Marry Me, Father

End

The moment Janah passed out drunk after kissing him, Gian froze.

Her joking line, “Marry me, Father” echoed in his head, shattering the careful walls he had spent years building. The walls he created to keep their relationship the way it is. The walls he's too scared to break when the only ending is to lose her. And the same wall he built to be on her side.

He faltered, all his self-control slipping away. Leaning closer, his voice shook as he whispered against the silence.

“I like you, Janah,” he murmured, resting his forehead gently against hers. “I like you so bad that I’m fucking scared to confess and ruin everything I’ve built.”

A sigh escaped his chest, heavy and raw, as though it carried every moment he had hidden. He kissed the crown of her head softly, forcing himself back together, forcing his heart to stay still, to be back in the wall.

“I like you so bad… that the only time I can confess is through my whispers.”

He remembered the first time Janah laughed at his lame joke.

Her laughter was unrestrained, and the way her eyes twinkled alongside her smile, it seems the whole place lit just from her smiles alone. How much more from her laugh?

He pretended to tease her back, acted like it was nothing, but inside—God, he wanted to freeze that sound and keep it.

He remembered when she once drunkenly blurted that “he should be a priest.” He had laughed it off in front of her, but that night, alone, he couldn’t sleep. Because if he were, if he had chosen that path, maybe it would’ve been easier—no guilt, no fear, no forbidden longing.

But he couldn’t. He dreamt of holding her. To love her freely. To keep her. To just… love her.

Although a joke, it left battles inside him. He knew his mother believed the tarot cards more than her own son, but he didn’t want to choose the path divined for him.

And then there was Jacob.

Every time Gian saw him with Janah, something dark twisted inside. Jacob’s easy smiles, the way he lingered close, the way Janah’s eyes softened as if she saw someone really attractive, someone she slowly got used to having—it nearly broke Gian. His knuckles would tighten in his pockets, his throat dry, but he never let it show. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t Jacob’s fault.

It was his. His own weakness. His own cowardice.

He could’ve confessed. He could’ve told her sooner. But he didn’t.

So he endured. Watching, waiting, swallowing down the jealousy like poison.

He teased her. To ease that feeling. Her reactions sometimes stung, but they also lit him up inside.

At least she still feels something about me.

Because Janah deserved more than anger. She deserved patience.

Yet every small moment with her was both heaven and hell.

The nights when she leaned her head on his shoulder.

The mornings when she’d bicker with him over the smallest things.

The way she looked at him sometimes—like she didn’t even know how much she was undoing him.

Those were the moments that kept him alive. The quiet proof that staying by her side, even in silence, was worth every ache.

Now, as she slept beside him that night, her breath soft and steady, Gian forced himself to close his eyes.

Maybe tomorrow, he thought. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll have the courage to say it when she’s awake.

But until then, his whispers would have to be enough.

His whispers, and the hope that one day, she’d answer them.

But it wasn’t as easy as he thought.
Confessing was one thing, but Janah’s family, her battles, her scars, were another.

Every time Gian saw her in pain, wounded and crying, his heart ached more than the jealousy ever did. The bruises, the scratches, the way she tried to smile through it all—he saw every wound as though it were carved on his own skin.

His anger burned quietly, restrained only because he knew Janah didn’t need rage.

She needed steadiness. Still, his hands trembled when she flinched, his chest clenched when she cried. He wanted to scream, to fight for her, to tear down everything that hurt her. But instead, he stood beside her, becoming the shield she didn’t ask for but desperately needed.

He would hold her when she shook. Trying his very best not to suffocate her.

He would bandage her wounds when she's asleep, forcing himself to be gentle not to wake her up.

And in every nightmare, he would whisper, again and again, that she wasn’t alone.

There were nights Gian doubted if love was enough.

But then Janah chose herself again. She went back to studying, to rebuild the life that had once been stolen from her piece by piece. He watched her fall and rise, fall and rise again—each time stronger, braver, more herself.

He's contented, seeing her finally taking the path she wanted.

And in the middle of all that, she chose him too.

It wasn’t a sudden love. It was quiet at first. The gentle looks, lingering touches, the way her laughter found its way back to him. And then it became something steady, undeniable, until one day, Janah told him with certainty what he once only heard in his dreams.

“I love you, Gian.”

The boy who once only whispered his love finally heard it spoken back.

Years later, after all the storms they had calm down, Gian stood at the altar, his hands shaking as he waited. The church glowed softly, filled with faces who had witnessed their journey, but the only one he saw was hers.

And when Janah walked toward him, dressed in white, tears shining in her eyes, he thought of every ache, every whisper, every moment he thought he’d lose her.

Her joking words from years ago echoed once more—"Marry me, Father."

And this time, with trembling hands and a vow that would last forever. . .

He did.