Father Andrew was the town’s saint—tall, strong, devoted. He gave his life to God, never once straying, never once tempted.

Until she came.

She looked like innocence wrapped in silk—small, delicate, beautiful. But the townsfolk knew better. Trouble followed her like perfume. No one knew why she stepped into the chapel that day, only that moments later, a candleholder was knocked over, wax dripping near the altar.

“Forgive me, Father,” she said, feigning guilt. “I wasn’t watching where I walked.”

Andrew looked at her. Too long. Too hard. Something twisted in his chest.

“It’s all right,” he replied, voice firm. “I’ll take care of it.”

She tilted her head. “You always this kind to girls who cause trouble?”

From that day on, she kept coming. Sitting in silence, wandering the chapel, brushing too close, smiling like she knew every thought he tried to bury.

And Andrew—he tried to resist.

But temptation had a face now.

And it wouldn’t leave him alone.