Between Faith and Love

questioning it all

The next day at school, March found herself sitting with Jehwell under their usual tree, the sound of students passing by fading into the background. She hadn’t been able to shake the conversation she and Zephaniah had at the beach, the way Zephaniah had looked so worried after confessing her love. The question Zephaniah had asked kept playing in her mind—"Are we going to keep this up?" It haunted her.

March sighed, staring at the ground before turning to Jehwell. "Zephaniah  asked me something yesterday… something that’s been stuck in my head."

Jehwell looked up from her book, sensing the tension in her friend’s voice. "What did she ask?"

March hesitated, then continued, "She asked if we’re going to keep this up. Like… if we’re going to keep being together."

Jehwell’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wait, what? What did you say?"

"I told her we could," March replied softly. "I promised her we’d figure it out. But, Jehwell, I could see it in her eyes. She’s so scared. She’s worried about what her parents think, about everything. And it made me wonder… are we doing the right thing?"

Jehwell frowned, clearly concerned. "That’s a tough spot, March. I didn’t realize it was getting this serious. I mean, I knew you guys were close, but… do you really think she’s second-guessing everything?"

"I don’t know," March sighed. "Maybe she is. It’s just… everything’s starting to feel so complicated. Like, when we’re together, it’s great, but then there’s all this other stuff—her family, the church… all of it. And I don’t want her to feel torn between me and everything else in her life."

Jehwell nodded thoughtfully. "I can imagine how hard that must be for her. And for you, too. You don’t want to push her into something she’s not ready for."

"Exactly," March agreed, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "But at the same time… I don’t want to lose her. I can’t just give up on what we have. I care about her so much."

Jehwell looked at her friend with sympathy, her voice softening. "You really love her, don’t you?"

March nodded, her heart heavy. "Yeah, I do. But it feels like I’m stuck in this impossible situation. I want to be with her, but not if it’s going to hurt her."

Jehwell gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Look, March, I know this isn’t easy. But you two need to talk about it. Really talk. You both deserve to know where you stand with each other, even if it’s hard. If she’s having doubts, you need to work through them together."

March sighed again, leaning back against the tree. "I know. I just don’t want to pressure her. She’s already dealing with so much."

"I get it," Jehwell said. "But don’t forget, you matter too. Your feelings, your happiness—they matter just as much as hers. Don’t lose yourself trying to make it all okay for her."

March gave a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Jehwell. I needed to hear that."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of March’s dilemma hanging between them. She knew Jehwell was right—they needed to talk, to really figure out where they stood. But even as she thought about it, that familiar fear gnawed at her. What if they couldn’t make it work? What if they were setting themselves up for heartbreak?

For now, all she could do was hold on to the hope that Zephaniah felt the same way she did and that together, they could find a way through the storm.

That same day after school, March walked home with her heart heavy, each step up the stairs feeling like a stomp as confusion weighed down on her. Her mind was swirling with thoughts of Zephaniah and the conversation they had at the beach, unsure if they were heading toward something beautiful or something too complicated to hold onto.

In the kitchen, her aunt and uncle exchanged worried glances as they heard her footsteps, sensing something was off. They had noticed the changes in March over the past few weeks—her distraction, her mood swings, the way she seemed distant lately. Her uncle gave a quiet sigh, placing his cup down as her aunt leaned against the counter, both too concerned to say anything yet but clearly feeling that something was wrong.

"She’s been like this a lot lately," her aunt whispered. "I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s not like her."

Her uncle nodded, his brow furrowed. "Maybe she’ll open up when she’s ready. But I agree, something's bothering her. We just have to be patient."

March disappeared into her room, shutting the door behind her, leaving her aunt and uncle in silence, each of them hoping that whatever she was going through, she would come to them before it got worse.