17: Who could it be?

Henry sat in the silence that followed the lady's departure, the creak of the door echoing in his mind like a portentous bell tolling. He massaged his temples, feeling the weight of his emotions pressing against his head.

"What have I gotten myself into?" His voice was a mere murmur, barely audible in the heavy stillness of the room.

A knock startled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see Sister Anissa entering, her face etched with concern.

"Father, the lady has left," she said softly.

Henry straightened, attempting to regain his composure. "Ah, yes. I was... in prayer," he replied, his words stumbling slightly.

"I apologize for interrupting, Father," Anissa said, bowing her head.

"No trouble at all, Sister. Please, attend the church while I'm away," Henry instructed, gesturing towards her duties.

"Where are you headed, Father?" Anissa asked, curiosity coloring her voice.

"Just for a brief stroll," Henry answered vaguely, offering no further explanation.

"Very well. Take care, Father," Anissa replied, watching as Henry prepared to depart, shedding his priestly garb for the night.

Stepping outside, the cool night air offered a temporary reprieve from the turmoil within. Starting the engine, Henry drove away from the church, the weight of his actions heavy on his mind.

Stuck in traffic, Henry's thoughts turned inward, questioning the wisdom of his clandestine visit. Was this clandestine meeting wise? What if someone saw a priest out at this hour, visiting a woman? The potential for scandal loomed large in his mind.

"I'm only doing this to set things straight, to show her I'm unaffected," Henry muttered, a feeble attempt at self-justification.

"But who am I kidding? I miss her. I can't deny it," he admitted, the truth settling heavily on his conscience.

He closed his eyes briefly, offering a silent prayer for forgiveness, grappling with the conflicting desires within him.

"Forgive me, Lord, for my weakness," he whispered, a plea for absolution hanging in the air. "Just let me see her one last time."

With a heavy heart, Henry continued on his journey, torn between duty and desire, seeking solace in the darkness of the night.

The weight of the night seemed to magnify Henry's inner conflict as he wrestled with his feelings during the drive. He recalled the events that had led him to this precarious juncture, where his commitment to the cloth clashed with the tug of his heartstrings.

Arriving at his destination, Henry paused before ringing the doorbell. The anticipation gnawed at him, each second ticking by like an eternity. When the door opened, he was met with her familiar face, a lady in a yellow dress smiled and welcomed him.

"Father," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of longing and anticipation.

"May I come in, Khana?" Henry asked, his tone gentle yet laden with unspoken emotions.

She stepped aside, allowing him entry. The living room felt charged with unspoken words as they stood facing each other, the weight of their shared history hanging in the air.

"Please sit," Khana finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. She was delighted to see him. 

Henry took a seat, the silence thickening around them. Minutes passed like hours, the unsaid words building an invisible barrier between them. At last, Khana spoke.

"Glad to know you have at least put action into your words. I have a lot of questions and I want you to answer them so I can rest my mind and forget you completely," Her eyes glowed in determination.

"If that would help you move forward, then I'd gladly cooperate. I want us to be civilized with each other, I'm also tired of how we grow to hate each other right now," Henry replied.

"Before anything else, I want to be honest with you and I want you to do the same thing," says Khana.

She grabbed Henry's hand which the latter withdrew. Little did she know, Henry had to withdraw his hand before he was killed by the volt circulating around his body as soon as he felt her soft hands.

"Please do not do unnecessary things. Although I promised to cooperate, something like a physical touch is never part of that promise," says Henry.

Khana grabbed the wine instead and drank several ounces of the intoxicating liquid. 

"Stop drinking and let me hear whatever you want to ask so we can close our chapter. I want us to be history... nothing more... nothing less."

Khana broke down in tears. She grabbed the collar of the priest and yelled, " Why do you have to be calm, while I'm going crazy? I even had to fake my amnesia just to have an excuse to stop the wedding."

Henry was dumbfounded about hearing how horrible Khana did. However, he was kind of happy to hear that she no longer wanted to get married.

"I even packed my things that day to run away with you! But you ghosted me. I should not have this lingering feeling for you because you vanish and show up as someone far from my league."

"It was you who did not show up that time. I was there the whole day, but you never came," Henry replied. 

He suddenly recalled the letter he gave her since mobile phones were not budget-friendly at that time, and he was an adopted child of a humble background who did not enjoy luxury. He only had letters sent to one of Khana's friends whom he met at the party when they reunited after getting separated when they were young.

"What do you mean? I was drenched in rain waiting for you the whole fucking day at our meeting place!" Khana yelled again.

"Rain? How come you were drenched when the sky had not cried for the whole day?"

"Are you telling me I'm lying?! I waited for you from three in the midnight until eight in the evening, but neither your shadow appeared!"

"I-I don't understand. I remember it clearly, that day never rained. I was there since two at midnight, an hour earlier before our meeting time. I never left until 10 in the evening, I even went to your house only to see an empty house. You migrated somewhere without leaving a word to me," Henry explained.

"W-What?..."

They are both dumbfounded upon realizing there must be someone who purposely ruined them... But who could it be?