“I have strong feelings for you, Susan. Since the moment we met, you’ve been incredibly special to me,” I confessed. “But it was last month, during that trip with the youth group, when I knew for sure. When I woke up after passing out, you were there beside me, watching over me with such care.”
“Susan, you can’t deny the connection between us,” I insisted, feeling a surge of frustration. “We both have feelings for other people, yes, but what we shared was real. You even admitted it yourself. Why can’t you acknowledge that?”
“Evans, please, just go,” she pleaded, tears streaming down her face as she folded her arms, avoiding my gaze.
“Fine, Susan. But this doesn’t change how I feel,” I said firmly, lifting her chin gently to meet my eyes before placing a tender kiss on her forehead.
As I left, confusion and hurt swirled in my mind. I had poured my heart out, only to be rejected. The thought of being with anyone else paled in comparison to Susan. Faith, with all her qualities, couldn’t evoke the same feelings.
Arriving home, I dodged my parents’ questions and retreated to my room, grappling with the shattered possibilities.
The next morning, a text from Susan suggested keeping our distance at church for a while. I sighed, resigned to the ache in my heart, and headed to church. Seeing her there, dressed modestly for the first time since our encounter, brought little solace.
During the service, I anticipated her departure to help with the children’s snacks and intercepted her in the lobby.
“Evans!” she exclaimed, surprised. “Did you get my message?”
“I did, and I want to talk,” I said, guiding her to a secluded area on the first floor.
As we settled in the quiet space, she spoke softly, expressing her regret and insisting that our night together was a one-time mistake. Her words stung, and I struggled to accept the sudden distance she wanted to maintain.
To be continued next Monday…
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