Aika- The Girl Who Deserves It All

I reached for the Bible on the pew beside me. My fingers hesitated before opening it, like the pages might bite. I flipped it open at random. My eyes landed on the verse.

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

I let out a broken sound.

Rest.

It was exactly the answer to my prayers. But it still annoyed me. I slammed the book shut and tossed it away. It skidded across the floor and stopped against the leg of a pew.

‘I don’t know how to rest,’ I whispered into the empty room. ‘I never learned.’

I wiped my face with my sleeve and forced myself to breathe slower. In. Out. In. Out. I wasn’t angry at God. I was just tired of being brave. At least, if I couldn’t be brave anymore, I wanted someone I could rely on.

I sat there until my heartbeat stopped racing, until the ache in my chest dulled enough to stand. I smoothed my clothes. Fixed my hair. Practiced the version of my face that could exist around other people.

Aika let’s go. They’re waiting. I slapped my face for a wake up call as I get up to leave. I turned abruptly and slammed unto something. The impact knocked my breath away.

Next thing I saw was the sharp edge of the wooden pew rushing toward me. My vision swam. The world tilted.

Then strong arms were around me. I barely registered the movement before I was pulled back steadily. I gasped too late. My hands flew out, clutching fabric.

If angels rescued humans, I imagined this was how they’d feel when they caught you.

‘Aika…’

It’s his voice. I looked up.

Caleb… Just when I was praying for someone to share my burdens with…

Time froze. It was like everything moved slow, and it was only us both who mattered. I was close enough to see the faint crease between his brows. His slightly disheveled hair. Uneven breathing. Eyes wide with concern and something else he was trying very hard not to let show. He really looked like an angel.

Caleb’s grip was firm. I could feel where his fingers rested. He steadied me without pinning me. He knew exactly how much pressure was allowed.

He realized it at the same time I did.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said immediately, loosening his hold as if it burned me. ‘I didn’t mean to… Are you hurt?’

I wasn’t hiding it anymore. My gaze drifted to his mouth. Then his eyes. Then back to his mouth again.

I had been touched by men too many times to keep count. All were careless and rough. Not one of them had ever looked at me like this.

Not the look of wanting something from me, but wanting something with me. And still stopping. God’s chosen ones were terrifying in their own way.

My hands were still clenched in the fabric of his sleeves. His face was only centimeters from mine. Close enough that I could feel his steady but strained breath. My heart forgot how to behave. Neither of us moved. The chapel seemed to hold its breath with us.

I knew that if either of us leaned forward, there would be no pretending this was an accident anymore.

Go on. Go, Caleb. Second chance. Kiss me.

He looked me in the eye and it was clear that he understood me this time. Even so, he didn’t go for it. Instead, he gently took my hand as he was grounded me back into the world.

A thousand emotions collided inside me at once. Disappointment came first. Disappointed that he wouldn’t quench my thirst. Then relief that he wasn't the type to take the opportunity just because it presented itself. Embarrassment followed, for how brazen I had been. Eventually, gratitude too.

He’s a gentleman after all. He’s treating me like I’m something precious. Or maybe….maybe he finds me repulsive after all.

He lifted my hand and kissed it.

He looked at my eyes first, as if asking permission. The kiss itself was reverent, almost ceremonial, like he was sealing a promise into my skin rather than claiming anything.

‘This is all I can do for now,’ he said softly. ‘But please don’t doubt it.’

‘I have feelings for you, Aika.’

‘Caleb, I—‘

‘I won’t touch you in a way that steals from you,’ he continued. ‘And I won’t lie to you about what’s in my heart.’

I couldn’t speak. If I opened my mouth, I would either cry or beg him to forget every vow he had ever made before meeting me.

‘If you ask me to wait, I will,’ he said, squeezing my hand gently. ‘I don’t know what the future holds, or what God has planned for me yet. But I know I want you in it.’

That was it. No sermon. No justification. Just truth, laid bare and restrained by choice. And somehow, that restraint hurt more than rejection ever could.

Do you find me disgusting? Because I find me disgusting. I couldn’t ask him that. It would sound manipulative and pathetic.

‘I need to arrange things in my life,’ he began, ‘if you would give me the cha—’

I didn’t let him finish. Again.

I did the cowardly thing. I pulled my hand back, nodded once, and dusted myself off as if I just haven’t heard the most romantic thing in my whole life. Self-doubts won this round again. Yey.

‘It’s fine,’ I said too quickly. ‘I’m okay.’

That’s right. Whether I liked it or not, I was filth. And filth didn’t get to ask holy men for more.

I turned away and walked out hurriedly before he could see how badly I was shaking.