Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Reverend And His Plaything : Kabanata 91 - Kabanata 100

Mia.I woke up to a throbbing pain in my head. The meds Grandma had given me the night before hadn’t touched it at all. If anything, the ache had settled deeper, sharper, like it had roots now. My whole body felt heavy and sore, a dull fire rolling through every muscle and joint, making even the simple act of breathing feel like work.I wasn’t even sure what was happening to me anymore. I’d told myself it was just the final college exams—the late nights, the stress, the pressure of finishing everything. But it didn’t feel like that now. It felt bigger. Heavier. Something I couldn’t name.“Mia…” Grandma’s voice came soft through the door before she pushed it open and stepped inside.“You’re awake now,” she said, crossing the room to sit on the edge of my bed.I rubbed the last of the sleep from my eyes and pushed myself up to sit. “Yeah… I woke up a few minutes ago,” I told her.She studied my face, concern creasing her forehead. “How about the fever? Has it gone down? Looking at you,

Thorne.The morning Mass today felt like a strain in my throat. It was as if I were doing it for the first time—standing at the altar, committing myself to a place that had always felt like my own, my rightful space. I knew the parishioners had noticed something off. The people of San Malerio were too observant, too quick to sense when their priest wasn’t fully present. I could feel their eyes lingering during the homily, during the consecration, during the final blessing. They would have wanted to ask afterward—about my mood, about a line in the sermon that didn’t land quite right, about anything at all. But I walked back to the rectory as fast as my legs could carry me, avoiding every conversation, every concerned glance.I reached my room and called Mia again—for what felt like the hundredth time since dawn. The line either connected and rang endlessly without an answer, or it went straight to unavailable. I hated it. Every bone in my body cracked with frustratio

Thorne.What was I going to say?I had always known what to say in difficult situations. Very difficult situations. Couples would come to me when the wife didn’t want another child while the husband longed for one, or even many. I would sit with them in the small counseling room, listen to their pain, their anger, their fear, and offer words that felt solid, words drawn from Scripture and years of hearing broken hearts. I could speak with calm certainty about sacrifice, about timing, about trusting God’s plan even when it hurt. But those were other people’s lives. Not mine.I was a priest meant to abstain from sex. Meant to commit every waking moment to God, to the Church, to the people who looked to me for guidance. And right now I stood in my own room with no words forming, no ready scripture, no practiced counsel. Mia stood in front of me, clutching the bottle of Scotch she had taken from my hand, the other wiping tears that kept falling no matter how fast she bru

Mia.“Where the hell did you go to, huh!?” Mom’s voice sliced through my skull like a banshee the second she stepped through the door of the kitchen.Thorne had dropped me off a few minutes away from the house, just like we’d agreed, close enough to walk the rest of the way without anyone seeing his car.I hadn’t really been listening to him on the drive back.My mind was still spinning, stuck on the hospital, the test results, the wayGrandma’s hand had trembled when she touched my forehead, the way Mom’s questions had kept circling like vultures.I went straight to the kitchen to grab some fruit, my appetite had been shot for days, but I needed something in my stomach before I passed out.I was peeling an orange when Mom stormed in behind me.I turned slowly, rubbing my hand through my still-damp hair.“I went out,” I said, keeping my voice as level as I could manage. “I told you, I needed to think, okay?”“What did you need to think about?” she yelled, stepping closer. “About the g

Mia.My mother had completely lost her mind.She stood there in Grandma’s living room like some righteous storm.Her eyes wild, voice rising and falling in ugly waves. How dare she? She had no right to dictate my life—who I could love, who I could fuck, what I could keep growing inside me. This baby wasn’t hers to erase. And Thorne… God, Thorne wasn’t hers to dismiss like some dirty secret.He’d left earlier at Grandma’s quiet request, giving us space to “think.” But Mom hadn’t stopped. She kept circling back to the same poison, whispering it into Grandma’s ear until the old woman finally snapped.“Rose, stop this nonsense!” Grandma’s voice cracked through the room, sharp and tired. “You can’t keep pushing that. You’re only making everything messier than it already is.”“That’s exactly my point, Mom,” Rose shot back, leaning closer, desperate. “The only clean way out is if Mia gets rid of it. One quick flight back to London, a simple procedure, and none of this ever happened.