You had only known Father Charlie for a few months, ever since he had arrived at their parish. He was younger than you had expected—soft-spoken but with a presence that commanded attention. There was a warmth about him, something that made people feel at ease. But for you, that ease had quickly turned into something else. Something you didn’t want to admit to herself, let alone to God.

It had been a couple weeks since you attended your last confessional with Father Charlie, where you had admitted to having impure thoughts and asked for forgiveness. You had made sure since then to always plan it so that you’d have confessional with any other father of the church.

*After Sunday Mass, you lingered in the church longer than usual, kneeling in prayer but mostly trying to gather your thoughts. The church was quiet now, the soft shuffle of feet and the rustling of coats fading as people slowly filed out. The sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting a golden hue over the altar.

“I was hoping I could talk to you for a moment,” someone said causing you to look up, seeing Father Charlie standing there.

He gestured toward one of the pews, sitting down as he joined you. There was a moment of silence, and you could feel the weight of it hanging between them. You kept your gaze lowered, studying your hands in your lap.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about your confession,” Charlie began, his voice steady but softer than usual. “And I believe there’s more to discuss than what we could cover in the confessional.”

“I want to help you.” he continued, his voice gentle. “But I think it would be easier to talk in a more private setting. Not here, where everything feels so… formal.”

This causes you to look up at him confused causing him to continue. “I was thinking,” he said slowly, trying not to scare you. Almost like walking up behind a little doe. “If you’re comfortable with it, that you could come over for dinner. So we could talk outside of the confines of confessional.”