Glass Hearts [BL]
Chapter 48: Miracles Happen

Chapter 48: Miracles Happen

I wiped my cheeks on my sleeves, though my skin was still damp, my eyes were gritty from crying. My legs felt like jelly as I crossed the street, drawn forward by the music.

As I stepped up the church’s stone steps, the singing grew louder.

The doors of the church were wide opened.

I hesitated at the threshold. What if I didn’t belong here? What if God didn’t want anything to do with someone like me?

Maybe, I could just try.

It was cooler inside. Inside, the sanctuary glowed. Rows of wooden pews stretched toward the altar, which was draped in soft white cloth. Stained-glass windows with pools of color onto the floor: ruby, sapphire, emerald, gold.

A small choir stood to the left, swaying gently as they sang.

"You are not alone..."

My breath caught in my throat.

I slipped in as quietly as I could, edging along the wall. Nobody looked my way. Everyone seemed lost in the music, heads bowed, eyes closed.

I hovered near the back, unsure what I was supposed to do.

My chest was still tight. My hands were trembling in my lap.

I bowed my head, trying to blink back new tears.

Should I kneel? Should I sit? Should I just stand here until I stopped shaking?

A woman near the aisle gave me a warm, smile. She didn’t say anything... she just nodded her head, like she was telling me it’s okay to be here.

And that was all it took.

For a moment, I just sat there, listening to the harmony.

I didn’t know how to pray.

Not really.

I’d never been the person who showed up to church every Sunday. Never learned the words by heart.

But sitting there, all I could think was...

Please.

Just that.

Please... don’t take my mom.

Please don’t make me lose her. I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t have the money. I don’t have a plan. I’m so scared. I’m so tired. Please... help me.

A tear slipped down my cheek. I wiped it away, but more kept coming.

And... I don’t know what’s happening with me and Dominic. Or with me at all. I think... I might be gay. Or at least I want... him. Is that wrong? Am I bad for wanting that?

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Please. Just... let me keep my family. Let me figure out who I am.

It wasn’t eloquent. It wasn’t even a proper prayer.

But it was honest.

My shoulders shook as I silently cried. No loud sobs this time. Just quiet, shuddering breaths, tears soaking the back of my hand.

Nobody disturbed me. Nobody stared.

The choir kept singing.

"You are not forgotten..."

A warm breeze drifted through the church doors, carrying the scent of candle wax and something sweet...maybe incense.

I let the music pour into the cracks inside me.

I could almost believe...

That maybe there was still hope.

And then, out of nowhere, I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder.

I flinched, lifting my face just enough to see the soft shape of a man’s robe beside me.

Standing beside me was a priest, maybe late fifties, with a kind face framed by silver hair. His brown eyes were warm and soft, like he’d seen a thousand broken hearts and still believed each one could heal.

"Hey there, son," he said quietly. "Everything will be okay."

I swallowed hard, unable to speak.

He gave a soft smile. "Stop worrying so much. Miracles happen," he said softly. "Sometimes in ways you least expect. Just... don’t shut people out. Let the people who love you help. And trust that God sees your tears."

I nodded.

He patted my shoulder. "You’re gonna be alright. Just take it one day at a time, okay?"

I nodded, blinking fast, my throat aching.

He leaned in a little closer. "And remember....sometimes help comes from places you least expect."

He gave me a soft, reassuring smile..a smile that made new tears spring into my eyes.

Then he squeezed my shoulder one last time and slipped quietly away down the aisle.

I sat there a moment longer, trying to steady my breathing.

And for some reason... I felt lighter. Like maybe the universe hadn’t completely forgotten me after all.

I pushed out through the heavy church doors, cool night air rushing against my skin.

My eyes were still puffy, but I wiped my face, took a deep breath, and started heading home.

The streetlights were buzzing overhead, painting long shadows across the brick walls.

I was still replaying the priest’s words in my head, when I froze at the sight in front of my door.

Mr. Warren...my landlord, stood right there at the entrance.

Shit. The rent.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, bald, with thick black eyebrows that seemed permanently angry. He was flipping through a notebook, muttering numbers under his breath.

My heart slammed into my ribs.

I’d totally, completely forgotten about rent.

I swallowed hard and forced a grin. "Uh... Mm.. Mr. Warren..."

He looked up sharply. "Rivera."

I winced. My palms were sweaty. "Listen, I... I meant to come talk to you. I’m just... things have been really crazy lately, and—"

He held up a hand, cutting me off. "Relax, kid. I’m not here for you tonight."

I blinked. "You’re... not?"

Mr. Warren gave an exaggerated sigh. "Mrs. Diggs already paid two hundred bucks for you."

My mouth fell open. "Wait... what?"

He waved his notebook in the air. "Yeah. So now you’re down to four hundred you owe me. I’ll be back for it in a week."

I stood there, mouth hanging open. "Mrs Diggs... she did that for me?"

Mr. Warren rolled his eyes. "Don’t make a big deal outta it. She’s always meddlin’ in everyone’s business. I’ll be back next week for the rest. Don’t make me chase you."

"Thank you sir. I’ll get you the rest. I promise. I just... need a little time."

He gave me a look that said you better... then turned away, stomping down the hallway.

And immediately started banging on the next apartment door so hard, the wood rattled.

"Hey! Garcia ! I know you’re in there pretending you can’t hear me! Your rent is late again, lady!"

His voice echoed down the hall, as he banged on the door.

A muffled voice inside squeaked, "One more week, please!"

"Two days." Mr. Warren shouted. "Or else, I’m taking your TV!"

I stood there frozen, half horrified... half relieved.

Not because Mr. Warren was yelling at someone else.

But because...for once, it wasn’t me.

And because Mrs. Diggs...

God.

She’d actually helped me. The priest was right.

Help comes from places you least expect. Miracles truly happen.

I walked over to my apartment door.

I didn’t know how the hell I’d ever pay her back.

But I knew one thing:

I was gonna be grateful for that woman forever.