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“No,” I said softly. “I’m not trying to pretend I’m still the girl who thought purity was a badge. I’m trying to find something new. A way of being that doesn’t throw God out just because I want you, too.”
His jaw worked slightly, like he was trying to find the right thing to say and coming up short. I didn’t need him to. Not right then.
“I want to believe I can have both,” I said. “Faith and desire. A body and a soul that don’t cancel each other out. You and Him. Love and lust and light and darkness, all together.”
He was quiet for a beat, then lowered his head, pressing his lips to the inside of my wrist.
“I think that sounds like the truth,” he murmured. “Like maybe it’s what we were always supposed to be.”
I nodded once. Then closed my eyes.
And right there—bare, breathless—we bowed our heads together, our foreheads touching.
I prayed out loud.
Not the way I used to.
Not polished. Not rehearsed. Not holy.
Just real.
“God,” I whispered, voice shaking, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this or who to trust or what comes next. But I want to believe You’re stillhere. I want to believe You can see me—us—even now, and not turn away.”
Noah’s thumb stroked slow circles at my side.
I took a breath. “If You’re still listening … just help me hold onto the part of myself that still wants to believe. The part that still wants something good. Something true.”
My eyes stayed shut, lashes damp.
“I don’t want to live in fear. Not of the world, not of the people hunting Noah and his brothers, and not of You. I was raised to think You only saw me when I was clean. But I’m not clean now. I’m messy and angry and raw, and I don’t even know what this is yet, but I know it matters. I know it’s real. And I think You made me to feel things this deeply. Even this.”
Noah’s hand stilled on my waist. Not gone. Just quiet. Listening.
“I know what I’ve been told my whole life—that a good woman saves her body, keeps her voice soft, her knees closed, her prayers polished. But I don’t want to be that girl anymore. I want to be real with You. And real means I’m here, naked, bruised, bleeding on the inside, in love with a man I maybe shouldn’t trust but who makes me feel more seen than I ever have. And I need You to meet me here.”
My voice cracked.
“I need You to remind me that grace isn’t just for the polished and the perfect. That it’s for people like me, too. Girls who run. Girls who break. Girls who open their legs and their hearts and don’t know which one will be held and which one will be left.”
I paused, breath trembling. “Help me find the pieces of my faith that still work. Help me build something new with them.”
My fingers curled around Noah’s arm, grounding myself there.
“And if this thing between us is meant to grow—if it’s meant to last—then show me how to hold it without losing myself. Without losing You.”
The silence that followed wasn’t empty.
It felt full. Weighty. Like Someone was listening.
I didn’t open my eyes right away. I just breathed. Just let it settle.
And when I finally did, Noah was still watching me.
Something in his expression cracked wide open—like my words had done more than reach heaven.
Like maybe they’d reached him, too.
He didn’t speak at first. Just looked at me like I was something sacred. Something rare. Like he wasn’t sure if touching me again might break the spell.