"I don't know what to do," I confessed.

         My mother sat beside me as I did the washing, her chin resting on her knuckles.

         "You're in quite a spot, aren't you?" She giggled.

         "A prince," I scowled, "of all guys that I could've stumbled across," I shook my head. Throwing another pair of leggings over the washing line. My mother watched quietly. Then she sighed.

         "Sofia... I know you were hoping that you and Alek might be able to make up but..."

         I froze. Alek. I didn't want to think about Alek. But I wanted to think about him as well. Shoot. Now I was thinking about him. I was thinking about him as he brushed his fingers across my cheek to pull back the hair behind my ear. The first kiss he'd given me on the final night he'd left. The way that he'd suddenly shut down and told me it would never work. That he was leaving. That this would hurt us both. Two years later I was still thinking of him.

         I'd moved on, I'd told myself. I needed to be my own person and focus on the now. Not what could've been.

         Yet sometimes I couldn't help myself. When a couple walked together on the street. When I sat at dinner with my family. When a family passed all together. The little moments where I was alone and wanted someone by my side, I remembered. Alek had traded my first kiss for a broken heart.

         "This is something that's entirely up to you," My mother concluded, a weathered smile upon her face, "just know that we'll be okay, you still need to live a life sometime,"

         I scoffed, "I thought you were all about waiting for a husband to go on adventures with!"

         There was a little twinkle in my mother's eye as she stopped herself from saying something. Instead, she took in a deep breath.

         "Consider the pros and cons carefully, don't be afraid to ask for a probation period to think about it,"

         I nodded, "Okay," my throat felt sore and my nose itched a little too often. We hadn't really address how long or far I'd be away for. I cleared my throat, "I'm not sure of what to wear for tonight,"

         My mother grinned, "I was sure you'd never ask,"

         A little later, in the early dusk, I found myself wandering the streets of my suburb towards the local church. Stretching into the sky, it was a network of yellow brick in a gothic-style. It'd taken over five years to fully construct but the little beloved art piece was close to the heart of the community. People took pride in their churches in Ardeena and this was one of them.

         I pressed open one of the double doors, a flood of childhood memories hitting me. The saccharine scent of roses. The way the light drifted through, almost fully illuminating the missing congregation. The low chatter of the men's group and the sound of deaconesses preparing for Sunday's lunch in the kitchen.

         I made my way down the aisle, pausing at the steps of the sanctuary; an elevated area for the pastor to speak, and for the rites to take place. To the side, sat a table with a cloth over it. A dedication must've just occurred. I concluded.

         The ground was cool underneath my shins as I kneeled. In front of me, stretching up the wall was an epic marble sculpture of Christ upon the cross. His face wretched in eternal pain as a mosaic of angels and saints surrounded Him, withheld from intervening.

         "Dear Heavenly Father," I began, clasping my hands and resting my elbows on the first of the steps. I took in a deep breath and sighed. My mind instantly distracted by the anguish on Jesus' face. I opened my prayer the same way I had a few times, "I hope you don't mind us using that moment, it's probably really traumatic for you. Actually, you're God, I don't know if that works like that,"

         This prayer is a mess, a part of me snorted.

         Let's start this again.

         "I'm here today for guidance. I'm supposed to be diligent and stay with my parents but... There's a fantastic job opportunity that would be able to help my family. I just, have to leave for what might be an indefinite amount of time. It could put me in..." My cheeks flushed, thinking about how Cas' knee brushed against mine, "compromising situations. I just, don't know,"

         My chest was tight and my head heavy in my hands. I don't know.

         I took in a deep breath.

         "If you could, provide guidance for that, that would be nice thank you. In Your Holy name, Amen,"

         I need more elegant prayers, I sighed, standing. I turned to see Pastor Palmer. Partially in his formal wear, Ps Palmer was in his late forties. Sixteen years ago, he'd arrived in Ardeena as a support for the Chesno Crisis. Consistently working towards providing weekly support for men and women of all ages. He'd started men's groups and accountability partnerships as well as women's charities and family support with his wife and many children. There wasn't a bad thing to be said against Ps Palmer, except maybe that sometimes he skipped on the rigorous diet his wife insisted on. Despite his British background, him and his family were now more than welcome within the community.

         "Sofia!" He called, grinning warmly, "glad to see you around!" He stopped a pew away, gathering a spray of flyers.

         "Ah well, needed some consultation with the Lord,"

         "Great to hear! But never feel like you have to come into the house to pray,"

         "Of course," I smiled gently, "though there are some places designed specifically for special things,"

         "True to that," He chuckled, "anything bothering you?"

         "I-uh," How do I explain this. That the attacker who ran into me in my backyard and left his phone is actually a prince that I think I might like and now he's offered me a job to travel the country with him, "I got a job offer that will take me far from home. It's just a big decision in a season where I thought I would be looking for a spouse,"

         Ps Palmer nodded understandingly. "Is there anything else that holds you back?"

         "Well," I sighed, "my Mum's still healing and she needs someone to help her and my siblings will need help when they go back to school and I'm worried about the distance and-,"

         I stopped.

         "I don't know, there's just a lot to consider,"

         "That's understandable," Ps Palmer nodded, "have you talked about this with your mother?"

         "Yeah,"

         "And did she say?"

         "To not worry about her,"

         "So will you?"

         "Yes,"

         Ps Palmer chuckled, shaking his head. "My advice. Ask yourself, who are they? Who are you working for? Does it glorify God? If they are a good, serving person then I'd have no qualms about working for them. Working for a cause will help you get through the more, mediocre days,"

         "Ps Palmer?" One of the elderly deaconesses called from the other side of the church. Ps Palmer turned, "Lena is on the phone, they need you,"

         Ps Palmer turned back to me, a small smile, "Duty calls. Remember what we talked about, some places are designed for specific things, maybe this move in your next season is intentional,"

         I nodded, "Thank you Pastor, all the best,"

         We gave a departing hug and he left me alone with my thoughts.