Forbidden Devotion

Chapter 22: The Broken Anchor.

Chapter 22: The Broken Anchor.

​ The ride back to the hostel was a blur of passing streetlights and suffocating silence. Elena leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the car window, letting the tears fall freely now that she was away from Marco’s house. Every bump in the road felt like a physical jolt to her chest, breaking down the final remnants of the girl who had spent months trying to salvage a hollow relationship.

​When she finally pushed the door to her room open, the quiet sanctuary of her space did nothing to ease the ache. Tasha was sitting up on her own bunk, her laptop glowing in the dim light. She took one look at Elena’s tear-stained face and red eyes, and the laptop screen was instantly snapped shut.

​"I knew it," Tasha breathed, stepping down from her bed and pulling Elena into a tight, fierce hug. "He did it again, didn't he?"

​Elena couldn't even speak. She just nodded against her friend’s shoulder, a ragged sob escaping her throat. She sat on the edge of her bed as the whole story spilled out—the pathetic lie about the cousin’s girlfriend, the singlet and shorts, the excuse about his leg, and the ultimate humiliation of being asked to come back the next morning after the bed was cleared.

​"He was using me, Tasha," Elena whispered, her voice cracking as she wiped her eyes. "The whole time. The argument two days ago, the accusations... he just wanted me gone so he could bring her in. And I felt so guilty. I’ve been tearing myself apart trying to be a good girlfriend to him while keeping my distance from..."

​She trailed off, but Tasha knew exactly who she was talking about.

​"You need to let that garbage go, Elena," Tasha said firmly, her eyes fierce with protective anger. "Marco doesn't respect you. He never did. He uses you as a safety net when he wants stability, and throws you out when he wants entertainment. You are worth so much more than a rescheduled appointment in his calendar."

​After Tasha finally went back to her bed, leaving Elena alone with her thoughts, the room settled into that familiar, heavy post-midnight silence. Elena quickly went to the bathroom, washed her face with cold water, and cleared her throat repeatedly. She forced her breathing into a steady, rhythmic pattern, determined to lock away the pain of the evening. Julian shouldn't know about what had just happened. He was carrying enough spiritual weight within those seminary walls; she refused to burden him with the sordid, messy details of her failing relationship with Marco.

​She sat back on her mattress and waited. Because she was safely in her own room, her phone wasn't on Do Not Disturb, and she didn't have to delete a single line of message history before answering. She was completely free to pick up.

​Right on cue, as the clock ticked past 1:30 AM, her phone began to vibrate silently in her palm. The screen lit up with Julian’s name.

​Elena took one last deep breath, swallowing the lump in her throat, and swiped the screen to bring the phone to her ear.

​"Elena?" Julian’s voice came through, instantly cutting through the dark room with its familiar, deep warmth.

​"Hey, Julian," she responded softly. Her voice didn't show she was crying at all; she kept it perfectly even, steady, and light, masking the storm that had just ravaged her emotional world.

​"How is the revision going tonight?" Julian asked, his tone relaxing as he heard her speak. Through the line, she could hear the quiet stillness of his cubicle, a world away from the betrayal she had just witnessed. "I hope you aren't pushing yourself too hard. I spent time reviewing the timetable you sent me, and I've been keeping track of your prep days."

​"I'm managing, Julian. Just trying to cover as much ground as possible before the two weeks are up," she replied, a faint, weary smile touching her lips in the darkness.

​As she sat there, comforted by the steady, unyielding devotion of a man who believed she was his absolute soulmate, the bitter irony of her life settled heavily over her chest. The man who was supposedly her symbol of stability in the physical world had just humiliated her and used her as an afterthought, while the man who belonged entirely to God was the only one offering her a genuine sanctuary—even if it was just through a phone screen past midnight. She clutched the device tighter against her ear, keeping her secrets safe, caught between the relief of his voice and the tragic knowledge that their midnights were the only peace she had left.

Through the digital line, Julian’s voice remained a steady, comforting anchor, completely unaware of the wreckage she had left behind at Marco's apartment. He began recounting a ridiculous incident that had occurred during their church history lecture earlier that afternoon—how one of the normally stoic, overly serious senior seminarians had completely lost his footing while carrying a stack of heavy hymnals, sending them cascading down the stone altar steps in the middle of the rector's solemn address.

​Julian imitated the rector’s dramatic, horrified gasp so perfectly that Elena couldn't help it; a genuine, breathy laugh escaped her lips, completely breaking the heavy tension that had been gripping her chest. Hearing her laugh, Julian’s tone softened into something incredibly warm and affectionate. They stayed on the line for another hour, his gentle teasing and lighthearted banter slowly chipping away at her sorrow, acting as a soothing balm on her wounded pride. For the first time all evening, the suffocating weight of Marco's betrayal lifted, replaced by the effortless joy she only ever felt when she was connected to Julian.

​By the time they whispered their goodbyes and the call ended, Elena actually felt better. The hollow ache in her stomach had subsided into a quiet calm. She set her phone down on the mattress, a faint, lingering smile still touching her lips, though it was quickly tempered by the realization that her relief had come from a man she was forbidden to keep.

​The fragile silence of the room was suddenly broken by a muffled, ragged sob coming from the opposite corner.

​Elena froze, tilting her head to listen. It wasn't Tasha; her bed was quiet. The sound was coming from the lower bunk across the room, where her other roommate, Belinda, slept.

​Gently slipping out of her sheets, Elena padded softly across the cold tiled floor. As she drew closer, she could see Belinda curled into a tight fetal position, her face buried in her pillow to drown out the sound of her crying. Her shoulders were shaking violently, her phone clutched in her hand, its screen casting a harsh, tear-streaked light across her face.

​"Belinda?" Elena whispered, kneeling down beside the bunk and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Hey... what’s wrong?"

​Belinda started slightly, wiping her face frantically with the back of her hand as she sat up, though it was entirely impossible to hide her distress. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot, mirroring the exact state Elena’s had been in just a couple of hours prior.

​"It’s over, Elena," Belinda choked out, her voice cracking under the weight of an immense heartbreak. She held up her phone, revealing a string of cold, dismissive text messages from her own boyfriend. "He’s breaking up with me. Out of nowhere. He said he needs space, but Tasha saw him out with someone else at the campus buttery yesterday. I didn't want to believe her, but tonight he finally admitted it. He’s been seeing another girl behind my back while I was here worrying about our future."

​A profound, bittersweet wave of empathy washed over Elena as she climbed onto the edge of the mattress, pulling Belinda into a comforting embrace. It was a staggering, almost surreal revelation. While she had been navigating her own quiet hell with Marco’s lies and the girl in his singlet, her own roommate had been sitting in the exact same room, drowning in the exact same ocean of betrayal. The hostel room, which usually felt like a bustling hub of academic ambition and youth, had transformed into a shared sanctuary of heartbreak.

​"I’m so sorry, Belinda," Elena murmured, rubbing her friend's back as Belinda wept openly against her shoulder. "I know exactly how it feels. Trust me, I know."

​As she held her crying roommate in the dim light of the hostel room, Elena looked out the small window at the dark campus horizon. The contrast of her night settled heavily in her mind. Belinda was completely broken, completely undone by the harsh reality of a terrestrial relationship that had fallen apart. Elena was going through the exact same heartbreak with Marco, yet she had been granted a temporary, beautiful reprieve. She had Julian.

​She realized then how incredibly blessed—and cursed—she truly was. Marco had shattered her, but Julian’s late-night call had stitched her back together with laughter and whispered affection, even if only for a few hours. She was surviving on a love that existed in the shadows, helping her roommate heal from a worldly breakup, while she herself clung to a divine secret that kept her heart beating through the dark.