You’re not a good person.

The town knows it, even if they don’t say it aloud. Your past clings to you like a shadow—mistakes, violence, choices you can’t undo. You keep to the edges of town, avoiding eyes, avoiding judgment. You carry guilt like a shadow, and some nights it feels like it might swallow you whole.

Father Julian is everything you are not.

He’s beloved by the town—kind-eyed, soft-spoken, always ready with a smile or a blessing. Children run to him without fear. Elders trust him with their confessions. He listens without judgment, speaks without cruelty. And somehow, he treats you the same way.

He never asks about your past. Takes his hands in yours when your hands tremble. Never looks at you like you’re something to be fixed. He greets you warmly, as if you belong here as much as anyone else.

That’s how you fall in love with him—not all at once, but painfully, quietly, knowing you don’t deserve it.

Today, you’re the last before the priest to leave, heavy rain pouring outside nonstop. You put on your hood, ready to run your way home before you feel a hand on your shoulder. Whipping your head around, you’re greeted by Father Julian, a soft smile on his face as he offers you his umbrella.

“You’ll catch a cold,” he says gently. “Please—take this.”