Page 1 of Silent Prayer

PROLOGUE

Laura Hastings sat in her car, engine off, staring at the imposing stone facade of St. Michael's Church. Her fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel as she debated whether to go in.

You don't need to do this,a voice in her head said.Nobody will ever find out.

Yes, that was true. Butshe'dknow. The weight of her secret had been pressing down on her for months, threatening to crush her under its weight, and she wasn't sure she could stand it anymore.

"You have to do this," she whispered to herself, trying to summon courage. "Don't chicken out now."

A young couple walked past her car, hand in hand, chatting with easy smiles as they followed the sidewalk. Laura envied their lightness, their apparent freedom from the burden she carried.

She glanced at her watch. Ten minutes until the scheduled confession time. It was now or never.

Taking a deep breath, Laura opened her car door and stepped out. The cool autumn air caressed her face, carrying the scent of fallen leaves. She smoothed her skirt and started toward the church, each step feeling heavier than the last.

At the base of the stone steps, Laura paused again. Her heart raced. Was she really ready to speak her shame aloud?

You'll just be telling the priest. Your secrets are safe with him—it's not like you murdered anyone.

An elderly woman exited the church, noticing Laura's hesitation. "Are you alright, dear?" she asked.

Laura forced a smile. "Yes, thank you. Just...gathering my thoughts."

The woman nodded sympathetically and continued on her way. Laura watched her go, then turned back to the church. She'd come this far. She had to see it through.

With renewed determination, she climbed the steps and pulled open the heavy wooden door. The familiar scent of incense enveloped her as she entered the hushed interior. The church was entirely empty, not another soul in sight.

Laura dipped her fingers in the holy water, crossing herself out of long-ingrained habit. She made her way down the aisle, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet runner. The confessional loomed before her, its dark wood gleaming in the soft light.

She hesitated once more, her hand on the booth's handle. Before she could change her mind, she opened the door and slipped inside.

The small space felt even more confined than she remembered, the air thick and close. She knelt on the worn cushion, her knees protesting the familiar position.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It's been...a long time since my last confession."

There was a moment of silence, then a gentle voice came through the latticed window. "Welcome, my child. How long has it been?"

Laura swallowed hard. "Six months, Father."

"I see," the priest said, his tone free of judgment. "What brings you here today?"

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "I've done something terrible. Something I've been carrying for months."

"God is listening, child. Speak freely."

Laura's thoughts raced, memories flooding back. The weight of her guilt pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. She began to speak, her words coming out in a rush.

"I betrayed my husband, Father. I...I had an affair."

There was a pause, heavy with unspoken questions. When the priest spoke again, his voice was carefully neutral. "Can you tell me more about what happened?"

Laura hesitated. How much should she reveal? "It was a coworker. We were working late on a project, and things...escalated. It only happened once, but..."

"But the guilt remains," the priest finished for her.

"Yes," Laura whispered. "I can barely look my husband in the eye. He doesn't know, but I feel like I'm lying to him every day."

The priest was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, there was a hint of something in his voice that Laura couldn't quite identify. Curiosity? Concern?

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