He hung up and shot onest look at the person lying in the hospital bed before turning and leaving the room in a rush.


    Somehow, rain had started falling outside. Fine and steady, it blurred the city lights as his ck Bentley disappeared into the night.


    By the time the car pulled up outside St. Dominic''s, the air had turned bitter and wet. The church sat there, tall and silent, its spire lost in the mist. Broad stone steps climbed up to the front doors, each one washed dark with rain, fading into the shadows like they led straight into the night.


    A young priest stood under the porch,ntern in hand, getting ready to lock up. He nced over warily as Sebastian approached. "Sorry, sir, the church is closed for the night. If you want to confess or pray, you''ll have toe back in the morning." "I''m not here for myself." Sebastian''s voice was quiet but firm. “I just want to light a candle for two people I owe more than I can ever repay."


    The priest hesitated, polite but still blocking the way. "We can''t have visitors thiste. The priests are all resting. If you want to light a candle, pleasee back for morning prayers."


    "She once kept vigil all night for me. If she could do that back then, why can''t I do this now?" Sebastian took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the heavy doors. "I want to go in. I need to light two candles."


    Thentern''s glow washed his face pale, but his eyes stayed steady and clear.


    The priest paused, studying him, taking in his suit d sharp features. Sebastian looked every bit the man used to fighting battles in boardrooms. But the pain and regret in his expression couldn''t be hidden. It was so real, so raw, that the priest finally gave in and nodded.


    "I can''t let you into the confessional," he said softly, "but you can pray and light your candles out front. Come in."


    The doors swung open, and the hush of the empty church closed around them like a nket.


    Under the soaring arches, the statue of the Virgin Mary stood watch, the stained ss windows dull with rain. Sebastian stopped in front of the altar and lit the first candle.


    The small me stood still, stubborn against the darkness.


    He whispered, "This one''s for Reese. May she be safe, may pain and sickness never touch her."


    The sound of rain echoed in the high ceiling, swallowing his words. It was like a prayer he''d been holding inside for years, finally let out.


    He lit the second candle. The me flickered, and his eyes shone red in the candlelight, tears threatening.


    "Let her be free from pain. Let her always smile."


    His voice was barely a breath. Fingers trembling, he touched the wet, cold stone under the candles. His shirt clung to his back, heavy and soaked, tracing the hard lines of his muscles.


    He didn''t linger. Instead, he stepped back out into the rain and knelt on the stone steps. These were the same steps that filled with crowds for weddings and funerals, but now they were empty. The only sound was the rain.


    His knees hit the cold, wet stone. The first shock was icy, then it turned to a slow, biting ache. Every time he knelt, bowed, and pressed his forehead down, his body screamed in protest.


    But he refused to stop.


    Guilt pressed down on him, crushing, leaving no room for weakness. He was terrified that even the smallest pause would make God turn away, would leave Reese and the old man in the hospital without mercy.


    "Lord, forgive my ignorance."


    He murmured, and Reese''sst look shed in his mind-her eyes calm and distant, colder than any usation.


    He saw the old man too, frail and pale under the oxygen mask, squeezing his hand as if giving him everyst bit of strength.


    shes of the boardroom came next-executives in their suits, all fake loyalty and hidden knives.


    He was the king of a fortress, but all he felt was defeat, standing alone among the ruins.


    "Sir!"


    The priest ran out onto the steps,ntern swinging, rain pouring down. He stopped a few steps above Sebastian, watching him knee in the mud soaked and shivering, but unyielding


    "Please, this isn''t the way! God won''t forgive you more just because you hurt yourself. He looks at your heart Come back tomorrow-the church will help you."


    Sebastian didn''t answer. He pressed his hands to the stone, forcing himself upright even as his whole body shook.


    His movements were slow but sure. The pain in his knees burned, but he made himself kneel again.


    Rain dripped from his hair, his forehead pressed to the cold, gritty stone. He shut his eyes and whispered, "It''s not the same."


    His voice was rough, barely more than a growl, every word pulled from somewhere deep.


    "The wrongs of today-I need to redeem them tonight."


    The priest stood there, gripping his umbre, silent. He wanted to step in, to help,


    but he could see there was nothing he could do.


    Every prayer Sebastian whispered felt like it ripped him open.


    The rain kept falling, wind sneaking into his sleeves and down his back. His hands were scraped and red pants Heavy with mud each ache and bruise another weight on his heart.


    By his fiftieth prayer, he couldn''t even tell what was on his face—rain, sweat, or tears.


    His vision blurred until all he could see was the hazy outline of the Virgin Mary.


    But what he felt most clearly was a memory from seven years ago—


    Outside the courthouse, Eve had held his hand, her eyes shining with sincerity. "Sebastian, I promise I''ll always take care of you."


    Back then, the sun was shining and her smile was warm.


    And him?


    He''d taken her love for granted, ignoring her gentle kindness over and over, crushing her hopes for the future with every careless word.