Outside in the beautiful garden, I sat with my leg crossed at a round table set for two, a small breakfast laid out neatly before me. The Bible was in my hand, flipping it from side to side, though I barely saw the words.
I never grew up in a Christian home, but I'd always believed there was a God, and that He would never abandon anyone. I had been a fool to think that.
I closed the Bible and set it on the table. A sudden gust of wind blew it open again. The thin pages whispered secrets as they fluttered. My eyes caught a line:
"Even there Your hand will guide me, Your right hand will hold me fast."
For a moment, I was lost in it. I almost laughed, but the sound never came. My face darkened.
"Even there?" I whispered through clenched teeth, anger in my voice. "Then where were You… when they died?"
---
Flashback
Twelve-year-old Jaycen crouched over his mother, her lifeless body pooled in blood. Tears streamed down his face, burning hot, but he didn't dare look at the horrors around him.
His father was hanged, dangling from the rafters. His three sisters had been beheaded, their small bodies grotesque in their final moments.
He couldn't move. He couldn't cry loudly. He just sat there, numb, drowning in despair, staring at the only warmth left in the world—his mother—before it was all taken from him.
Smoke choked the air, fire devouring the house around him.
The screams of others long dead seemed to echo in his ears, but he didn't flinch. He couldn't.
Then a short, muscular man stepped out from the shadows, gun in hand. Jaycen's eyes burned with hatred.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU?!" he screamed. "WHY?!"
The man didn't answer. He just raised his gun, and in an instant—WHACK!—darkness swallowed him whole.
End of Flashback
That man. That moment. It defined everything. It explained the anger, the distrust, the bitterness that had hardened me inside.
---
I felt the presence of someone approaching. Looking up, she was there—her gray hair flowing gracefully, her dress fitting her perfectly.
I already knew the kind of clothes she would wear from her calm and modest aura. She moved with grace, every step deliberate, cat-like, yet peaceful. There was an energy about her I could feel even before I truly saw her.
She walked to the table, eyes moving from me to the food. She was clearly hungry but trying to restrain herself. I chuckled quietly.
"Sit down."
She looked up, nodded, and carried a chair next to me. She sat, still watching the surroundings, waiting patiently as if expecting instructions.
I dropped the Bible and began to eat. She didn't touch the food.
"You can eat the food," I prompted. She made a small "oh" expression, pressed her hands together in what looked like a silent prayer, then slowly closed her eyes.
I watched, confused.
"It's called a prayer," she explained calmly. Her baby-blue eyes met mine as she cleaned her lips with a napkin.
"So… you're a Christian, huh?" I asked.
"A true one, saved by His grace," she said softly. "What about you, are you…?"
"I don't believe He exists," I cut in, expecting her to react with shock. Instead, she tilted her head with curiosity.
"Well, after what I saw last night, it's obvious you don't believe in God."
Great. Another person ready to judge me. But she continued,
"I'm not going to judge you. Who am I to judge when I myself am not perfect?"
I was caught off guard. No one had ever looked past my reputation to see me as I truly was.
"But I'd love to know—why don't you believe He exists?" she asked, genuinely interested.
I hesitated. Could I tell her? Could I risk showing her the scars of my past?
"How do you intend to go home?" I changed the topic, trying to regain control.
She looked surprised. "Not sure. I tried calling my father, but my phone's dead and I don't have a charger."
"Hmmm… I see. Bring your chair next to me." She complied, still calm. I could see confusion in her eyes but she still complied.
A soft whisper reached me: "Treat her gently." I froze. That voice—I knew it. It had to be her doing.
But I was hopping it wasn't what I think it
is.
I gestured my hand. She didn't want to, surprised, but she did. She placed her hand over mine, hesitating again. "Don't worry, I don't bite… love."
Did I just call her love? My shock must have mirrored hers, but she gave in. Her palms were soft, warm.
Wow, reminds me of my mom plan, soft and warm like home. I stared at her. Beautiful. Her hair and eyes are very adorable but her personality?
I really want to know what she's like.
I know she's very different, especially her not judging me. She's perfect but not sure if my world would accept her.
One of my guards appeared silently, then returned with a man—her father. Shorter than me, furious, breathless, face flushed. Perfect timing.
Selah stiffened, trying to rise, but I held her hand gently, preventing her from reacting.
"Jaycen!" her father bellowed. The guard's presence didn't stop his wrath. He froze at the sight of us, disgusted. "Is this how I taught you to behave around men? I taught you to carry yourself high and never fall for any man's charms. And yet… you're just as foolish as your mother!"
Selah flinched, eyes wide. "F–Father…" she whispered, trembling. "I–I'm sorry… I'm s–sorry…"
She stood up, her head bowed. Surprised by her action. "Sit down Selah." I commanded but with a soft tone.
Her father was surprised. He never thought a beats like me could be soft.
She looked at her father, then me
I gestured for her to take my hand again. Always hesitating. What makes her look like a rabbit about to enter his hole, ensuring if it isn't the wrong one.
She sat down. Her hand made me feel calm.
She was the first woman I have a woman's favourite place for me to touch is their palm.
Normally their private areas but her, no, just her arm does the trick. Maybe because she reminded me of my mom's palm
"You really don't know how to test a woman Nathalie. Look at her, so fragile and your bark like a dog."
I looked at him coldly, he shivers. I chuckled silently, works every time.
"Leave my daughter out of this," he said firmly.
"But she's already part, tell me, what hair oil do you use my darling." I said turning my gaze to her.
She looked completely shocked and amused. Me myself don't know what's happening but I was enjoying it.
"Well... I..I uhm.."
" Will you
be quiet
young lady." He screams at her which makes her jolt.
I didn't like that.
" Look Jaycen This is between you and me. She's off-limits. If you do anything to get back at me, you won't like the outcome. I don't joke with her."
Selah's hand is still in mine. For a heartbeat, the garden held its breath.
I reached into my pocket and produced a silver ring. Holding it over her index finger, I slipped it on. She looked confused.
"And I don't joke with my wife," I added softly, with absolute certainty.
Selah's eyes flicked to her father—shock giving way to something unreadable. The father's jaw tightened, and the guard shifted uneasily. The air between them had changed.