I Have A Confession, Father II

HIS voice was rough when it finally came.

“I’m not asking you to leave.”

She exhaled, shaky and relieved.

Their foreheads nearly touched.

A heartbeat.

Two.

Then he whispered, raw:

“What happens next… we cannot undo.”

Her thumb traced his knuckles in silent answer.

“I don’t want to undo it.”

The last thing he saw before his restraint frayed entirely was the look in her eyes— devotion, desire, ache.

Then he leaned in. Very slowly. Every ...