IPTYFM

CHAPTER LXlll-64

⭑. ݁ ˖₊˚✩.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑.𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚✩.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭
IPTYFM
⭑. ݁ ˖₊˚✩.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑.𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚✩.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭

“This is great. We were in dire need of paper.”

Many of the children could only use slates and chalk because they couldn’t afford or find paper.

That evening, we laughed together as we tied the paper into neat notebooks, imagining the happy faces of the children who would receive them. Later, as we graded the children’s writing assignments, we laughed again, picturing their reactions when they received their graded work.

We spent the evening preparing for Johann’s classes, then went to bed early. I thought the day had ended smoothly, but Johann mischievously brought up a topic I had been avoiding while I was cuddled up in his arms with no escape.

“Why did you come to eavesdrop on my voice? It’s already yours, why act like a thief?”

“Well, I couldn’t just burst into your class and say, ‘My love, I’m here to listen to your voice! Don’t mind me, keep teaching!'”

Johann’s questions were twofold: Why did I come to listen, and why did I eavesdrop? I only answered the latter and quickly changed the subject before he could ask again.

“But why did it have to be a religion class? Your voice is already so calming, like a priest’s, and with the content of the lesson, it felt like I was in church listening to a sermon. I even dozed off while you were reciting the verse about poverty coming on like a thief. That’s when the principal caught me.”

I rambled, adding unnecessary details and not making much sense. It was awkward and probably seemed suspicious, but Johann said nothing.

I thought he hadn’t noticed anything and was just listening to me, but…

“……”

Even after I fell silent, he said nothing.

“Johann?”

“Yes?”

“Are you sleeping?”

“Yes.”

“How can a sleeping person answer?”

“Sleep talking?”

We both burst into laughter at the same time.

“Johann, what were you thinking about? Be honest.”

As a playful threat, I pushed him away, but Johann only tightened his embrace, pulling me deeper into his arms.

“Is my voice so boring that it makes you sleepy?”

Had he been silent because he was worried about that?

“Your voice isn’t boring; it’s soothing. Soft and sweet. Like a lullaby.”

I closed my eyes and pressed my ear against his chest, urging him.

“Say something, anything.”

Listening with my ear to his chest, I could hear the deep vibrations of his voice, making it even more soothing.

“What do you want to hear?”

Already, just hearing his voice felt wonderful. But it always ended too quickly. I wanted a long story.

“How about some Bible verses?”

The Bible is long and would make for a pleasant recital for Johann.

“How about…”

But Johann seemed reluctant, which was surprising.