The morning sun bathed the road in soft gold as Lynette walked beside her mother, her hand looped tightly through her mother's arm like a small child.
She leaned against her just a little, breathing in the scent of her perfume.
Lavender and soap.
She used to hate that smell. Used to roll her eyes at the floral prints and the thick cardigan her mom wore like a uniform. Used to walk several steps ahead, pretending not to be part of the same family.
But now… she couldn't get close enough.
She squeezed her mother's arm gently, feeling the warmth under her skin.
How did I never notice how good she smelled? How safe did it feel, walking like this? "This smells like home."
Her mother turned slightly, glancing at her with surprise and curiosity.
"What's gotten into you today?" she asked with a half-laugh. "You're practically glued to me."
Lynette just smiled, a soft, secretive smile.
"Nothing. I'm just happy."
Her mother gave her a sideways look, a little worried, but also quietly pleased.
Behind them, Meira was dragging her feet, arms crossed again, suspicion engraved into every part of her face. She eyed Lynette like she was watching someone else in her sister's skin.
Lynette turned, grinning.
"Meira, you should enjoy this moment," she said, her tone sincere but playful.
"You know… one day you might regret not appreciating it."
Meira rolled her eyes. "You sound like a grandma."
But Lynette's smile didn't fade. She looked ahead, her eyes soft but sharp with clarity. No more regrets.
She had a plan now, a path.
Be the daughter her mother deserved. No more shouting. No more leaving. And definitely, take better care of her. She remembered how her mother's illness began, the stress, the heartbreak, the late nights. Lynette would do everything to change that.
Make this final school year peaceful. No drama. No more pain. No more falling into the same mess that ruined everything the first time. No more, Ael. She winced, just thinking of his name. That jerk.
Make real friends.
She wouldn't end up alone this time. She wouldn't push people away out of fear or pride. And most of all, do what she loves. Live for herself.
No more bending to what others think. No more wasting time.
Right, Lynette? You can do this. She nodded slightly to herself.
Lost in thought, she didn't realize how far they had walked until the white church building came into view, sunlight hitting the stained glass in bursts of colour.
And then she saw her. Seena.
Standing outside the gate, watering plants in her front yard, right where her house always was, right beside the church. Her best friend. The girl she had lost years ago over a fight she barely remembered anymore.
Lynette's breath caught.
But instead of anger or guilt, her chest filled with something unexpected, relief.
She was alive. She was here. She was smiling, like no time had passed.
Seena spotted her and grinned.
"Where are you going, looking like an old lady?" she called out, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Lynette burst into laughter, pure, warm, real laughter, the kind she hadn't felt in years.
She didn't hesitate. She ran to her, arms flinging around her in a tight hug that startled them both.
"Whoa! Did you hit your head or something?" Seena said, laughing nervously. "Didn't we just hang out yesterday?"
Lynette hugged her tighter.
"I missed you," she whispered, too softly for Seena to hear clearly.
Then, pulling back, she smiled.
"I'm going to church. I'll come by later."
Seena blinked, stunned. "You? Church? Okay, you definitely hit your head."
"See you later," Lynette said again, giving a small wave before turning.
The church loomed ahead.
Her fingers tightened around her mother's arm as they stepped through the open gates. She hadn't been inside in so long. The nerves stirred in her stomach, but not from fear.
I'm not the same girl who walked away from this place.
She looked up at the sky, the stained glass glowing above.
This time… I'm walking in with hope.
As soon as Lynette stepped inside the church, it was like the air shifted. Heads turned. Whispers fluttered. A few gasps echoed under the arched ceiling. Oh no, she thought. They've spotted the rare church visitor in the wild.
She tried to keep walking beside her mother, pretending she didn't feel all the eyes burning into her back. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her white shawl.
From the bench near the front, she heard a familiar voice:
"Lynette?!"
Her aunt stood up, her floral purse almost tumbling off her lap, a wide grin on her face.
"Oh my goodness, it's so good to see you here!"
Before Lynette could respond, a pair of arms wrapped around hers, her younger cousin giggling like they were at a sleepover instead of church.
"How come you're in church today? Are you okay? Are you dying?"
"What? No!" Lynette whispered, stunned. "I'm just… here."
Her cousin blinked at her suspiciously.
Around them, people were staring like she had grown wings. Some expressions were just curious. Others looked… annoyed? Jealous, even.
And Lynette, awkward, nervous, and sweating under her shawl, could only force a tight smile.
This is worse than dying. I'm a walking headline.
"Rebellious Girl Returns: World Shaken."
Outside, in the garden just past the stained glass hall, Rowan sat on a bench, tuning a guitar while two of his friends bickered about what song to perform for the upcoming youth trip on Saturday.
"We can't do Raise Me Up again," one of them muttered. "We already did that last month."
Rowan wasn't really listening. His mind was somewhere else, maybe on the melody, maybe on nothing. Just then, a third friend ran up, out of breath.
"Dude, Rowan. Your rumoured future wife is here today."
The bench went silent.
Rowan's eyes snapped up, sharp, annoyed, unamused. His glare could've cut through steel. The guy held up his hands in mock surrender, already backing away.
"Okay, okay! No need to go all murder-eyes on me."
Rowan didn't reply. He just looked through the garden window toward the entrance of the prayer hall. Something flickered in his expression.
Meanwhile, back inside, Lynette was sinking into social quicksand.
Why did I come again? She thought, smiling at her aunt, nodding at another family friend, and gently pulling her cousin off her arm. Right. New beginning. Fresh start. No regrets.
She was about to quietly sneak into the bench when a loud, familiar voice called out.
"Are you going to make my daughter-in-law run away with those glares, hmm?"
Lynette froze mid-step.
"...Daughter-in-law?"
She turned around and there she was.
Mrs. Navarro. Rowan's mother. Radiant, elegant, and entirely too enthusiastic.
She pulled Lynette into a warm hug.
"It's been so long, sweetheart. I'm so happy to see you here! You look beautiful today."
Lynette laughed nervously, caught in the whirlwind.
Oh no… I remember now.
Years ago, when they were just kids, their parents had promised them to each other as some kind of joke or wishful thinking. At the time, it was cute. Harmless. But then she stopped coming to church. And she hadn't seen Rowan in years.
Do I even remember what he looks like?
She glanced toward the garden, catching a glimpse of a tall figure with a guitar. Was that him?
Her mom and Mrs. Navarro were already deep in conversation, their words floating somewhere between wedding jokes and old stories.
Lynette stood between them, smiling politely, but her thoughts were pondering.
This was not part of the plan.
I just wanted to rewrite my story. Quietly. Slowly.
Now I'm someone's imaginary fiancée, and I haven't even started school yet.
She sighed.
"God, I hope this isn't one of your tests…"
Just then, Father Lucca appeared at the front, his warm voice cutting through the whispers.
"Good morning, everyone. We'll begin today's prayer in five minutes. Please take your seats."
Lynette exhaled with relief and slipped toward the bench. As she sat down, she couldn't help but glance one more time toward the garden.
The figure with the guitar was gone.
# "The First Prayer"
The church was bathed in soft, golden light. The stained-glass windows filtered the sun into colours of sapphire and crimson, casting quiet patterns across the wooden bench.
As everyone settled in, the usual murmur of voices faded into silence.
Lynette sat between her mother and sister, clutching the small, worn Bible she hadn't touched in years. Her shawl draped loosely over her shoulders, and her fingers trembled slightly as she opened to the page Father Lucca had announced.
But her eyes weren't reading. They were filled with tears.
Not from sadness, this time, from something deeper. A quiet, overwhelming gratitude that she hadn't felt in a very long time.
She closed her eyes.
Thank you… Thank you for giving me this. This second chance.
I won't take it for granted. Not this time. I'll appreciate everything, my family, my home, every tiny detail I used to ignore or hate.
I will protect Mom. I will be the daughter she deserves.
And I will make up for every cruel word, every selfish act, every day I disappeared from this house.
I promise… I'll live a life I won't regret.
A tear rolled down her cheek. She quickly wiped it before her mom could see, but her heart felt lighter than it had in years.
Meanwhile, outside the main prayer hall, standing beneath the tall stone columns, Rowan leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, listening to the sermon echo through the hallway. His guitar rested beside him.
He wasn't paying attention to the words. He was watching Lynette.
From his angle, he had a clear view through the side window that framed the prayer hall. She sat still, head bowed, hands folded over her Bible, like someone who belonged there. Like someone who had never left.
His brows furrowed slightly.
That's not the Lynette I remember.
She never prayed like that before. She barely even came.
She always looked like she wanted to burn the whole church down just for fun.
But today… she looked peaceful. Serene. Changed.
"What happened to her?"
He didn't realize he was staring so intently, so lost in his thoughts, until a sharp pinch on his arm startled him.
"Ouch, what the hell?" he whispered.
His friend smirked beside him, lowering his voice.
"You keep staring at her like she's the second coming. Calm down, lover boy."
Rowan scoffed and looked away, clearly irritated, but not denying it.
Inside the church, Lynette slowly opened her eyes.
She didn't notice him. Not yet.
But someone else noticed him.
Leaning by the entrance of the church, Mysha, dressed in her Sunday best, watched Rowan with a tight jaw.
Her eyes followed his gaze, then landed on Lynette.
A spark of jealousy flickered in her eyes.
She bit her lower lip, not in sadness, but frustration.
She had watched Rowan keep his distance from everyone. Reserved. Focused only on his music. But the way he was looking at Lynette…
It wasn't anything.
Mysha's eyes narrowed, and she adjusted her earrings as if to distract herself. But she didn't look away.
Unlike the main prayer hall filled with elderly worshippers and parents, the church's youth service was already finished early in the morning. Most of the teenagers and young adults, including Rowan, Mysha, and the rest of the youth group, waited outside near the garden behind the church.
A shaded stone path led to benches beneath a big tree, where guitars and sheet music were scattered on laps and tables. It was their usual gathering place, half sacred, half social.
Rowan sat with his guitar resting on his knee, brows furrowed in silent thought. He hadn't spoken much since the morning, his eyes occasionally drifting toward the stained glass window where the adults were still finishing their prayers.
Mysha, dressed in a sleek lavender top and flowing white skirt, noticed his silence. She stepped closer, brushing imaginary dust from her blouse before leaning in.
"Rowan," she said sweetly, placing a hand lightly on his arm. "Did you decide which song we're doing for the youth trip next week?"
He didn't answer.
She blinked and leaned closer. "Rowan?"
Still nothing.
Annoyed, she gently tugged on his sleeve.
"Rowan."
His jaw clenched as he snapped out of his trance. His expression darkened with irritation.
"I haven't. Ask the captain," he muttered flatly, shrugging off her hand and standing up.
Then he walked away.
Mysha stood frozen for a moment, blinking at his back, her lips slowly curling in silent rage. Her eyes followed where he had been looking moments ago, straight at Lynette, who was now stepping out of the prayer hall beside her mom, quietly taking a blessing from Father Lucca.
You've got to be kidding me, she thought bitterly.
Inside the main hall, the older church members began preparing for their duties in the garden, setting up lunch, trimming plants. The younger youth were told to stay inside the hall with the children.
There was light chatter, laughter, and a bit of chaos as the younger kids ran around, some playing tag, others chasing bubbles from a leftover birthday party.
The youth group leaders, the oldest among the teens, were
stressed.
"We have to practice for Saturday," said Aaron, one of the captains, flipping through his guitar chords. "But someone also needs to keep an eye on the kids. They'll wreck the place at this rate."
"Let's take turns," suggested Ella, another leader and also Lynette's older cousin. "Half of us rehearse, the rest manage the kids. We'll swap after thirty minutes."
"Okay. So… who wants to go first?" Aaron asked, glancing around.
No one raised their hand.
Everyone shifted uncomfortably, looking away.
Then a clear voice cut through the hesitation.
"I will," Lynette said, raising her hand gently. "I'll take the first shift. You guys go ahead and practice."
Everyone turned toward her in surprise. Some looked puzzled. A few girls exchanged glances. Even Aaron raised an eyebrow, but then smiled, clearly grateful.
"Really? Thanks, Lynette. That helps a lot."
She nodded with a small smile. What they didn't know was, this was familiar ground for her. After high school, Lynette had worked as a daycare teacher. She knew how to handle a dozen restless children like a conductor knew their orchestra.
Also, in this way, she could escape from the crowd and have some fun with children.
She stood up and clapped her hands lightly.
"Alright, everyone, all eyes on me if you want to have some fun!"
The younger kids froze.
A few paused mid-run.
A few more turned toward her, curiosity lighting their faces.
"We're gonna play a game," she grinned, walking to the center of the hall like it was her stage. "It's called 'Magic Mirror.' I'll be the mirror, you have to copy everything I do. Ready?"
Excited chatter burst across the room. The kids began to gather around her, forming a rough circle.
From the other side of the room, Rowan leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, silently watching.
There was a strange lightness in his eyes.
Lynette moved gracefully, animated yet gentle, her expressions silly but warm. The kids copied her, laughing as she exaggerated her movements.
She's not the same, Rowan thought.
"What happened to her?"
He hadn't realized how long he'd been watching until Aaron nudged him with a smirk.
"You good, man? You've been watching her like you're writing a love song in your head."
Rowan scowled and looked away.
"Shut up."
But even as he said it, he couldn't help but glance back.
And Mysha, standing not far behind, saw it all. Her nails dug slightly into her palm as she stared at Lynette, eyes cold and unreadable.
An hour had passed, but the tension in the youth group circle had only grown heavier. The song list was still unresolved.
"We can't just not perform," Aaron sighed, flipping his notebook closed in frustration. "Last year we won. Expectations are high. We can't repeat the same set either."
"Everyone's going to compare us to last year," added Ella. "We need something fresh, something that feels sincere."
Their voices dropped as they huddled closer, papers scattered across the bench, instruments untouched.
A few feet away, Lynette sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by tiny, slumbering bodies. The kids were fast asleep, each tucked gently under blankets she'd found in the church closet. Her soft humming had faded, replaced by peaceful breathing and the occasional sleepy sigh from a child.
She smiled gently at them, brushing a strand of hair from one of the girl's faces.
They're so full of life, she thought. So easy to love.
It had been so long since she had laughed like this, played like this, felt useful like this.
She quietly stood, picked up her water bottle and Bible from the corner, and began walking toward the exit. She hadn't planned to stay longer. But then she heard them.
The youth captains, still arguing in low, tense voices.
"It's like nothing feels right," Aaron muttered. "Nothing hits like last year's closer. We need something meaningful… something people will remember."
Lynette paused in mid-step.
She hesitated.
Part of her wanted to leave unnoticed, like she always used to. Quiet exits were her specialty.
But then another part of her, the new Lynette, the one who had promised herself to live without regret, spoke up.
She turned around and walked back toward them.
"If you guys don't mind… can I suggest a song?" she said, her voice calm, almost shy.
All heads turned toward her.
Aaron blinked. "Lynette? Where are the kids?"
She gestured toward the hallway.
"Asleep," she said, smiling. "They were exhausted after a few games and stories. They are taking a nap."
"Wait… what?" Aaron said, rising halfway. "You made all those kids fall asleep? That's impossible."
She explained. "This is kind of my thing."
Everyone stared.
Even Rowan, who had watched her for most of the hour in silence, looked mildly stunned.
Aaron sat back down, rubbing his head. "Okay, wow. That's... amazing."
"So, what song were you thinking?" Ella asked, raising a brow curiously.
Lynette stepped forward and said softly,
"There's a song I learned a long time ago. It's called 'This I Believe (The Creed)'. It's simple but powerful. I think it could be perfect."
Aaron and the others exchanged glances.
Rowan straightened slightly.
"You know it?" Aaron asked skeptically.
Instead of answering, Lynette walked over to the guitar resting against the bench. She picked it up, adjusted the strap over her shoulder like second nature, and sat down on the edge of the platform.
With a quiet breath, she strummed the opening chords.
The room went still.
And then, with a voice like soft wind brushing through stained glass, she sang.
"I believe in God our Father,
I believe in Christ the Son,
I believe in the Holy Spirit,b
Our God is three in One..."
Every note was sincere.
Every word poured from a place deeper than memory. Her voice trembled not with nerves, but with truth, with gratitude, with pain, with the beauty of starting over.
Heads slowly turned. Conversations halted. Even those not involved gathered near.
Rowan stood, his jaw tightening, not from anger, but from emotion. Something in her voice hit a nerve. He had never seen her like this. He didn't know this version of her existed.
When the final chord faded, there was a moment of heavy silence.
Then Aaron spoke, breathless.
"Where have you been hiding?"
Lynette laughed softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Nowhere. Just… trying to be someone better."
Aaron clapped his hands, grinning.
"That's it. That's the song. You're singing it with us, no arguments."
Ella nodded, visibly moved. "We need that voice. That heart."
Lynette looked down, overwhelmed, but also… warm. For the first time in her lifetime, she felt like she was seen, not for who she had been, but for who she might become.
"Okay," she said quietly, her smile reaching her eyes. "I'd love to."
From behind the group, Rowan watched her quietly.
He didn't say a word.
But in his chest, something shifted.
# "Dinner at the End of the Day"
The soft clang of utensils and the aroma of garlic and herbs filled the small, cozy kitchen.
The sun had begun to set, casting golden light across the table as Lynette helped her mom serve dinner. She placed a bowl of lentil soup on the table, then hurried back to grab the flatbreads from the pan.
"You really don't need to help, honey," her mom said, smiling, already setting glasses down. Lynette grinned. "I want to. Besides, I still remember how you like things arranged on the table. Some habits stick, you know?"
Her mom gave her a curious look. "You're in a good mood today."
Lynette slid into her seat, eyes bright.
"You won't believe how today went."
She launched into a play-by-play of everything that had happened at church, how she watched over the kids, how they actually fell asleep, how the youth group couldn't decide on a song, and how she ended up performing "This I Believe" for the entire group.
She even did a dramatic act of Aaron's shocked face and Rowan's stunned silence, making her mom laugh out loud.
"So now," she said, sipping her soup, "they want me to come to practice every day this week until Saturday. Isn't that wild? Me, the girl who never even went near the choir."
Her mom blinked, watching her daughter with wonder.
Lynette was chatty today. Her eyes sparkled, her words tumbled over each other with joy and excitement. She looked… alive.
This wasn't the quiet, distant Lynette she had grown used to, who barely came home, who only gave short answers, who walked with invisible weight on her shoulders.
This was the Lynette she hadn't seen since she was a little girl.
She placed her spoon down gently and looked at her daughter, her heart full.
"You've changed," her mom said softly.
Lynette paused, her expression softening.
"I'm trying," she said after a moment. "I don't want to waste this chance. I want to live better. Happier. For you. For all of us."
Her mother's eyes welled up with tears, but she quickly wiped them away and gave a big, grateful smile.
"God is good," she whispered. "Thank you."
Lynette reached across the table and held her mother's hand.
"I promise… I'm going to make everything right."
The moment hung there, quiet and warm, hope blooming like a quiet spring after a long, cold winter.
Outside, the stars began to appear.
Inside, for the first time in years, it felt like home again.
The cozy hum of conversation filled the dining room as Lynette, her mom, grandparents, Meira, and even Toto the dog all sat around the table.
The air smelled like fresh rice and the slight floral scent of her grandmother's favourite oil. The ceiling fan spun gently above them, brushing warm air across their cheeks. Outside, cicadas buzzed lazily as the sun dipped below the hills.
Her grandfather sipped from his don't know how many cups of tea, seated in his favourite chair that peeked halfway into the kitchen from the balcony door. He chuckled softly at a joke her mom made, while her grandmother, with Toto curled in her lap like royalty, laughed so hard her eyes disappeared into soft wrinkles.
Meira, still sulking earlier from being denied screen time, now joined the table, her arms crossed but secretly munching on a flatbread under the table, pretending no one noticed.
"I saw that," Lynette teased, nudging her little sister with her elbow.
"Snitch," Meira mumbled, but a small smile tugged at her lips.
Her mom glanced between the two of them and smiled softly. For once, no one was raising their voices. No one was distant. There was peace in the room, light and warm like the evening sun outside.
Lynette looked around the table. Her eyes lingered on each of them.
Her grandfather's steady hands, his familiar soft humming.
Her grandmother's silver hair, the little gold bangles on her wrist catching the light.
Toto's tail thumped sleepily against her arm as he settled in deeper on Grandma's lap.
And her mom, looking the happiest she had in years, holding a simple spoon in her hand like it was just another ordinary dinner, and not the miracle Lynette knew it was.
"I'll protect this," Lynette thought to herself, clutching her spoon tighter. "This time, I won't let it fall apart."
"I want to help with the dishes," Lynette said after dinner, getting up.
Everyone turned to her, eyebrows raised. Even Meira paused mid-bite.
"What? I can be useful," Lynette said with a laugh.
Her grandfather let out a hearty chuckle. "Now I know something strange is going on."
Her grandmother patted her cheek, her fingers warm and familiar. "Whatever it is, I like this version of you."
Lynette leaned her head gently against her grandmother's shoulder and whispered, "Me too."
Toto barked once, wagging his tail excitedly like he was in full agreement.
As the dishes clinked in the sink and Meira tried to sneak a second dessert, Lynette stood at the kitchen window for a second. The stars were just beginning to bloom in the sky.
She smiled. This was what she had lost. And now… it was back. Even if only for a while, she would treasure every second.