Against the Altar

Chapter 5: Drowning

Liana didn't respond.

Not that night. Not the next day. Not all week.

Ava checked her phone obsessively—between classes, during meetings, in the middle of the night when she couldn't sleep. The message showed as delivered, then read. But no response came.

Maybe Liana had moved on. Maybe she'd met someone new, someone braver, someone who wouldn't choose family approval over love. Maybe Ava's apology was too little, too late.

Or maybe Liana had simply run out of patience for Ava's cowardice.

Sunday lunch with both families loomed like an execution date.

On Sunday morning, Ava stood in front of her closet for twenty minutes, staring at her clothes as if they held answers. Another dress. Another performance. Another step deeper into a lie that was becoming her reality.

Her phone rang—her mother.

"Are you on your way?"

"Yes, Mama."

"Good. And Ava—your father wanted me to remind you that the Mthembus are very traditional. So please, no talking about work too much. Let Thabo lead the conversations."

Ava closed her eyes. "Of course."

"And smile, darling. You've seemed so sad lately. Today should be joyful."

Joyful. Right.

The drive to her parents' house felt like driving toward her own funeral. When she arrived, the Mthembus' car was already there, along with another vehicle she didn't recognize. Through the window, she could see people moving around—more guests than she'd expected.

Her mother opened the door before Ava could knock. "Oh good, you're here. Come, come, everyone's in the living room."

"Everyone?"

"Just family. And Pastor Khumalo—your father thought it would be nice to have him bless the meal. And Mrs. Nkosi and her daughter. They wanted to show support."

Mrs. Nkosi. The woman whose daughter had taken the photo that started everything. Ava felt sick.

The living room was full of people—her parents, the Mthembus, Pastor Khumalo with his booming voice and judgmental eyes, Mrs. Nkosi and her daughter, who couldn't meet Ava's gaze. Everyone turned as she entered, and Ava felt herself being assessed, evaluated, measured against the story they'd all been told about her redemption.

"Ava!" Thabo's mother embraced her warmly. "You look lovely, my dear. Doesn't she look lovely, Thabo?"

Thabo stood near the window, and when their eyes met, she saw understanding there. And pity. "Very lovely," he said dutifully.

Lunch was excruciating. Ava sat between Thabo and her mother, while conversations swirled around her about wedding traditions, about how wonderful it was to see young people taking faith seriously, about God's plan for righteous living.

"It's so refreshing," Pastor Khumalo said, his voice filling the room, "to see a young woman who was lost finding her way back to the path of righteousness. Your parents are to be commended, Ava, for their steadfast guidance."

Ava forced a smile. "Yes, Pastor."

"And Thabo, you are blessed to find a wife who has learned the error of her ways. A woman who has been tested and chosen truth over—" He paused delicately. "Over deviance."

The word hung in the air like poison. Ava's hands clenched in her lap under the table. Beside her, she felt Thabo stiffen.

"Ava was never deviant," Thabo said quietly but firmly. "She's a good person who was figuring out her life. We all have that journey."

Pastor Khumalo's eyebrows rose. "Of course, of course. I simply meant—"

"I know what you meant, Pastor. And with respect, I don't think we need to keep discussing Ava's past. What matters is the present, and the future we're building together."

The table went quiet. Ava stared at Thabo, shocked by his defense of her. Her father's face was unreadable, but her mother looked pleased—probably interpreting Thabo's words as protective rather than what they actually were: a rejection of the narrative everyone was so eager to believe.

"Well said, son," Pastor Mthembu said, raising his glass. "To the future."

"To the future," everyone echoed, glasses clinking.

Ava lifted her glass mechanically, the taste of grape juice bitter on her tongue. This was her future—sitting at tables with people who thought they'd saved her, who believed she'd been fixed, who would spend the rest of her life congratulating themselves for rescuing her from herself.

After lunch, while the mothers cleared dishes and the fathers talked business, Mrs. Nkosi cornered Ava in the hallway.

"I want you to know," she said, her voice low and intense, "that I didn't mean for things to happen the way they did. When my daughter sent me that photo, I was just concerned. I thought your mother should know."

"Concerned," Ava repeated flatly.

"Yes! Concerned for your soul, for your family's reputation. Surely you understand—we all have a duty to look out for one another in the body of Christ."

"By exposing people? By sharing their private moments with the whole congregation?"

Mrs. Nkosi's face hardened. "There is nothing private about sin, Ava. And if sharing that photo helped bring you back to righteousness, then I make no apologies for my actions."

"Back to righteousness," Ava said, her voice hollow. "Is that what you think this is?"

"Isn't it? You're here with a godly man, aren't you? You've ended that unnatural relationship? You've returned to your family and your faith?" Mrs. Nkosi smiled, satisfied. "Sometimes we need to be pushed toward our own salvation."

Ava wanted to scream. Wanted to tell this woman that she'd destroyed something beautiful, that her so-called concern had cost Ava the only real happiness she'd ever known. But she was so tired. So tired of fighting, of explaining, of trying to make people understand something they were determined not to see.

"Excuse me," Ava said instead, and walked away before Mrs. Nkosi could respond.

She found herself in the backyard, where the garden was in full bloom—her mother's pride and joy. Ava sank onto the wooden bench near the roses and pressed her hands into her face.

"That was awful," Thabo's voice said from behind her.

She looked up to find him standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, expression grim.

"Thank you," Ava said. "For what you said there. About not discussing my past."

"I meant it. What Pastor Khumalo said was cruel. And your mother—" He stopped himself.

"You can say it. My mother enabled all of this."

"She thinks she's saving you."

"By destroying me?"

Thabo sat down on the bench beside her, careful to maintain a respectful distance. "I've been thinking about what you told me. About Liana. And I keep wondering—what are you waiting for?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we both know this isn't real. We're playing a part in keeping our families happy. But at what cost? You sent her a message, you said you loved her, and she hasn't responded. Maybe she's done with you, maybe she's not. But you won't know unless you actually do something about it."

"Like what?"

"Like stop hiding. Like tell your parents the truth. Like fighting for her." Thabo's voice was frustrated now. "Ava, I'm watching you die in slow motion. Every smile you fake, every time you play the dutiful daughter, you lose a little more of yourself. How long can you sustain that?"

"As long as I have to."

"Why? What are you so afraid of?"

"Losing them!" The words burst out of Ava. "Losing my family, losing everything I've ever known. Being cut off, alone, rejected. Becoming like—" She stopped.

"Like Liana?" Thabo said quietly. "Is that what you were going to say?"

Ava couldn't look at him.

"You know what I think? I think you're more afraid of being free than you are of losing your family. Because if you're free, if you make that choice, then you have to live with it. You have to build a life that's actually yours, not the one they designed for you. And that's terrifying."

"You don't understand—"

"Don't I?" Thabo's voice was sharp now. "You think I'm here by choice? You think I enjoy these performances? Ava, I have my own secrets. My own life doesn't fit into the neat little box my parents have designed. But I'm not brave enough to break free either. So I sit at these lunches and smile and play my part, and every day I feel myself disappearing."

Ava turned to look at him. His face was drawn, tired, and she saw something in his eyes she recognized—the exhaustion of pretending, the weight of living for others.

"What secret?" she asked quietly.

He laughed bitterly. "Does it matter? The point is we're both trapped. Both too afraid to claim our lives. And we're going to end up married to each other out of cowardice, both of us miserable, both of us wishing we'd had the courage to be honest."

The picture he painted was so vivid, so inevitable, that Ava felt like she couldn't breathe.

"My mother is already talking about an engagement," Thabo continued. "She wants it to happen before the end of the year. A Christmas engagement, she says. Romantic."

"That's only three months away."

"I know. Which means you have three months to decide who you want to be. The woman your parents think you should be, or the woman you actually are."

"And what about you?" Ava asked. "What will you decide?"

Thabo was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "I don't know. I'd like to think I'd be brave. But honestly? I'll probably end up exactly where I am—sitting at lunches I don't want to attend, dating women I don't love, living a life that belongs to someone else."

The resignation in his voice broke Ava's heart. "That's incredibly sad."

"Yes," he agreed. "It is. But at least I'm not taking someone else down with me. You still have a chance, Ava. Liana is still out there, still living her life. If you move fast enough, if you're brave enough, maybe you can still fix this."

"She hasn't responded to my message."

"Then go to her. Show up at her door. Tell her face to face that you're sorry, that you want to try again. Give her something more than words on a screen."

"What if she slams the door in my face?"

"Then at least you'll know you tried. At least you'll know you showed up."

They sat in silence, the afternoon sun warming the surrounding garden. Inside, Ava could hear laughter, the clinking of dishes, the sound of families celebrating a future that didn't exist.

"I'm scared," Ava admitted.

"I know. But being scared isn't a reason not to do something. Sometimes being scared means it's important."

Ava thought about Liana's apartment, about the colors and light and life that filled every corner. About walking away from her parents' expectations and into the unknown. About choosing herself, even if it meant losing everything she'd ever known.

Could she do it? Could she really?

"Ava! Thabo!" Her mother's voice called from the house. "Come inside! We're taking photos!"

Photos. Evidence of this fake relationship, documentation of a future that would haunt her forever.

Ava stood slowly. Thabo stood too, and for a moment they just looked at each other—two people caught in the same trap, both wondering if escape was possible.

"Three months," Thabo said quietly. "Then my mother will start planning an engagement party, and it will be much harder to back out. Three months to decide."

Ava nodded, throat tight.

They walked back inside together, where their families waited with cameras and smiles and plans for a future neither of them wanted.

And as Ava stood next to Thabo, as her mother counted down for the photo, as she forced her face into a smile that felt like a death mask, she thought about Liana.

About the message she'd sent that had gone unanswered.

About the choice she still had to make.

About the time that was running out.

The camera flashed, capturing the moment forever—a beautiful lie, perfectly preserved.

---

That night, alone in her apartment, Ava pulled up Liana's contact again. Still no response to her message from days ago. The read receipt mocked her—Liana had seen it, had made a choice not to respond.

Maybe it was too late. Maybe she'd already lost her chance.

Or maybe Thabo was right. Maybe she needed to do more than send a message. Maybe she needed to show up, to be brave in person rather than from the safety of distance.

Ava looked at the time: 9:47 PM. Not too late. Liana was probably still awake, probably working on a design project, music playing, completely focused.

Before she could overthink it, Ava grabbed her keys and walked out the door.

The drive to Liana's apartment took twenty minutes, but every second felt like forever. Ava's heart pounded, her hands gripped the steering wheel, so tightly her knuckles were white. What would she say? What if Liana really did slam the door in her face?

But she kept driving.

She parked across the street from Liana's building and sat in her car, staring up at the familiar window. The light was on. Liana was home.

Ava got out of the car and walked to the building entrance with her shaking legs. She pressed the buzzer for Liana's apartment.

No answer.

She pressed it again.

Still nothing.

Maybe Liana wasn't home. Maybe she'd left the light on and gone out. Maybe—

"Who is it?" Liana's voice came through the speaker, cautious.

Ava's breath caught. "It's me. It's Ava."

Silence. Long enough that Ava thought Liana might just walk away from the intercom.

Then: "Why are you here?"

"I need to talk to you. Please. Just—just five minutes. If you want me to leave after that, I will. But please, Liana. Please let me say what I came to say."

More silence. Then the lock buzzed, and the door clicked open.

Ava took the stairs two at a time, her heart hammering. When she reached Liana's floor, the apartment door was already open. Liana stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her face carefully neutral.

She looked beautiful. Tired, maybe, and guarded in a way she'd never been with Ava before. But beautiful.

"Five minutes," Liana said.

Ava stepped inside. The apartment looked the same—colorful, warm, alive. But it felt different somehow. Or maybe Ava was the one who was different, who no longer belonged here.

"So?" Liana prompted. "Talk."

And standing there in the apartment where she'd spent so many happy hours, looking at the woman she'd thrown away, Ava found all her prepared words had evaporated.

"I'm sorry," she finally said. "I'm so sorry, Liana. For everything. For choosing them over you. For being a coward. For—"

"I got your message," Liana interrupted. "I read it. Multiple times."

"Then why didn't you respond?"

"Because I didn't know what to say. Because sorry isn't enough, Ava. Because I can't keep doing this—loving you, losing you, loving you again. It's killing me."

"I know. I know it is. But I'm here now. I'm standing in front of you, telling you I was wrong. That I made a mistake. That I—"

"And tomorrow?" Liana's voice was sharp. "What about tomorrow, when is your mother calls? When your father demands you come to another family dinner? When will they push you toward Thabo again? What then, Ava? Are you going to run back to them like you always do?"

"No. I won't."

"How can I believe that? You've said it before. You've promised before. And every time, you end up back in their world, playing their part."

"I was at their house today," Ava said. "For Sunday lunch. With Thabo and his family and half the congregation. And everyone was so pleased with themselves, so satisfied that they'd saved me from my deviance." The word tasted bitter. "And I sat there, and I smiled, and I played my part. And the whole time, all I could think about was you. About this apartment, about your laugh, about the way you make me feel like I can actually breathe."

Liana's expression softened slightly, but she didn't uncross her arms. "That's nice, Ava. But feelings aren't enough. I need action. I need you to actually choose me, not just say you will."

"Then tell me what to do. Tell me how to prove it to you."

"I can't tell you that! You have to figure it out yourself! That's the whole point!" Liana's voice rose, frustration breaking through. "I can't keep being the one pushing you, begging you to be brave. You have to want it for yourself."

"I do want it—"

"Do you? Because from where I'm standing, you want me, and you want them, and you're trying to figure out how to have both. And Ava, that's not possible. It's never been possible."

Tears streamed down Ava's face now. "So what are you saying? That we're done? That there's no chance for us?"

Liana closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, they were bright with unshed tears. "I'm saying I can't do this anymore. I can't be your secret or your backup plan or the person you come to when being dutiful gets too hard. I deserve better than that. I deserve someone who's proud to love me, who's willing to fight for me, who won't abandon me when things get difficult."

"I'm here now. I came here, doesn't that count for something?"

"It's a start. But Ava, a visit in the middle of the night isn't enough. I need you to actually change your life. To stop lying to your parents. To stop seeing Thabo. To stop pretending to be someone you're not." Liana's voice broke. "I need you to choose yourself. And until you can do that, we don't have anything."

The finality in her words hit Ava like a physical blow. "So that's it? You're giving up on us?"

"I'm not giving up. I'm setting a boundary. I'm saying that I can't be with someone who's still living in the closet, who's still choosing comfort over truth. When you're ready—really ready—to live honestly, to build a life that's actually yours, then come find me. But until then—" Liana opened the door. "Until then, I think you should go."

Ava didn't move. She couldn't. Because walking out that door felt like giving up, like admitting defeat.

"Please," she whispered. "Please don't do this."

"I'm not the one doing this, Ava. You are. You've been doing this from the start." Liana's voice was gentle now, sad rather than angry. "And I love you. God, I love you so much it hurts. But I can't save you. You have to save yourself."

Ava walked to the door on legs that felt like they might give out. At the threshold, she turned back one more time. "What if I can't? What if I'm not brave enough?"

Liana's smile was infinitely sad. "Then I guess you'll have a very comfortable, very miserable life with Thabo. And I'll move on. And we'll both spend the rest of our lives wondering what might have been."

The door closed softly behind Ava, and she stood in the hallway, listening to the sound of Liana crying on the other side.

And she knew—really knew—that this was it.

The final ultimatum.

Change everything, or lose Liana forever.

Choose yourself, or lose yourself.

Three months until engagement. Three months to become someone brave.

The question was: Could she do it?