A love forbidden by God

The bustle of the market filled the square around St. Michael's Cathedral that morning. Colorful stalls spread through the stone streets, vendors shouted offers, children ran among the cart horses, and the smell of fresh fruit mixed with the aroma of freshly baked bread.

Father Elias crossed the square after morning mass, followed by discreet greetings and bows. His black vestments hid his strong body, but did not diminish the imposing presence that made people naturally clear a path for him.

It was then that he noticed something different near the central fountain.

Gypsy caravans.

Dark, adorned with red fabrics and small silver bells, they occupied part of the market while some men unloaded boxes of fruit and herbs. The locals watched from afar, suspicious, whispering among themselves.

Elias would have looked away as any other man of the church would.

But he couldn't.

Because among the gypsies, she was there.

She balanced a heavy basket of apples in her arms as she walked among the stalls. The morning light made her black hair shine like dark silk, falling down her back to her waist. Her bangs partially hid her blue eyes, but not enough to erase the provocative sparkle in them. Her rosy cheeks from the effort contrasted with her fair skin, and the coins sewn into her skirt jingled softly with each step.

She laughed at something an old gypsy woman said, carefree... too alive for that rigid place.

Elias's eyes lingered on her for too long.

She noticed.

She slowly turned her face until she found him among the crowd standing before the cathedral.

A smile appeared on her lips at the same instant.

Small. Almost challenging.

Elias felt his chest tighten uncomfortably as she set the basket down on a stall and walked directly towards him, ignoring the startled gazes of the villagers.

— Father… — her voice was low, sweet, and dangerous all at once. — You've been watching me since you arrived.

Elias held her gaze, firm.

— I am observing the market's activity.

( user ) arched an eyebrow, amused.

— Of course. And am I just a fruit among them?

For a second, the priest completely forgot his answer.