What if the saints of old walked among us today-would we honor their triumphs, or whisper about their secrets?
Zarinna knows the weight of hidden truths. Once devoted, now marked by choices she cannot undo, she carries shame like a shadow she cannot...
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Discomfort gripped Lauren's heart like a cold, unyielding hand. She could not bring herself to lift her eyes toward the altar; instead, she kept her gaze fixed firmly on the polished floor, tracing the shadows cast by the soft morning light. She knew unforgiveness and hatred were sins, yet the very idea of surrendering fully felt impossible—especially with Zarinna nearby. The fact that she saw the woman again, here in a sanctuary, only sharpened the sting of her resentment. Lauren exhaled a silent, almost strangled groan as the words of worship floated through the air, carried by a voice she could not mistake. That voice—so praised by her churchmates back in Baguio City, so angelic and anointed—was also the voice of an adulterer. How dare she step onto this sacred altar, pretending to serve?
Lauren let out a weary sigh as Pastor Nestor began to close the service in prayer, thankful that the intoxicating voice had finally fallen silent.
But the prayer offered no solace. Her mind refused to settle; it churned restlessly with frustration and confusion. She had never understood why she disliked Zarinna so instinctively. Ever since their first meeting, something about her had triggered a deep-seated unease. Lauren resisted the thought of envy. She hadn't envied the woman, had she? She shook the idea away like dust from her sleeve. Perhaps it had always been discernment, the subtle whisper of the Holy Spirit guiding her heart. Perhaps the Spirit had warned her, long before the scandal, that Zarinna would stumble into sin—a sin so shameful it stained the air around her even now.
She did not presume herself blameless. Lauren knew her own soul was not pure; she, too, was a sinner. And yet, in a quiet, trembling corner of her heart, she felt relief—thankfulness that she was not as sinful as... her.
At last, the service ended. Lauren shook off the oppressive thoughts like brittle leaves in the wind, casting her gaze across the pews until she spotted David. A smile tugged at her lips, gentle and unrestrained. The man never failed to inspire awe—he preached with a power and grace that seemed to descend from heaven itself. And it warmed her heart all the more that he had been her close companion since childhood.
"David!" she called, her voice brightening. His head turned, and the instant recognition in his eyes drew him to her with effortless ease. How she adored that smile, how the dimples deepened as his lips curved upward. Memories of afternoons spent swimming in the river after school, laughing until their sides ached, came rushing back—a tapestry of her happiest days, stitched with the golden threads of youth.
"Hey!" he grinned, draping an arm around her shoulders with casual warmth. "You came!"
"Of course!" Lauren murmured, lowering her gaze, hoping to disguise the blush that rose unbidden. "I was devastated when I heard our old church had burned down again. Thank God we were able to rebuild—and with new members too!"
"You're right," David said, nodding, eyes sparkling. "And I am so glad you're finally back. When I heard you were hired at BNHS, I nearly danced!"
Lauren's lips curved in a small, proud smile. "I really wanted to return home after graduation," she admitted. "I wanted to bless our community, to give back what God has given me." She hesitated briefly, then added, "So... what are you doing this afternoon? Would you like to come to our house for lunch? Mamma's sure to miss you."
