Page 41 of His Elder

"Good. Let's close with a hymn."

The walk back to the apartment was suffocating. Eli kept the regulation three paces ahead, his shoulders rigid. I wanted to say something—anything—but the words lodged in my throat.

Inside, he went straight to the bedroom and closed the door.

I stood in the kitchenette, staring at the peeling linoleum. Kempton's words echoed in my mind.

Spiritually weak.

Dragged down.

Unequally yoked.

I'd spent my entire life trying to be good enough. Perfect enough. Worthy enough. I'd followed every rule, said every prayer, studied every scripture. I'd sacrificed friendships, hobbies, sleep—anything that might distract me from the path laid out before me. I'd come on this mission believing it would fix me, that two years of service would burn away the parts of me that were wrong.

But I wasn't fixed. I was still broken. And now I was being judged for it.

Kempton thought I was weak because of Eli. He thought Eli was the problem, the influence dragging me down. But he was wrong.

Eli wasn't the problem.

I was.

I'd always been the problem. The flaw wasn't in my companion or my circumstances. It was inme.In thepart of me that looked at another man and felt desire. In the part of me that had let Eli touch me and hadwantedit. In the part of me that still wanted it.

I sank onto the couch, my head in my hands.

The "perfect" path was already destroyed. Kempton knew it, even if he didn't know the specifics. I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. He thought I was compromised. And he was right.

I'd lost my worthiness. I'd lost my obedience. I'd lost the approval of my mission president, my district leader, probably God Himself.

And for what?

For one moment of pleasure? For the memory of Eli's hands on my skin, his mouth on me, his voice telling me I wasn't broken?

I closed my eyes, and the shame crashed over me like a wave. But beneath it, something else stirred. Something darker and more dangerous.

Was it worth it?

The question terrified me.

Because the answer wasn't no.

Dinner was silent. Eli reheated leftover rice and beans, dividing them onto two plates without a word. We ate at the table, our eyes fixed on our food.

"Kempton's an asshole," Eli said finally.

I didn't respond.

"You know that, right? He's a petty, insecure asshole who gets off on making people feel small."

"He's the district leader."

"That doesn't make him right."

I set down my fork, my appetite gone. "He's right about me."

Eli looked up sharply. "What?"