"SO," Lauren began, her voice smooth but heavy with undertones Zarinna could still recognize. "I see the rumors are true. You did move here to Mountain Province, Zarinna." She smiled, or at least tried to. "It's nice to see you again!"

Her eyes, though, betrayed the sweetness in her tone—carefully measuring, weighing the woman before her as though trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

"Indeed, Lauren..." Zarinna managed, forcing calm into her trembling voice. "I'm guessing you're here for the interview for guidance counselor applicants, right?"

"I am!" Lauren beamed, clasping her hands together with practiced enthusiasm. "And what about you? What are you doing here?"

Her gaze traveled from Zarinna's shoes to her hair, an unspoken prayer running through her mind—surely she's not an employee here... please, no.

"Ah, I teach here, Lauren."

The words landed like stones. Lauren's expression faltered for just a fraction of a second—long enough to reveal her disbelief. What?

"Oh," she breathed, recovering quickly. "I don't see you wearing the DepEd uniform. Since when?"

"Since June," Zarinna replied with a polite smile. "My uniform hasn't been sewn yet, that's why."

"Ah..." Lauren nodded absently.

"By the way," Zarinna continued, her tone brightening, "this is Gina Gacusan—one of the Math teachers here."

Lauren's lips curved again, the smile carefully arranged. She reached out, shaking the short-haired woman's outstretched hand.

"It's nice to meet you, Miss Lauren!" Gina said warmly.

"Nice to meet you too, Ma'am," Lauren replied, forcing air into her lungs before stepping back. "Well, I best be going now. I still have a lot of paperwork to finish."

"Alright, Lauren. Take care," Zarinna said softly.

"Have a wonderful day, Ma'am Gina," Lauren replied sweetly—then turned to Zarinna. "Zarinna."

Her tone flattened, her eyes sharp and unreadable. Zarinna only nodded, unwilling to feed the silent tension stretching between them.

Lauren turned on her heel and walked away, her steps quick and heavy. Each stride stoked the frustration twisting in her chest. Of all schools... why here?

A sigh tore from her lungs. She slowed, pressing a hand to her chest as if she could calm the turmoil inside. Lord, You have to help me, she prayed. Take this thing away.

ZARINNA quickened her pace as she reached the school gate, slipping into the guard's office to register her time-out. She had to get home early—papers waited for grading, her mind already crowded with the weight of tasks. She slung her bag onto the table, pulling her jacket closer as the mountain air began to chill.

Just as she stamped her time card, the door clicked open.

Her pulse spiked.

Lauren stepped in.

It had been a week since Zarinna learned that Lauren was officially accepted as the assistant guidance counselor. The discomfort that followed never left her—not once.

"Hi, Zarinna," Lauren greeted, her tone falsely bright.

"Hello," Zarinna replied, her voice steady but careful. "How was your day, Lauren?"

"It's been great! How about you?"

"Same goes for me. I'm glad you seem to have adjusted here so fast." Zarinna stepped aside, letting Lauren reach the timecards.

"Of course," Lauren said, flipping her card with a click. "I grew up here, after all. It's not much of a new thing for me."

"I see."

Silence wrapped around them as they walked out of the campus. The sound of their footsteps mingled with the whisper of pine needles, the faint hum of crickets in the distance.

Zarinna's heart sank with the memory. Ever since that day—since the confession—she could never look at Lauren the same way. Nor could Lauren look at her without that bitter edge of loathing. The air between them was thick, haunted by the memory of sin.

"So," Lauren's voice sliced through the quiet, forcing Zarinna back to the present. "How have you been, Zarinna?"

Zarinna turned to look at her. For a fleeting second, she saw the woman she used to know—soft features, graceful face, someone who once had her respect.

"I've been well," she said slowly. "What do you intend to know, exactly?"

Lauren gave a small laugh. "I don't mean to pry, really. I've honestly just been curious about..." She hesitated. "You know. You and him."

Zarinna's steps faltered. She dropped her gaze to the gravel path.

"Oh. That."

A breath caught in her chest. She didn't want to say it aloud—but she did anyway. "We've broken up. I came here. Haven't heard from him since."

"Really?"

Zarinna glanced up, surprised by the genuine note in Lauren's tone.

"Yes. I mean, he still texts me sometimes, but..."

"But?" Lauren pressed, a brow arching.

"I wouldn't know what to say anyway," Zarinna finished, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Ah."

Another silence. Only the rhythmic sound of their steps filled the space between them.

"Well, I'm glad it's over," Lauren said suddenly, her tone cutting sharper than intended. "I just hope... this is all true."

The words hit like a slap. Shame flared across Zarinna's chest. She lowered her head, the sting of guilt burning deep beneath her skin.

"Goodbye, Ma'am Zarinna," Lauren said briskly, walking ahead.

Zarinna stood still, watching her go.

She couldn't even be angry. Lauren had every right to doubt her—after everything. After all the damage she had caused.

All she could hope for now was that one day, people might see her heart again. That she truly regretted the past she'd left behind.

THE WOODEN DOOR creaked softly as Zarinna pushed it open, the familiar scent of old pews and candle wax filling her senses.

"Hello?" she called out, scanning the quiet church.

Empty.

She smiled faintly, walking toward the pulpit. From beneath it, she pulled the folder of song sheets for the day's worship. The guitar rested nearby, gleaming under the light filtering through the stained windows.

This—this was her peace.

She sat down, resting the instrument in her lap, and began to pluck the strings. Notes rippled through the silence, soft and clear as sunlight on water.

"Mountains are still being moved..." she sang, her voice rising with every word. "Strongholds are still being loosed..."

Her heart stirred as her song filled the empty hall.

"God, we believe it—'cause yes, we can see it... wonders are still what You do..."

She closed her eyes. Tears welled as the words became prayer. The Presence washed over her like fire and rain.

"We are here for You... come and do what You do..."

Every word tore something open inside her. All the guilt, the sorrow, the yearning—offered up to Heaven.

"We need a move..."

Her voice broke. Tears spilled freely now, but she didn't stop. For the first time in years, she felt whole again—like a lost child running into her Father's arms.

It had been so long since she'd felt Him like this. So long since His Presence had come this close.

Deprivation draws out desire.

"I give You praise..." she whispered, trembling. "Oh, I give You praise, Jesus..."

A loud thud broke her trance.

Zarinna startled, nearly dropping her guitar.

At the door stood David, helmet in hand, looking sheepish.

"I'm so sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to interrupt. My helmet—uh, it slipped."

"Oh," Zarinna breathed, wiping at her tears. "I-it's okay, Pastor. I was just... singing."

Her cheeks burned. I knew something like this would happen.

David smiled faintly. "Singing very intimately, I must add. The Presence of God is so thick in here."

"Really?" Zarinna asked, blinking. "I thought... it was just me."

"Anyone would sense it," he said simply, sitting down in one of the pews.

"Wow," she whispered. "God is good indeed."

"You have quite the anointed voice, Zarinna," David said after a pause. "Why don't you lead worship?"

Zarinna froze, blinking at him. "Well... I've been asked before, but... I didn't feel ready."

"Oh? What do you mean?"

"I..." She hesitated, words catching in her throat. "It's a long story, Pastor. Maybe not this time."

"I understand," David said gently. "But what about now? Do you feel any different?"

Silence filled the room.

"I haven't thought about it," she said softly. "But after tonight... maybe I will."

"Yeah," David smiled. "You should."

He couldn't stop watching her. The way the light touched her face, the quiet strength in her eyes. There was something radiant about her—something sacred. Anointed women did glow differently.

"Pastor?"

He blinked, caught off guard.

"Do I have something on my face?" she asked, confused.

"Oh—nothing," he chuckled. "Nothing at all."

"Ah," she nodded, relieved, and began uncovering the instruments around the altar.

"These woven fabrics are beautiful, aren't they, Pastor?" she said.

"Yes," he replied. "My grandmother loves making them."

Zarinna paused mid-fold. "Your grandmother?"

"Yes, why?"

"You mean... Allapo Lumnay is your grandmother?"

David laughed. "Uh-huh. Why?"

"Oh!" Zarinna exclaimed. "I remember Gina mentioning her grandson—a pastor here. So that's you!"

"That's me," David said with a grin. "Why the sudden interest in Allapo?"

"Well," Zarinna began, her eyes brightening, "I've always wanted to learn weaving. It's been my dream since high school. I was just too shy to ask her."

"That's not a problem," David said easily. "I can introduce you to her."

"Really, Pastor? Thank you!" Zarinna beamed, the joy in her face lighting the dim sanctuary.

"Yeah," David said, smiling back. "If you're free this afternoon, come with me to her house. I think she'd be thrilled to teach you."

Zarinna pressed a hand to her chest, eyes shimmering. "I'd love that."