The sharp clink of metal forks against plates echoed almost like a ringing chime off the walls, breaking the heavy silence. There had never been enough noise in this small house to truly call it a home. At first glance, it didn’t seem that way: well-crafted wooden furniture, a large fireplace, beautiful china, and bright sunlight spilling into the living room through neatly drawn curtains. The house of a perfect family—one that never truly existed.

  “Yesterday, I met the Huber family,” Felix began carefully, lifting his eyes from his plate to the woman sitting opposite him, dressed neatly in gray and wearing a string of pearls. “And I’ll be looking after their son. You know, Molly, he…”

  “Felix,” Molly interrupted sharply, sighing with irritation as she tucked a stray blond lock behind her ear, making the round earring sway. “I’m happy for you, but actually—” She stood, set her tea cup aside, and grabbed a black suede purse from the shelf, slipping it into her handbag with practiced ease. “I have to get to a meeting about the charity gala. You’re not interested in that, so we can talk later.”

  Felix only nodded silently, watching her leave. After the door slammed shut, the heaviness in his head returned, suffocating his lungs as if dust had settled inside him, impossible to brush away. He struggled to lift his gaze and caught sight of their wedding photo. It hung so prominently it was almost irritating—the happy faces, the forced grandeur… Nothing like the dry reality. Their marriage was a sham, yet at least at the start, they’d tried to be happy. When had they given up? No wonder. After thirteen years of marriage, all the hopeful promises that “love would come with time” had yet to come true. Felix sighed deeply and ran a hand over his face. Morning stubble pricked lightly. But there was no time for self-pity. Too many tasks awaited in this long day.

  * * *

  “Thank you for visiting Grandpa, Father Felix!” a young woman smiled warmly from the doorway of a small house. “You have no idea how much he’s been waiting for you!”

  “Oh, nonsense,” Felix replied with the same smile. “It’s my pleasure. God bless you.”

  Goodbyes were always the easiest part of this heavy, peculiar work. A gentle man by nature, Felix found it hard to visit old acquaintances who were soon to meet God. That elderly man—now looking more like a mummy—had once been full of life, speaking to Felix about icon painting and even promising the boy a great future. Felix sensed it wouldn’t be long before he’d have to see him off on his final journey. That knowledge made the already heavy burden on his heart feel even heavier.

  A sudden burst of loud laughter pulled him from his thoughts—bold and shrill enough to make him not want to look. It was as if Felix already knew what he’d see. Quick, firm footsteps echoed nearby, accompanied by the clinking of jewelry and the smell of tobacco. He wanted to ignore it, to pass by the obvious troublemakers, but a loud “Hey!” left no choice. Felix turned, about to scold the rude shouting and noise on the street, but his thoughts beat reason to the punch:

  “Elias…” Felix breathed quietly, watching the young man approach.

  Behind him, across the street, a group of similar youths lingered—those who’d stopped crossing the church threshold after starting high school and frequenting shady places. Yet Elias stood apart from the crowd. Perhaps because he was standing right in front of the priest now, wearing a rude smile.

  “I thought priests didn’t roam the streets,” Elias said with a smirk, “and only hide in churches because they’re scared of themselves and the world.”

  “I’m not afraid of the world,” Felix replied coldly, knitting his brows.

  “And yourself?”

  The question knocked the air from Felix’s lungs with such force he was left speechless. Then, to his own surprise, he snorted with contempt, turned back to the road, and clenched his rosary beads in his hands. What did this boy think he was doing?! It was nothing but disrespect and mockery! Felix tried not to show his irritation, but it crept in between his brows.

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  “That’s an inappropriate question,” Felix finally said, regaining his composure and calm expression. “And shouldn’t you, Elias, be at school right now? Besides, you and your friends are smoking right under the neighbors’ windows. Smoking is very harmful to a young body.”

  A silence fell between them, thick and tense. Even the noisy group behind seemed to quiet, listening to their exchange—or maybe it only felt that way.

  “I graduated six years ago, Father Felix. I’m twenty-two,” Elias said, catching Felix off guard. “Besides, didn’t you say I could do whatever I wanted? That God gave me free will, according to you.” Elias grinned, clearly relaxed, making the moment even more uncomfortable for the priest. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he leaned in, too close to Felix’s face, and smirked boldly. “Would you prefer me younger? So those rumors about priests weren’t just rumors? Awkward…”

  Felix nearly choked on his outrage. Where did these vile stereotypes even come from, and why did they touch his honest name?! Elias had made him snort twice in five minutes—a first in his memory. But at his age and position, such behavior was unacceptable. Raising his head, Felix shot the young man a contemptuous look, clearly wanting to end the conversation.

  “No. Your words are nonsense,” he said shortly.

  Without waiting for a reply, Felix continued slowly on his way, as if fleeing. But was he really running away from Elias?

  * * *

  After that chance encounter on the street, in front of witnesses, Felix sincerely hoped their conversation would be forgotten, their contact at least minimized. Any reasonable person not wanting to spread rumors would have done so. Anyone but Elias.

  He seemed to stalk the priest all week long. During work in his office, Felix would hear the roar of Elias’s engine. Elias was clearly outside his window, making noise—perhaps even watching him. By the third day, Felix had to block out the sunlight, keeping the curtains closed constantly, which only seemed to provoke the troublemaker further. Elias came to church every day—sometimes with family, sometimes alone—but never to pray. He simply sat in the third row, burning Felix with those deep black eyes, then silently slipped away into the crowd, breaking the priest’s fragile peace with the roar of his engine from the street.

  Several times Felix found notes. The first slipped from his prayer book, the inscription shining: “What if I really were younger—would you still have your precious free will?” Others appeared everywhere: behind icons, at his office door, in candles, again in the prayer book… It was maddening. But what unnerved Felix most was the strange uncertainty: was this just a brazen boy’s game, or something more?

  The church emptied after the last mass, but Felix wasn’t ready to leave. To go back to that house, to that silence. To Molly. For the first time in a long while, he let himself descend to the pews and sit like his parishioners did. He only did this when feeling worse than usual. Closing his eyes, fingering his rosary beads, he began to silently recite a prayer when footsteps startled him. So suddenly he forgot to stand—he merely turned quietly, then froze in stunned silence.

  Elias stood in the doorway. One hand rested near the slim jeans pocket, thumb casually hooked inside. His head was covered by a black wide-brimmed hat, and a cigarette smoldered between the fingers of his free hand, smoke curling around him. Every rule of church conduct was being broken. His emerald shirt was unbuttoned almost to the waist, leaving his torso bare—a clear testament to his strength and hard work, judging by the defined abs and broad chest. So glaringly obvious that Felix felt ashamed—first for lowering his gaze, then for staring.

  Elias brought the cigarette to his lips, took a deep drag, and exhaled a large cloud of smoke inside the church. Then he glanced down at the holy water font by the entrance, bent closer, scooped water with his hand, and splashed it on his neck with a loud exhale and slap, as if emerging from a cold lake. Felix could no longer hold back. Slowly, tension coiling in his whole body, he rose and called Elias with a low voice. His words echoed off the walls.

  “You’re in a church, Elias. That’s holy water,” Felix said, gripping his rosary tighter, struggling to keep his composure and dignity. “Behave properly in a sacred place.”

  “God doesn’t stop me,” Elias laughed openly, spitting defiantly on the floor without looking away from Felix. “See? God doesn’t care! Come on, try it yourself—it’s great!”

  “Elias, I’m asking you to stop.”

  “You’re boring!” Elias exclaimed, dropping his cigarette to the floor and crushing it with his boot. Felix clenched his jaw so tightly it nearly cracked. “Want to dance? Because I want to! Sing me something from a prayer! How did it go…”

  He theatrically feigned thoughtfulness, then threw his hands up, quietly humming Ave Maria. So beautiful, tender, and smooth… Uncharacteristic for a man, especially one so masculine. The confidence of his movements only added to the beauty, creating a striking image. But what blasphemy it was—to act so lewdly and vilely, and in a church, in front of a priest! Felix wanted to speak up, to put him in his place, but something invisible held him silent.

  Until Elias, quietly closing the distance during his dance, suddenly jumped onto a pew and, laughing, started unbuckling his jeans belt.

  “Look, Father Felix, I can even pee in a holy place—and God won’t care! Look at that!”

  “Stop this at once!”

  Felix rushed to Elias, grabbing his large wrists roughly with his knobby fingers. He looked up at the troublemaker with a face that usually made everyone terribly afraid. But Elias… He smiled broadly, eyes sparkling with genuine mischief. He wasn’t scared or irritated—no, he was clearly happy to have ruffled such a calm man. And that scared Felix the most.

  “See, Father Felix,” Elias released his belt and lightly touched the priest’s thin wrists with his fingertips, making Felix flinch and pull back, “you’re bound by your own faith, but I’m not. My will is free. If God gave you free will, why don’t you give it to yourself? Think about what you’d do if I touched you like this…”

  In the next second, his hand slid higher, tickling Felix’s neck and cradling his jaw, gently stroking his cheek as Elias leaned closer and closer. Felix’s hands trembled and dropped the rosary beads. Horror froze in his eyes.