The familiar sound of church bells filled his ears.

  Ben paused for a moment before going inside. Long enough to feel the relief settle in.

  He loved the Divine Liturgy.

  Loved that it was the same no matter how broken he felt. Loved that it did not care about his inner chaos. The Church did not ask him how he was doing. It told him how things were. That steadiness had saved him more times than he could count.

  Inside, the incense was already thick. Chanting echoed softly, overlapping itself, imperfect and human and beautiful. He crossed himself, bowed, and slipped into his place.

  When it came time for the veneration of icons, he joined the line without thinking.

  And then he saw her.

  Sarah stood two people ahead of him.

  He knew the shape of her back instantly. The way she held herself—upright, composed, almost regal. Her head was covered, as always, but there was a subtle difference. The style of her headscarf was longer than what she usually wore, similar to the older women. Similar to the Virgin Mary.

  He felt the familiar tightening in his chest. He forced himself to look away. He couldn’t afford to think about her.

  When it was his turn, he stepped forward, kissed the icon of Christ, and turned to bow toward the congregation, as per tradition.

  Sarah was directly across from him.

  She bowed.

  He bowed back.

  He did not look at her. Not even for a second.

  He fixed his gaze somewhere just past her shoulder, as if she were simply another shape in the room.

  Sarah noticed. She always noticed.

  Her bow hesitated just slightly before she straightened. Her hands clenched and then relaxed at her sides. Her face remained composed, but something flickered there that broke the cold and prideful gaze she usually wore.

  She moved on.

  Ben did not watch her go.

  During the homily, the priest spoke about the watchers in the night, servants waiting for their master. Ben recognized the parable and the lessons the priest wanted to impart.

  A lesson of preparation, of Vigil. How the Church keeps watch even when the world sleeps. How Saturday night matters.

  The priest’s gaze moved slowly across the room as he spoke, moving from face to face.

  Ben felt intense yet gentle eyes settle on him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. The gaze was brief, but long enough for the priest to get his point across.

  Ben’s absence on Saturday did not go unnoticed. Then that gaze moved on. Ben released a breath as if the eye of Sauron had passed him over. Those eyes landed on a few others.

  Sarah included.

  She did not look away. She never did. Her posture did not change, but her fingers tightened around the fabric of her conservative skirt. She listened harder than anyone else in the room.

  After the dismissal, everyone filtered downstairs for lunch. The mood shifted as it always did. There was laughter, casual chatter.

  After the priest blessed the food, most of the women took off their head coverings, especially the younger girls.

  Except Sarah.

  Ben noticed, even if he tried to ignore it.

  He was pouring himself coffee when a young woman approached him. Bright-eyed. Pretty. Confident in that effortless way that comes from never having been told no.

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  “Hey,” she said, smiling. “A few of us are going to the youth gathering later. You should come.”

  She leaned in just a little and placed her hand atop his. It was an innocent touch, but her intentions were obvious.

  Ben had to stop himself from recoiling too harshly. He took his hand away and smiled politely.

  “Thank you,” he said. “But I have other obligations.”

  Her smile faltered for half a second before recovering. “Oh. Okay. Maybe next time.”

  “Maybe,” he said, even though they both knew it wasn’t true.

  She walked back to her table, where several girls immediately leaned in. Sarah was there. Victoria too.

  The whispers didn’t stay whispers for long.

  “Are you sure you made it obvious?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “I’ve never seen him take interest in anyone. Well, besides…”

  Someone’s eyes glanced toward Sarah. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap. Her face was unreadable. But her eyes flicked in Ben’s direction.

  Victoria snorted. “It’s because your hair’s too short.”

  The girl bristled. “What?”

  “He likes long hair,” Victoria said casually, tearing a piece of bread. “Always has.”

  The woman pouted and checked herself with a pocket mirror.

  Sarah’s fingers moved before she thought about it. She reached up and slid her scarf back just enough to free her hair, letting it spill over her shoulder in a dark, glossy wave.

  She still kept her covering on, but in a way that gave prominence to her long, flowing hair.

  Ben saw.

  The sight hit him harder than it should have.

  The scarf framed her face. The hair beneath it made her look like an icon. Like the Theotokos. Reverent. Radiant.

  Different.

  In his last life, she couldn’t wait to take it off. Same as the others. It was tossed aside the moment prayers ended.

  Not now.

  He set his coffee down untouched and left early.

  The cold air felt like a relief as he stepped outside. Before he could get too far, a familiar feminine voice stopped him in his tracks.

  “Ben.”

  He closed his eyes.

  Sarah stood a few feet away. He forced himself to face her.

  “You’re still ignoring me,” she said.

  Ben hesitated and avoided her gaze. He struggled to find the words.

  She stepped closer. Her chin lifted. She carried herself like a queen who had been insulted by a servant. Pride given form.

  “You won’t even look at me. Really look at me.”

  He said nothing. She wasn’t wrong. Sarah’s gaze dropped.

  “It’s been so long,” she continued. “Almost a year, Ben.”

  Her voice sharpened. “A year since you stopped. Since you decided I don’t exist.”

  Ben flinched.

  “You asked me to stop.”

  Her eyes flashed.

  “I apologized.”

  “You threatened to block me.”

  “I deleted the message.”

  “That doesn’t erase it.”

  She closed the last bit of distance and looked up at him with a harsh expression. Frustration radiated from her.

  “I’ve said I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. I’m sorry. A thousand times, I’m sorry! So can we just go back to normal now?”

  Sarah’s face flushed red as she spoke. Out of exasperation more than anything else.

  Sarah’s pale features always reddened so easily with heightened emotion. It always endeared her to him, even when she got angry.

  He forced the feeling down.

  “You don’t really need to apologize. That was how you really felt, and your feelings are valid.”

  Sarah crossed her arms.

  “Don’t talk to me like that, Ben.”

  Ben was taken off guard by her tone.

  “Like what?”

  “Like some university guidance counselor. I hurt you. I need you to know that I recognize that, and I am not shying away from it. Just… give me a chance to make it up to you!”

  Sarah stomped her foot and took a posture he was all too familiar with. Her little fists balled at her sides. A posture she had taken in many of her past arguments when her stoic veneer faltered and her frustration took over.

  It was cute. Another intrusive thought he forced himself to push away. He continued to look away.

  “You don’t have to,” he said.

  Sarah looked up at Ben in distress.

  “What do you want from me? Blood?”

  Ben flinched and glanced back at her.

  She was beautiful. So beautiful it hurt. Looking at her was like staring into the sun. Every instinct in him begged him to reach out.

  But behind her eyes was the same woman who had destroyed him before. Who destroyed him for years. He could never forget.

  “Sarah, I forgive you. It just… looks different than what you expect.”

  Sarah stared at him helplessly for a long while. She bit into her bottom lip as the silence lingered between them.

  Then she shifted. It was subtle, but Ben couldn’t help but notice.

  Her shoulders dropped, her head bowed. She clutched so tightly into her skirt that her knuckles turned white. It was a posture of defeat and submission that he had never seen from her.

  When she spoke, there was a weariness in her voice that he wasn’t ready for.

  “I miss you,” she said.

  Her voice was barely a whisper. It was unsettling. She continued while staring down at the ground. He had to strain his ears to hear her.

  “I don’t understand why you won’t come back to me. You used to… you used to want me.”

  Ben’s jaw clenched.

  “I still do. More than you could possibly know,” he thought.

  He didn’t dare say those words out loud. Sarah noted the silence.

  “Come to the gathering,” she said softly. “Please. Just… spend time with me.”

  Ben gritted his teeth and forced himself to look away. When he spoke, his voice cracked.

  “I’m not ready.”

  Something broke in her. The last bit of pride seemingly melted away to be replaced by something foreign. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes, to Ben’s great alarm.

  Sarah never cried. No matter what. But now, looking down at her, he didn’t see the Sarah he used to know.

  The prideful Sarah was fading away, as if it were a mask that she wore.

  When she looked up at him, her eyes held a grief that seemed wrong.

  “O-okay. I understand,” she said.

  He had never seen her like that. Not in either life.

  He turned away before his resolve collapsed.

  “Have a good night, Sarah. Lord willing, I’ll see you next weekend.”

  She stood frozen, watching his back as he walked away.

  Her gentle whisper broke the silence.

  “Lord willing.”