Falling for the Goddess

May the Divine Watch Over Those He Loves: A Life of Joy, Peace, and Serenity

Sara Hart and Adrian Blake stayed in South City for a few more days, soaking in the gentle rhythm of the old town.

Each morning, hand in hand, they would walk through narrow stone-paved alleys bathed in morning sunlight, winding past old houses and tiny courtyards to find their favorite breakfast spot—a tiny noodle shop that locals swore by.

Afternoons were spent lazily lounging on the wooden rocking chairs in Sara's family courtyard, sun warming their faces, books in hand, talking about anything or nothing at all.

Sometimes, they'd stop by Aunt Tong's embroidery studio to browse her intricate handwork and join her family for a quiet home-cooked dinner filled with warmth and laughter.

As evening fell, they would stroll slowly along the riverside, watching the glow of sunset reflect on the water. The breeze carried the scent of cooked rice and sweet osmanthus. Life in South City was made of these small, ordinary, beautiful things—fragments of peace that left a lasting sweetness in the heart.

A Visit to Westhill Temple

The day before they were due to return to North Capital, Sara took Adrian to Westhill Temple, a place known for its spiritual power and answered prayers.

Built halfway up a mountain, the temple was revered and always bustling with believers and seekers alike.

By the time they reached the mountain gate, they'd already been hiking for over thirty minutes. Adrian gently wiped the sweat from Sara's brow and asked softly,

"You used to come here alone every year?"

Sara nodded.

"Mm. I come to offer incense and light a prayer lamp for my grandmother. It's a little tradition I keep."

The temple's name—Westhill Temple—was carved into a massive stone arch in bold calligraphy, exuding a sense of gravity and solemnity.

Inside, the temple grounds were vast and peaceful, with towering ancient trees, layers of silent prayer halls, and yellow walls partially hidden beneath climbing ivy. Everything was shrouded in quiet reverence.

As they approached the main hall, they were greeted by rising incense smoke and the deep, echoing sound of the temple bell. Pilgrims moved with quiet devotion, offering their prayers.

Adrian had never been a believer. Everything he had in life, he'd earned through grit and willpower. He never asked the divine for anything.

But here, in the middle of it all, watching the sincerity etched into the faces around him, even he felt something shift.

Sara first visited a side hall, where she made her offerings for her grandmother and lit the remembrance lamp. She then donated incense money before walking to the shade of a large tree nearby. She turned to Adrian.

"Do you think all this is too... wishful?" she asked.

Adrian shook his head.

"No. Praying for your loved ones is a sacred thing."

The monks in the great hall had begun chanting—their voices distant yet powerful, weaving into the air like something ancient.

Sara's voice dropped, gentle and warm:

"When I come here, I like to sit and watch people come and go. Everyone has something they carry. Listening to the chants... it brings peace."

"At noon, I'll have a bowl of temple noodles. Then I feed the doves by the pond behind the hall and play with the temple cats."

"I never ask the gods for wealth or fame. I only ever ask them to protect the people I love. To keep them safe, happy, and free from worry."

Adrian stared at her, quiet, watching the way the sunlight filtered through her lashes. Her heart was soft and luminous, like porcelain—resilient, yet gentle.

Suddenly, Sara smiled and said,

"I want to go somewhere for a bit. Will you wait for me?"

Adrian didn't ask where. He simply nodded.

As she disappeared into the temple, he remained behind, gazing up at the ancient tree beside him. Red prayer ribbons fluttered in the wind, each one a hope, a wish.

He thought about something he'd read online before their trip—about the prayer charms here at Westhill Temple. And after a moment's hesitation, he turned and walked away, too.

Almost at the same time, the two returned to the spot beneath the tree.

Sara smiled.

"I have something for you."

"Me too," Adrian replied.

They both held out their hands.

Nestled in their palms were two identical prayer charms—small red fabric triangles, tied neatly, holding within them their most heartfelt wishes.

Sara took the one in Adrian's hand. Unfolding the tiny yellow paper tucked inside, she saw four words written in Adrian's neat handwriting:
Joy. Peace. Always.

Her lips trembled. Her eyes lifted to him with quiet surprise.

"But... I thought you didn't believe in this."

Adrian's voice was steady, his gaze unwavering.

"I don't. But for you, I'm willing to believe—just this once."

"I may not have faith in gods or fate. But if they do exist... I'd kneel before them for you. I'd ask them to protect you. To give you a life full of joy, without sorrow or pain."

Sara's eyes shimmered, her fingertips shaking slightly. She knew what it meant for him to do this. It wasn't just a charm. It was a promise—a surrender of ego for love.

That was Adrian.

Adrian, who would bend only for her. But she couldn't bear for him to lower himself, not even a little.

As if sensing her thoughts, Adrian reached for the charm she had given him, wrapped his fingers around hers, and leaned in to kiss her gently on the forehead.

"What you'd do for me," he whispered, "I'd do for you, too. Always."

"It's nothing at all."

Sara once told him that he was her god—her only faith.

But only Adrian knew the truth: he was just a man. Flawed, wounded, broken in places no one could see.

And she... she was the miracle. The divine light that descended from the heavens, reaching into the ruins of his life and giving him something worth believing in.

Love.

The End.