what they called sin | Meichae

Megan stopped believing in God the same year she realized she was in love with Yoonchae.

It was easier that way. Easier to call herself a sinner before anybody else could. Easier to pretend she didn't care about heaven when every sermon she'd ever heard told her girls like her would never see it.

While Yoonchae still bowed her head during prayer and underlined verses in the margins of her Bible,

Megan learned to live with guilt like it belonged inside her.

But loving Yoonchae was never dirty in the way the church promised it would be. It was soft. Familiar. Sacred, almost. And that was the worst part.

Because Yoonchae still believed.
Still believed in God. In goodness. In doing the right thing.

So every lingering touch feels like a confession. Every almost-kiss becomes something Yoonchae prays to forget and Megan secretly aches to remember.

Caught between devotion and desire, the two girls spend years orbiting a love neither of them were raised to survive.

one trying to be "saved", and the other already convinced she's beyond it.