ANMELDEN2Eva.Monday came faster than I expected, and it wasn’t until I stood in the elevator clutching my new employee badge that I realized just how real this was. My reflection in the mirrored doors looked like a version of myself I didn’t recognize—hair smooth, lips bitten pink, blouse tucked in too tight. I tried not to think about what had happened on that desk three nights ago, but every nerve ending seemed to remember.I stepped onto the tenth floor and found the office already buzzing. People moved fast here—sharp shoes, sharper voices, everyone pretending not to notice the new girl. I kept my head down and checked my phone: no messages, just the last text from Julian, simple and unreadable—Monday. Don’t be late.I was twenty minutes early, not because I wanted to impress him, but because I was terrified of making the same mistake twice. The receptionist—Lila, she told me—greeted me with a faint, knowing smile, like she knew something I didn’t. Maybe she did.Julian’s office door was
1Eva.I was late. Not fashionably, not excusably—late-late.I burst through the glass doors of Hayes & Rowe with my heart in my throat, hair damp against my neck, and my heels clicking a staccato rhythm that only reminded me how out of place I felt. Three missed calls blinked on my phone. One from the agency, two from an unknown number.I knew it was over before it started, but I was here anyway, praying the universe might grant me one ounce of mercy.The receptionist gave me that look. Pity mixed with a pinch of glee, as if she’d been waiting for someone to mess up just so she could witness the aftermath.“Eva Carter for Mr. Hayes,” I managed, breathless.She pressed a button, her eyes sharp as she watched me struggle to smooth my blouse and tame the flyaways around my face.“He’s waiting,” she said.I nodded, swallowed, and walked down a corridor that felt a hundred miles long.The door was open, just enough for me to glimpse the man inside. He didn’t look up when I knocked.He was
1Amelia.The church was packed.Word spreads quickly when there’s scandal to witness, and Sunday morning felt more like a trial than a service. The women’s stares were sharper, whispers fluttering like moths behind veiled hands. My mother’s face was stone. My father’s jaw was set, his Bible clenched so tightly the pages bent.And Nathan—he stood at the front of the choir, expression carefully blank, every muscle in his body strung tight, like a man about to walk into the fire.I’d thought shame would swallow me. Instead, I felt untouchable.Something had cracked open inside me in that bell tower—fear burned away by the wild, desperate way he’d held me, by the way I’d screamed his name to the sky.Now all I wanted was to live in the light, unafraid, to let the world see exactly who I’d become.My father’s sermon was short. His eyes never left me. “The wages of sin is death,” he said, voice trembling. “But there is resurrection for those who seek the truth.”I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t
9Amelia.The air in our house felt poisoned and thick with secrets.For days I’d sensed it brewing. The looks had worsened at church. And now there was the stiff silence from my mother, the way my father’s hand hovered over my shoulder but never quite touched. I tried to pretend I was the same daughter I’d always been, but my body gave me away: I flinched when anyone brushed too close, my eyes darting to doors and windows, always watching for Nathan, always afraid someone else was too.I heard the news before I saw it—the rumors flaring hotter than ever, someone had seen us in the office, or thought they had, and tongues were wagging like banners in a storm. My phone vibrated with frantic texts from choir girls, a message from my mother that was just a single, breathless question: Is there something I need to know?My father found me in the kitchen, the late sun slanting gold through the window, making everything too bright, too sharp.“Amelia.” He said my name gently, but there was n
Amelia.I used to think the church was the safest place in the world. Now, it’s the only place I ever feel in danger; real danger, the kind that isn’t about God or hellfire, but the risk of losing everything for one more taste of Nathan Carter.Rumors were wildfire, burning up pews and hallways, lapping at the heels of everyone who whispered my name. I felt them everywhere I went, crawling over my skin, making me flinch when a door slammed, making me sweat every time my father glanced at me a little too long. It was like being watched by a thousand eyes and knowing not a single one of them would blink if you burned.Nathan tried to keep his distance, tried to be cold, but the tension only grew tighter every day. It was in every brush of our hands, every glance that lingered too long. In the way we both flinched when my father’s footsteps echoed down the hall.We both knew it was only a matter of time before someone caught us.I was filing music sheets in the church office—my father’s
7Amelia.Rumors move faster than prayer in our church.At first, it was only a look, a whispered laugh that sounded too intimate. The way Nathan’s hand lingered a second too long on my back as I passed him the hymnal, the way I blushed every time he called my name in rehearsal. The women in the congregation started watching me too closely, never blinking. I tried to play innocent, but even I could feel the cracks.My father watched, too. I caught him staring at me across the dinner table, his eyes narrowed, searching for a secret. He started coming to choir practice, standing in the back, arms folded, gaze heavy on both of us. Nathan noticed. I saw it in the way his jaw clenched, in the way he kept his distance, barely looking at me, barely speaking, like I was some sickness he could pray out of his system.The worst part was how much it hurt. He wouldn’t touch me. Wouldn’t even let our hands brush. In the quiet after rehearsal, he rushed through his notes, never asking me to stay, hi
3Amelia.You never forget what holy water feels like, even as an adult. The chill, the weight, the way it seeps through thin cotton and clings to every inch of skin. I’d been baptized as a baby, but this was different. This was a spectacle.I tried not to shiver as I stood at the edge of the bapti
9Tessa.Secrets don’t stay secret forever. I’ve known it since the first time Liam kissed me, since the first time I let him slip into my bed and my body and my life. I told myself we were careful. But danger has a scent, and lately, it feels like everyone is catching on.We’re at the kitchen table
5Tessa.The house feels empty in a way that should be peaceful, but it isn’t. It’s Friday night and Mom’s voice still rings in my ears—her cheerful “We’ll be back late! Don’t wait up!” as she bustled out the door with my stepdad for their first real date night in months. I should be glad for the s
6Mara. I wish I could say I planned tonight. I wish I could say I walked into the church with a strategy, a speech, something smooth and foolproof tucked under my tongue. But the truth is, I’m running on adrenaline and sleeplessness, and the ache between my legs that no amount of midnight touchin







