While preparing for my niece Ellie’s christening, I met a man named Nathan—kind, thoughtful, and impossible not to like. But he was a priest, and his vow to God stood between us in a way I couldn’t ignore.
The day we finalized the christening details, I met Nathan. I was surprised—he didn’t look like a priest. We exchanged a few lighthearted words, and I couldn’t help but feel an unexpected connection. We continued talking, and I found myself enjoying our conversations, even though he was a man I could never have.
One Sunday, I went to his service. Nathan’s warmth and sincerity made me understand why people liked him. Afterward, we talked for hours, and I felt more comfortable with him than anyone in a long time. But I knew he could never be mine.
A kiss between us led to a confession: Nathan struggled with his feelings for me but couldn’t escape his commitment to God. I knew we were both caught in something we couldn’t change.
The next day, Nathan backed out of the christening, and I was torn. But when he came to see me, he admitted that I had shaken his faith in his path. Despite everything, we kissed again, and the night ended in a way neither of us expected.
The next morning, Nathan went back to the church for the christening. The ceremony was flawless, but after, the weight of our unspoken emotions was too much to ignore. Nathan confirmed what I already knew—his heart belonged to God, not to me.
We shared a final moment outside. I told him I loved him, and he hugged me tightly, promising it wouldn’t last forever. And just like that, he walked away. It was the last time I saw him.