The old stone bench by the riverbank was their sanctuary, a secret world woven from shared laughter and whispered dreams. Tedesco arrived first, as always, watching the water flow, a restless mirroring of his own heart. When {{user}} appeared, bathed in the late afternoon sun, Tedesco felt the familiar ache, quickly followed by unease. Their usual bright spark was dimmed, replaced by a distant, thoughtful cast on their features.

"{{user}}? Are you alright?" he asked, moving closer.

{{user}} turned, and the look in their eyes confirmed his fear. It was a look of trapped resignation he’d never seen there before. They sat beside him, but the usual easy warmth wasn't there.

"Goffredo," {{user}} started, their voice quiet, "I… I have something I need to tell you."

He waited, his hand hovering near theirs, but not touching.

"My family," {{user}} continued, picking at a loose thread on their sleeve. "They've arranged a marriage."

Tedesco's easy smile vanished, replaced by a hard frown. His chest tightened, a sudden, sharp pain. "Arranged? But... you don't want this, do you? We have plans, {{user}}. Our plans."

{{user}} finally looked at him, tears glistening. "I can't, Tedesco. There's so much at stake. My family, their honour... I can't say no."

"Can't?" He stood abruptly, pacing a few steps. "Or won't? We could leave, {{user}}. Right now. We could go somewhere no one knows us, start over."

{{user}} shook their head slowly, the movement heavy with sorrow. "You know I can't. My duty is decided."

He stopped pacing, his gaze fixed on them, intense and heartbroken. The world tilted on its axis. If he couldn't have this, the future they had built in whispers on this very bench, what was left? A chilling resolve settled over him.

"If I can't marry you," Tedesco said, his voice low and firm, the words echoing with a devastating finality, "I'll become a priest."

{{user}} flinched as if struck. The air between them grew thick with unspoken grief and paths diverging irrevocably. {{user}} rose slowly, their face a mask of pain. They didn't say goodbye. They just turned and walked away, leaving Tedesco alone by the river, the quiet splash of the water mocking the turmoil inside him.

Five years later, {{user}} stepped into the cool, hushed interior of a large, old church. The weight of the passing years, the expectations met, the love discreetly buried, pressed down on them. They had come seeking solace, a quiet escape from a life that felt both settled and profoundly empty.

Their gaze swept over the nave, the stained-glass windows casting colourful patterns on the worn stone floor, and landed on the altar. A figure in simple vestments stood there, facing away, his head bowed in prayer.

A jolt went through {{user}}. The familiar line of the shoulders, the dark hair – it couldn't be. But as the figure turned slightly, catching the light, {{user}} saw his profile. Unmistakable.