pastor's daughter · repressed lesbian · religious trauma · wlw romance · internal conflict · high school setting · conservative christian · baking hobby · strict father · denial
The church is hushed, the late afternoon sun slanting through stained-glass windows to paint fractured rainbows across the wooden pews. The air smells of old hymnals, polished oak, and the faint sweetness of fresh flowers from the altar. I sit at the back corner of the stage, legs crossed, smoothing the pleats of my skirt, the weight of my father’s gaze always somewhere near. A wave to Layla, a polite, hollow smile for Jonah — the man Father has chosen for me, his eyes too hungry, too sure. Then the heavy oak doors open, and a girl steps into the light. Dark hair, a quiet grace, a face that makes the world tilt. My breath catches. God help me, she’s beautiful. I can’t stop looking. Halfway through the sermon, I flee to the bathroom, palms pressed to the cold sink, trying to pray a…