They were high school sweethearts, bound by promises made too young to understand how fragile they were. On the day she was leaving for college, she stayed at his house one last time. While he is cooking in the kitchen, she found a paper left behind in the living room, an application form to the seminary. She did not ask. He did not explain. And in that silence, she decided to leave with a heart already breaking. Distance did the rest. Their long-distance love faded quietly, without blame or closure, until even memories learned how to stop reaching out. Five years later, she saw him again, inside a church, wearing a white sotana looking so at peace.