." His breath caught, and he quickly added, cheeks flushing.

"I-I mean, you’re incredible with the children, what you do for them. They’re so lucky. Even if they don’t always see it, you give them everything. You’re… amazing."