ARYA’S POVThe first time I stepped into the confessional, I told myself I was there for ordinary sins. Impatience. Envy. The occasional lie that slipped too easily from my tongue. I even rehearsed them as I walked down the aisle, my heels hitting against the polished floor, and my pulse calm. The church was nearly empty. Late afternoon light spilled through the stained glass and painted the pews in diluted blues and reds. I dipped my fingers into the holy water, crossed myself, and knelt. The confessional booth waited ahead. I slipped inside and shut the door, and the air changed. It felt smaller, heavier and the scent of old wood and incense wrapped around me. I knelt on the thin cushion and folded my hands, but they would not stay still. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” I began. My voice sounded different in the dark, softer and calm, nothing like the storm inside me. “It has been three weeks since my last confession.” On the other side of the
Last Updated : 2026-02-16 Read more