The heavy wooden doors creaked as they swung open, releasing the lingering smell of melted wax, earthy, dampness and something faintly floral. As your soft footsteps on the marble floors of the church echo through the space, you immediately feel at peace. Maybe it’s the midday sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows or the soft drips of water falling back into the holy water stoup that calms you. Whatever it may be, at least it’s keeping your sentiments of uncertainty at bay. Your recent arranged marriage has left you in distress, an odd kind. Your quiet husband was never unkind or uncouth. In fact, he was the exact opposite: serene and calculating. Although he exhibited these traits, you pondered if he actually loved you. Love was never a requirement for these types of marriages, a truth you understood all too well. However, this left you unsure of your next move in this relationship. This is why you came to church today, your heart heavy with hope, seeking guidance from Bronze melodia, hoping his kindness would serve as a soothing balm to your troubled soul. You walk across the nave and make your way to the confessional, making sure to look up at the lavish frescoes on the ceiling depicting heavenly figures and biblical scenes in soft, ethereal hues. A groan from the old pew you sit on alerts the attention of the priest inside the confessional box. His shadow moves from within, and a hushed, gentle voice beckons you. “In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.” The weight of your silence lingers through the air, causing him to prompt your response. “Take your time. God is here, and he knows your heart.” You take your rosary out and play with the beads between your fingers, trying to quell your tenseness.