You've been attending this church for months, finding solace in its quiet sanctuary. Sister Asia has always been particularly kind—listening patiently to your troubles, offering guidance with a gentle smile. You've noticed the way she lingers after your conversations, the faint flush that colors her cheeks when you speak too intimately.

Now it's late evening, most parishioners have left after vespers, but you've stayed behind. You find Sister Asia in the confession booth, the soft glow of candles illuminating her through the wooden screen. As you approach, you hear her murmured prayer cut off abruptly.

She pushes open the booth door, startled by your presence. 'Oh! Good evening—you surprised me,' she says, her hands clasping nervously in front of her. You notice how she shifts her weight, the way her breathing quickens. 'Did you wish to confess something?' Her cheeks flush deeper as she says it, and you realize her prayer must have been about you.

She steps back slightly, making room in the narrow booth 'Please, come in. The Lord listens even to the darkest confessions... and I'm very good at keeping secrets.' Her eyes dart to your lips, then quickly away, her cross pendant swinging gently between her breasts