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"It wasn’t supposed to matter".

That was the lie I told myself as I stood near the chapel steps, laughing at something Benjamin had just said.

Benjamin is a bit older than I.

Fine art student. Quite handsome and charming. Recently returned from Milan.

His mother had practically shoved him into church activities after deciding he needed “spiritual grounding.”

Which meant he had been assigned to assist with youth outreach.

Which meant he now stood very close to me.

“I’m serious,” he said, smiling down at me. “If you keep organizing hymnals this precisely, the Vatican will recruit you.”

I laughed.

And this time, I didn’t restrain it.

I let it be easy and light;

Because for the first time in weeks, I was tired of feeling heavy.

Tired of sermons that felt like warnings.

Tired of being watched and avoided in the same breath.

If Father Matteo wanted distance, I would live in it comfortably.

Benjamin leaned casually against the stone pillar beside me. “Have you’ve known Father Matteo long?”

The name landed between us.

I kept my tone neutral. “He grew up in Rome. Everyone knows everyone.”

“Ah,” Benjamin nodded. “He seems intense.”

That made my lips twitch.

“You have no idea.”

And that was when I felt it.

A major shift.

The subtle silence behind me.

I didn’t turn immediately.

I didn’t need to.

The temperature had changed.

Benjamin’s posture straightened slightly. “Father.”

I turned slowly.

Matteo stood a few feet away.

He had approached quietly;

But his eyes were not calm.

His eyes moved from Benjamin’s hand resting too close to my elbow and landed on my face, then back to Benjamin

“Good afternoon,” he said evenly.

“Father,” Benjamin replied respectfully. “We were just discussing the youth outreach schedule.”

“Were you?” Matteo asked.

Quite polite, but there was something beneath it.

A tightness.

“Yes,” I said smoothly. “Benjamin thinks we should modernize the approach.”

“And you agree?” Matteo’s gaze shifted sharply to me.

“I think innovation isn’t a sin,” I replied.

Benjamin chuckled lightly.

Matteo didn’t.

The silence stretched a little, it seemed a bit dramatic but not explosive.

But it was thick.

“I’ll need the finalized schedule by tomorrow,” Matteo said to Benjamin.

“Of course, Father.”

“And Elena,” he added.

My name felt different on his tongue today.

“Yes?”

He hesitated;

Just slightly;

Then, “I would appreciate it if meetings were held in the parish office rather than outside.”

There it was.

Controlled.

But pointed.

Benjamin blinked. “We were just—”

“I’m aware,” Matteo cut in calmly. “Still, appearances matter.”

"Appearances".

My right brow raised slightly.

“Of course, Father,” I said, holding his gaze.

A beat passed.

Then another.

He nodded once and walked away.

But his stride was sharper than usual.

Benjamin exhaled quietly. “Did I do something wrong?”

I watched Matteo disappear through the church doors.

“No,” I murmured.

You didn’t.

One could see the slight puzzle on Benjamin’s face as he walked out a bit embarrassed.

That evening, I stayed later than necessary.

Not for anyone;

For myself.

The church was quieter now. Candles flickered softly along the side altar. The scent of incense still holding on to the air.

I knelt, tried to pray but failed because I could still see the way Matteo’s jaw tightened.

The way his voice hardened.

He had no claim over me.

None.

And yet—

He had reacted.

I heard footsteps behind me.

I didn’t turn.

“Church is closing soon,” his voice said softly.

I rose slowly and faced him.

The lighting was dimmer now. Warmer. It softened his features.

But not his expression.

“I didn’t realize I was going against regulations,” I said quietly.

“You weren’t.”

He inhaled slowly.

“Elena… proximity invites speculation.”

“From who?” I asked. “The elderly women who already speculate about everything?”

His eyes flickered.

“This isn’t amusing.”

“I’m not amused.”

The silence shifted.

“Why does it matter?” I asked carefully.

His gaze sharpened.

“It matters because I am responsible for this parish.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

He knew that.

And that’s when it happened.

The crack.

“Benjamin is not discreet,” he said, too quickly.

My brows lifted slightly.

“Discreet?”

“Yes.”

“In what way?”

“He—” Matteo stopped himself.

The restraint snapped back into place almost instantly.

“It is not appropriate for you to encourage familiarity.”

Encourage.

The word irritated me.

“I was laughing,” I said calmly. “Is that forbidden now?”

His jaw tightened.

“This isn’t about laughter.”

“No?” I stepped closer. Not enough to touch. Just enough to show him my boldness.

“Then what is it about?”

The space between us throbbed.

He held my gaze.

Longer than safe.

“It is about boundaries,” he said finally.

“Yours?” I asked softly.

Or mine?

He exhaled sharply.

“You are aware of what you are doing.”

There it was.

Not innocent.

Not naive.

Aware.

“Yes,” I said quietly.

His breath faltered.

“You shouldn’t test me Elena.”

The words came low.

Unplanned.

Honest.

The church seemed to tilt.

“Test you?” I repeated.

He stepped back immediately, as if realizing he had said too much.

“This conversation is inappropriate.”

“You started it.”

His composure reassembled piece by piece.

“You will conduct meetings inside,” he said firmly. “That is all.”

He turned to leave.

And something reckless in me refused to let him retreat that easily.

“Father.”

He stopped.

But didn’t turn.

“If it doesn’t matter,” I said gently, “why did you notice?”

Silence hovered a little while;

His shoulders stiffened.

Then, without looking at me—

“Because I am not blind; He replied and walked away.

I stood there long after the doors closed.

Because now I knew.

This wasn’t imagination.

It wasn’t one-sided.

It wasn’t spiritual projection.

He had felt it.

He had reacted to it.

And jealousy?

Jealousy always has a helpless side it's trying to hide.

I overthought the scenarios until I got home, I kept trying to fix the puzzle, one minute I'm thinking I might have been reading too much meaning into his reaction, the next minute I'm holding on and linking his reactions to jealousy.