Forgive and forget

The church was warm with the sound of Pastor Augustine’s voice.

“Forgive one another, just as Jesus forgave those who persecuted Him. Forgive—and do it seventy-seven times!” he declared, pounding the pulpit for emphasis.

Around me, heads bobbed in solemn agreement, like waves in perfect rhythm. They looked so holy, so convinced, as if forgiveness was a daily habit. I wasn’t fooled. My stomach growled, reminding me my own need was far more urgent—food.

“Hey, Sisi.”

I turned. My big sister, Anna, stood in the aisle, smiling like a secret getaway.

“Hey!” I answered, already knowing what she wanted.

“Come on, let’s use the restroom.”

The relief I felt was instant, like escaping a stuffy room into fresh air. I nodded eagerly.

We slipped out, leaving behind the drone of the sermon. I’ve always loved my family—just the four of us, the Tesins. In church, we were the picture of a perfect, respectable home. Dad and Mom worked tirelessly to make sure Anna and I had everything we needed.

In the restroom, Anna, was practically bouncing.

“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me…” she sang under her breath, a grin stretching across her face.

“Anna!” I hissed. “Lower your voice. We’re still in church.”

“Sorry,” she whispered, but her eyes twinkled. “Did you see Mrs. Daniel nodding while the pastor talked about forgiveness? That’s the same woman who fought another lady at the salon for calling her son ugly.”

I couldn’t help it—I burst out laughing, forgetting I’d just told her to be quiet.

Anna’s smile softened. “Sisi, I’m eighteen today. Next week, I’m leaving for college. I’ll be able to make my own choices—wear what I want, go where I want… and I wish the same for you.”

I sighed. Our parents’ rules had always been strict—clothes, friends, outings—everything was controlled. Dating was forbidden. Anna had managed to keep her boyfriend a secret, but I’d never dared.

“Let’s get back before Mom starts looking for us,” she urged.

At school, I often listened to girls talk about their boyfriends—sweet messages, romantic dates, stolen kisses. I had nothing to add. Still, there was Benedict. Benedict with the perfect voice, flawless skin, and eyes that seemed to hold the whole world.

“All rise as we say the Lord’s Prayer,” Pastor Augustine announced.

Finally, the service ended. But of course, we couldn’t leave until my parents exchanged greetings with half the congregation.

“Hi, Sisi.”

The voice was warm, familiar—and dangerous. I turned.

It was him. Benedict.

“Hi, Ben,” I managed, my cheeks heating.

He smiled faintly, then extended his hand with something folded in his palm. “I just wanted to give you this.”

I took the paper, my fingers brushing his. Before I could even lift my head again, he was gone—vanished into the crowd like a fleeting dream. I could not even say more if he was standing before me

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