Forbidden Devotion

Chapter 5: A Bitter Departure

Chapter Five: A Bitter Departure

​ The December air still held the lingering scent of pine and woodsmoke from Christmas, but for Elena, the festive season was already shifting toward a new horizon. The holiday with Marco had been a blur of intimacy and whispered promises, yet the pull of family—and the tradition of New Year’s with her mother—was a debt she intended to pay.

​Marco, however, was far from supportive. He paced the small floor of the apartment, his shadows long against the wall as he watched her pack.

​"Stay," he muttered, his voice thick with a possessive edge he barely tried to hide. "The year should start here. With me."

​Elena zipped her bag with a definitive snap, looking up at him with a mixture of affection and resolve. "It’s only for a few days, Marco. My mom is expecting me. I’ve already insisted, and my mind is made up."

​Seeing he couldn't win the argument, Marco’s frustration shifted into a sharp, protective caution. He stepped close, taking her chin in his hand. "The men in that town... stay away from them. I don't want them looking at you."

​Elena let out a soft, melodic laugh, the tension breaking just enough for her to offer a playful smile. "Don't be ridiculous," she teased, leaning into him. "The guys back there aren't my type. You know exactly who is."

​A muscle in Marco’s jaw tightened, but he finally nodded. He insisted on driving her to the transport park himself, his grip tight on the steering wheel the entire way.

​The park was a chaotic symphony of shouting drivers and exhaust fumes. Marco waited until she had secured her seat in the cab, his eyes scanning the crowd like a sentry. Through the open window, he gave her one final, lingering look—a silent reminder of his warning—before the engine roared to life.

​As the car pulled away, Elena watched his figure shrink in the rearview mirror, heading toward a new year that felt increasingly heavy with the weight of their devotion.

The physical distance between them did nothing to quiet Marco’s mind. If anything, the miles only fed his paranoia.

​Several times a day, Elena’s phone would chime with a video call request. Marco didn't just want to hear her voice; he wanted to see her surroundings, to scan the background for shadows or faces he didn't recognize. He’d ask who was in the next room or why she hadn’t answered his previous text within minutes. The weight of his insecurity was suffocating, a heavy cloak she had to wear even while trying to enjoy her mother’s company. Yet, every time she saw his face on the screen—distorted by worry and longing—her heart softened. She loved him with a fierce, exhausting intensity that made her justify his control as a symptom of his devotion.

​However, being at her mother's house offered one precious luxury: privacy.

​Away from Marco’s watchful eyes and the constant threat of him snooping through her phone while she slept, Elena found herself leaning on Julian more than ever. Their digital connection became her sanctuary. They talked steadily, their messages flowing without the frantic need to delete them immediately after reading.

​But then, Julian dropped the news that shifted the ground beneath her.

​"I’m heading back to the seminary soon, Elena," he told her during one of their long, quiet exchanges.

​The words hit her with a physical ache. The seminary—a place of silence, discipline, and a path that felt designed to take him further away from her world.

​"So soon?" she replied, her thumbs hovering over the screen.

​A deep sense of gloom settled over her. She thought about the months ahead—the long stretches of time where they would be reduced to mere voices on a line, or words on a screen, without the hope of a shared glance or a physical presence. The freedom she felt at her mother's house suddenly felt fragile, overshadowed by the realization that while she was hiding from Marco’s jealousy, she was also losing the one person who truly understood the secret parts of her soul.

Elena’s fingers trembled as she typed, the urgency of his departure making her chest tighten.

​"When will you be back?" she asked, the words appearing on the screen almost as fast as the thought crossed her mind. "When is your next holiday?"

​The reply came after a pause that felt like an eternity. "It’s going to be a while, Elena. Probably not until July."

​"July?" The word felt cold. "What about Easter? Aren't you coming home for the break?"

​"I'm not sure yet," Julian replied. "The schedule is strict this year. There’s a lot of work to be done."

​The reality of the months of silence ahead crashed down on her. Before she could filter her thoughts or remind herself of the dangerous line she was treading, the words poured out of her.

​"I’ll miss you, Julian."

​As soon as the message sent, a wave of panic hit her. She stared at the screen, her heart hammering against her ribs. She wasn't supposed to say that. She was with Marco; she was committed; and Julian was bound to a calling that had no room for her.

​"I'm sorry," she typed quickly, her breath hitching. "I shouldn't have said that. Forget I said it."

​She bit her lip, staring at the "typing" bubbles on Julian’s end. She felt a sharp pang of grief, realizing in that moment—perhaps more clearly than ever—that Julian would never truly be hers. He belonged to the church, to his vows, and to a future that didn't include her.

​Then, the message popped up.

​"It’s fine, Elena," Julian wrote. Then, a moment later: "I’ll miss you too."

​The simple admission felt like both a gift and a curse, a quiet spark of shared longing that made the upcoming months of separation feel even longer.