Chapter 3 Curiosity Grows

The weeks after Cersei's first confession passed by in a blur, yet for Father Hart, each moment with her lingered in his thoughts longer than he cared to admit. He continued his duties, celebrating Mass, offering counsel, and assisting the parishioners with their daily struggles, but something had shifted in him. The memory of Cersei's face-the vulnerability in her eyes, the heaviness in her voice-followed him like a shadow.

The recurring confessions were unsettling. Cersei returned every Saturday evening, without fail, and each time, she confessed the same sin, almost as if she were caught in a loop. The guilt in her words remained, but the change he had hoped for never materialized. Her soul seemed restless, trapped in a cycle of self-doubt and shame. No matter how many times he offered his guidance, no matter how many Scriptures he recited, there was no sign of the liberation he so desperately wanted for her.

He'd suggested everything he could think of-prayer, meditation, voluntary acts of kindness, even fasting. Yet, the following week, she would appear at the confessional, her confession almost identical to the one from before.

Father Hart had never encountered someone quite like Cersei. Other penitents-whether they were troubled by anger, dishonesty, or addiction-came, confessed, and often left with the sense that they were on the road to healing. But Cersei's pattern puzzled him. She wanted change, but she seemed incapable of achieving it.

And that's when he realized-maybe it wasn't just about forgiveness. Maybe, deep down, Cersei wasn't simply seeking the absolution of her sins. Perhaps what she needed was something more-something deeper than just penance.

Father Hart sat in his small office that Saturday afternoon, glancing at his watch. Evening Mass would start soon, but his mind wandered back to Cersei. There was an undeniable pull, a sense of responsibility that gnawed at him whenever he thought of her. His duty was to guide, to help others find redemption through the sacraments, but Cersei felt different. The thought of her haunted him-her struggle, her silent plea for a way out of the life she had built for herself.

The sound of footsteps approaching his office door interrupted his thoughts. He looked up to see Father Lorenzo standing in the doorway, his friendly face bearing an expression of quiet concern.

"Hart, you've been distracted lately," Lorenzo said, stepping inside. "What's on your mind?"

Father Hart offered a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's nothing, Lorenzo. Just... a bit of fatigue. You know how it is."

Father Lorenzo raised an eyebrow, his sharp, perceptive gaze not fooled by the deflection. "Come on. You've been doing this too long to pretend everything's fine when it's not. What's really bothering you?"

Father Hart sighed, setting his pen down and leaning back in his chair. He looked out the window briefly before meeting his friend's gaze. "There's a woman who's been coming to confession," he said slowly. "Her name is Cersei."

Lorenzo nodded, as if he'd already heard the name. "I've seen her around. She's one of those quiet ones, isn't she?"

"Yes," Father Hart replied, his voice tinged with frustration. "She's been confessing the same sin every week-over and over. I can't figure out why she can't break free from it. Every time, she confesses the same thing: that she's a prostitute. That she sells herself for money. And then, every week, it's the same penance, the same absolution, and yet... no change."

Father Lorenzo frowned, crossing his arms. "Sounds like she's stuck. Maybe it's something deeper than just the sin itself. If she's coming back every week, it means she's looking for something more. But what exactly, I don't know. You can't help someone unless they want help, Hart."

Father Hart leaned forward, elbows on his desk, his hands clasped tightly. "She does want help. I can see it in her eyes. But it's like she's... trapped. I don't know how to reach her."

Lorenzo's eyes softened, his expression becoming more understanding. "You know you can't save everyone, right? Especially not in a confessional booth. The Church can give the tools, but only the person can use them."

"I know," Father Hart replied, rubbing his temples in frustration. "But there's something about her, Lorenzo. I can't shake it. I've never felt like this about anyone else."

Lorenzo studied his friend carefully, then nodded thoughtfully. "There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?"

Father Hart hesitated. It wasn't easy to admit, but the truth hung heavy on his chest. "I'm not sure what it is yet, but it feels like more than just spiritual concern. I want to help her, I think-I feel like I need to help her, but I'm afraid I'm crossing a line. My position as a priest... it complicates things."

Lorenzo's eyes narrowed. "You've been close to people before. Hell, you've helped many people in this parish, and they've all appreciated your kindness. But this one feels different, doesn't it?"

Father Hart nodded slowly. "Yes, it does. I've never felt so... drawn to someone before. But that's exactly what I'm worried about. It's not just about her sin anymore. It's something else. A bond, perhaps. I'm not sure."

Lorenzo studied his friend for a long moment, then sighed. "You've always been the empathetic type, Hart. But be careful. You're walking a fine line between helping someone and getting too close. The Church doesn't look kindly on any 'special' relationships between a priest and a woman. They'd say it's 'dangerous.' You know what I'm talking about."

"I know," Father Hart muttered, looking down at his hands. "But I can't just turn my back on her. If I do, I'm not sure who else she has. I know it sounds naive, but I believe she needs more than just penance. She needs someone who can help her break free from her past-someone who will guide her out of it."

Lorenzo's expression softened, though there was a hint of caution in his eyes. "I get it. But just... tread lightly. People talk. Even if you mean well, gossip has a way of turning good intentions into scandal."

"I'll be careful," Father Hart promised. "I'll try something different with her next week. Maybe I can engage her outside of confession, offer more personalized support."

Father Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. "Just make sure you don't get too involved, Hart. You've got a reputation to uphold-and if you're not careful, that reputation will come crashing down."

As the conversation came to an end, Father Hart couldn't help but feel a mixture of unease and determination. His desire to help Cersei had only deepened, but so had his doubts. How much was too much? Was he crossing boundaries that shouldn't be crossed?

He stood up from his desk, brushing the thoughts aside for the moment. He had Mass to prepare for, after all. But as he walked towards the church, his mind remained fixated on the one question he couldn't answer: Could he help Cersei without losing himself in the process?