copulation b.e imagines

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀᴡ ʀᴇʟɪɢɪᴏɴ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛᴀᴜɢʜᴛ

Billie and Maggie met during their first year of college, both trying to escape the small-town shadows they had grown up under. Billie was the rebel, with dyed hair that shifted from pink to purple every few months, tattoos peeking from beneath her sleeves, and an attitude that exuded freedom. Maggie, on the other hand, was quieter. Raised in a conservative, religious household, she was drawn to Billie's boldness, to the way she lived without hesitation. It was a magnetic pull, one Maggie couldn't resist despite everything she had been taught.

They spent late nights together, whispering under blankets, sharing stolen glances across crowded rooms. Maggie had never felt like this before—not for anyone, let alone another girl. But Billie made her feel seen, like all the pieces of herself she had kept locked away were finally allowed to breathe. And slowly, tentatively, those secret feelings turned into something more.

They kissed for the first time on a chilly autumn night, the air crisp with the promise of rain. Maggie's heart hammered in her chest as Billie pulled her in close, their breath mingling in the darkness. For once, Maggie didn't care about the guilt, about what her family or her church might say. All she cared about was Billie and the way her lips felt against hers.

For a while, it was perfect. They were careful to keep things quiet, not ready to face the world—or Maggie's upbringing—just yet. But Billie pushed the boundaries. She wanted them to be open, to be seen together, and Maggie wasn't ready for that. Billie didn't understand Maggie's hesitations, couldn't see the weight of years of doctrine pressing on her. Slowly, cracks began to form in their world. Billie grew frustrated, feeling like she was some dirty secret Maggie was ashamed of. And Maggie—Maggie began to unravel under the pressure, torn between the love she felt for Billie and the fear of what it meant for her soul.

Then, one day, Maggie stopped replying to Billie's texts. Days turned into weeks, and when Billie finally confronted her, Maggie was distant, colder than she'd ever been.

"I can't do this anymore," Maggie whispered, her voice trembling as they stood by the river where they had once spent hours dreaming of a future together. "I've been going to church more... praying. I need to fix things."

"Fix things?" Billie spat the words, her heart sinking like a stone. "You mean us."

"I mean me." Maggie's eyes were wet with unshed tears, but she didn't let them fall. "I'm lost, Billie. I've been living in sin, and I can't do it anymore."

Billie could feel her world collapsing, the ground shifting beneath her feet. "You're not broken, Maggie. We're not broken. This—this is real. What we have is real."

Maggie shook her head, stepping back, putting distance between them. "It doesn't matter. I've made up my mind. I'm going to change."

And just like that, she was gone.

Months passed. Billie buried herself in her art, in late-night parties and meaningless flings, trying to drown out the aching emptiness Maggie had left behind. But nothing worked. She still thought about Maggie every day, wondering where she was, what she was doing, if she ever thought about her.

Then, one afternoon, the message came. A short text, simple, but it hit Billie like a punch to the gut.

Hey, Billie. It's been a while. I'd love to see you.

Billie stared at the screen, her mind racing. What did Maggie want? Why now, after all this time?

They met at a coffee shop, the same one they used to visit in the early days, back when everything felt full of possibility. When Maggie walked in, Billie barely recognized her. She wore a modest dress, her hair pulled back neatly, a small cross hanging around her neck. The light in her eyes was different—brighter, but hollow in a way Billie couldn't quite place.

"Billie," Maggie said, her voice soft but firm. "It's good to see you."

"You too," Billie replied, though her stomach churned. Something was off, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

They talked, awkwardly at first, about surface-level things—work, family, the weather. But then Maggie shifted in her seat, her hands fidgeting with the cross around her neck.

"I... I've changed a lot since we last spoke," she began, her voice quiet. "I've found my way back to God."

Billie felt her heart tighten. "Maggie, I don't—"

"Please, just listen," Maggie interrupted, her tone gentle but insistent. "I've been praying for you. I know this must be hard for you to hear, but I needed to tell you. What we did... it wasn't right. It was a sin, Billie. And I've repented. You can too."

Billie sat there, stunned, as Maggie's words washed over her like ice. This wasn't the girl she had fallen in love with. This was someone else entirely.

"I'm... I'm getting married," Maggie said, almost too quickly, as if she needed to get the words out before she lost her nerve.

Billie's breath caught in her throat. "Married?"

"To a man from my church. He's kind, and he loves me. This is the right path, Billie. I've found peace, real peace. And I want that for you too."

Billie's hands clenched into fists under the table, a thousand emotions swirling inside her. Anger. Hurt. Betrayal.

"And you think marrying some guy is going to fix everything? Is that it? You're just going to pretend like we didn't—like we didn't mean anything?"

Maggie's eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she didn't waver. "It wasn't about not meaning anything. But we were wrong, Billie. And I'm trying to make things right. Please... come to the wedding. Maybe you'll understand."

Billie couldn't breathe. She stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I can't do this, Maggie. I can't watch you become someone else. Someone who looks at me like I'm some kind of mistake."

Maggie looked down, her hands clasped tightly together. "You're not a mistake. But what we did was. I'll pray for you, Billie. I hope one day you'll find peace too."

Billie turned on her heel and left, the weight of Maggie's words pressing down on her chest like a stone she could never shake off. Outside, the air was cold, the sky gray, mirroring the emptiness she felt inside.

The wedding invitation came a few weeks later. A pale white envelope with delicate golden script. Billie stared at it for a long time, wondering if she should go, if seeing Maggie one last time might give her the closure she needed. But in the end, she tore it apart, the pieces scattering like confetti across the floor.

Maggie had made her choice. And Billie—Billie had to find a way to live with hers.

October 1st, 2024

1106 words