He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, He has put eternity in their hearts, except that no one can find out the work that God does from beginning to end.
Ecclesiastes 3:11

Melchour
I quickly gathered the books from my desk and slid them back onto the shelf, each one slipping into place with a quiet thud. The anticipation of finally leaving for the day stirred within me. Ah, at last—time to go home.

I walked toward the gate with an unhurried haste, my eyes drawn to the fading light beyond the campus. Just as I neared the exit, a faint vibration against my leg caught my attention. My phone.

I slipped it from my pocket, the screen lighting up with a familiar name. Clara.

A soft breath escaped me, and almost without thinking, I answered.

"Hello?"

Her voice was hesitant on the other end, a delicate thread straining to hold itself together. "Oh, hello, Melchour. I—uhm—I'm sorry for calling like this. I just... I was wondering if I could come over to visit. If it's not too much trouble..."

I hesitated, surprise tightening my chest. Her voice sounded unsure, a fragile note weaving through her words. It had been months since I'd heard it like this.

"Oh," I began slowly, the memory of our last conversation rising unbidden. The way she'd shut me out, the silence that had followed. "Well... I suppose that's fine, if it's fine with you. But don't you have work today?"

"Yes, but... Rebeccah offered to cover for me for a while," she said, her voice trailing into quiet uncertainty.

"Alright then," I said gently. "Have a safe trip. Let me know when you arrive. I'll meet you at the terminal."

"Thank you, Melchour."

"Take care. Bye."

"Bye."

I ended the call and slipped the phone back into my pocket, a sigh easing from my lips.

"Well, that was unexpected," I murmured.

I stood there for a moment, letting the past rush in. Seven months. It had been seven long months since she'd left, since she'd said she couldn't be with someone like me—a man called to ministry, a life she didn't want to carry. I felt the familiar ache, the quiet echo of questions I still didn't have answers for. What did she want now?

⸻

I tapped a few words on my phone, asking where she was. The reply came a few minutes later—Clara, always quick with her phone.

She was nearby.

I glanced at the clock, then murmured to myself, "I should get going," and grabbed my jacket before heading out.

At the terminal, I didn't have to wait long. The bus arrived, and I spotted her as she stepped down, her figure familiar amidst the bustle of travelers.

She looked as I remembered—beautiful, her rounded eyes scanning the crowd until they found mine.

"Hey," I greeted quietly. "How was the trip?"

"It was alright, except the bus windows were awful. My hair flew everywhere," she said with a faint laugh.

I allowed a soft smile to lift my lips. "Good thing you didn't get blown away. You still look beautiful."

Her eyes met mine for a lingering moment. "Really, hmm, but I bet that wouldn't change anything between us, would it?"

I looked at her then, her words drawing a faint ache in my chest. Strands of her hair lifted in the breeze, brushing across her cheek. I felt the weight of what wasn't said, and what we both knew too well.

"Clara..." I said softly, the name catching slightly in my throat. I let out a quiet breath, steadying myself. "We've been through a lot together. And honestly, those days were precious to me. But as you said yourself once... I wasn't the right man for you."

Her head dipped, her shoulders tightening. "I know. I'm sorry. The words came out wrong. I didn't mean..." Her voice faded, her gaze falling.

A gentle ache stirred inside me, but I also felt the calm certainty that this was how it needed to be.

"Maybe..." I said quietly, "maybe God has already prepared a better man for you, Clara. Someone who can love you the way you deserve."

I met her gaze again, steady and sure. "And I pray he finds you soon."

Johanna

"Oh, come on, Anna, just this once? I don't know what's happened to you since you disappeared, but please! It's not like we're going to do drugs!" Mercy pleaded, tugging at my arm as she tried to pull me toward the bar we used to frequent.

"No, Mer! Seriously, I'm done with this. Please, just let me go," I begged, trying gently to pull free from her grasp.

"That's crazy! This isn't you. What happened to you?" she asked, her hand falling away, her eyes narrowing as she studied me.

"Do you really want to know?" I asked softly. She nodded, fixing her gaze on me with a quiet intensity.

I swallowed hard, searching for the right words. "God... um," I breathed in deeply, feeling the weight of the moment. "God came into my life," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her mouth dropped open in disbelief. My heart beat louder, a steady drum in my chest.

"Who came into your life?" she asked, tilting her head in confusion, her tone tinged with sarcasm. "You're kidding, right? You must've taken something. MJ? Really?" she laughed, the sound sharp, cutting. My heart sank, even though I'd half-expected her reaction.

"I'm serious, Mercy. This isn't a joke, and I'm not high," I said, lifting my hands slightly in protest.

"You're serious? You call this serious?" she snapped, her voice rising. "In just three days, you've turned into a religious freak?" Her words pierced me, sharper than I thought possible. I stood there, silent for a moment, not because I didn't know what to say, but because I hadn't realized how much her disbelief would hurt.

"Mercy... it's not religion," I said softly, voice trembling, "it's more like... a relationship. With God."

Mercy began to pace, frustration rolling off her in waves.

"You've got to be joking! You? You were the wild one, the one who swore she'd never bow to anyone—and now this?" she scoffed. "Let me give you a little advice: this 'relationship with God' thing? It's just putting chains on yourself. You're locking up the real you!"

Her words startled me, but I kept my eyes lowered, letting her frustration wash over me. How could she think this peace I'd found was a prison? I had never felt so free.

"Mercy," I whispered, "the real me was already trapped before—trapped by alcohol, by vices, by lies that told me I didn't need God. The real me was bound, imprisoned by sin. But now... now I finally feel free, Mercy."

Silence fell between us, heavy as the night around us. Even I was surprised by my own words. I only wanted her to understand, to see why I had changed, and I hoped—prayed—she might listen. But she just stood there, her eyes clouded with disappointment, before frustration boiled over into anger.

"You know what?" she said, stepping back, her voice sharp with hurt. "Whatever. Go home, go to church, wherever. You're not the Anna I knew." She turned away, her footsteps echoing on the pavement.

Pain gripped my heart as I watched her walk away, a hollow ache filling the space between us. I wanted to call after her, to chase her down and make her understand, but I knew it would only make things worse. I took a deep breath, fighting back the sting of tears, her words ringing in my ears.

Is this the price of following God?

Without knowing where I was going, I wandered on, her words a bitter echo in my mind.

Would I lose her forever? Oh God, please... make a way. I love her so much. How could I go on, knowing she's slipping further into the dark?

I whispered a prayer as I wiped a tear from my cheek. Lord, how can I make her understand? I can't change her heart—but You can. Just like You changed mine.

I lifted my eyes to the sky. The stars shimmered like scattered diamonds. I glanced at my phone. 10:30 p.m. How long had I been walking?

I crossed the road to the park, the streetlights casting long, soft shadows. As I reached the gates, I heard voices—familiar, growing louder.

I froze. I knew that voice.

My gaze darted around, and when I was sure, I ducked behind the gate, my heart tightening in fear. Who were those men? I shut my eyes, praying, Lord, please keep Mercy safe.

Gradually, the voices faded. I turned, heart still racing, only to find myself face-to-face with broad shoulders clothed in a familiar shirt.

I looked up, startled.

"Sir?"

He glanced at his watch, then at me.

"What are you doing here, Johanna?"