She Died With My Name on Her Lips novel Chapter 19

Stephen sat in silence for a long time before finally nodding his agreement.

Even if he couldn’t bring the dead back, maybe he could pray for another chance in the next life. All he wanted was for their families to be together, without all the pain and heartbreak this time. That was what mattered most.

Once everything was set, Stephen gathered his people and headed for South Hill.

South Hill wasn’t exactly small, but it wasn’t endless either. If you were searching on your own, you might spend a month wandering and still not see it all. But with a group, it was different. At least, that’s what Stephen thought.

According to every rumor, the chapel couldn’t be found unless fate was on your side. Only the chosen could see it—let alone walk through its doors.

Stephen was standing right at the chapel’s entrance, but his bodyguards, who had followed him all this way, just stared blankly. They didn’t see the building, or the flurry of activity inside with its busy little priest.

Frowning, Stephen took a closer look at the chapel before glancing back at the others. “You really can’t see the chapel right in front of me?”

They all shook their heads. “Mr. Barker, there’s nothing there—just trees.”

A chill crept over Stephen. His hand was already resting on one of the faded red pillars. The yellow walls were chipped and peeling, giving the place an aged, timeless feel.

Inside, the chapel was quiet and dignified. There weren’t many worshippers, but plenty of monks and priests moved about, busy with their daily routines. Occasionally, they’d chat and laugh together, but none of them ever glanced outside.

As Stephen stood there, lost in thought, an elderly monk in a russet robe approached him, kind eyes crinkling as he nodded.

“You are the one fate has led here. Those with no connection to this chapel can’t see it, no matter how hard they try.”

The old man’s voice was soft and almost otherworldly. Stephen glanced over his shoulder—his bodyguards were still frozen, oblivious to everything.

So the rumors were true.

He trusted his men; they’d never lie to him.

Taking a deep breath, Stephen stepped over the threshold. He pressed his palms together and gave a respectful nod.

He knelt, pressed his body to the ground, touched his forehead to the floor, and then rose—over and over, until his forehead and knees were bleeding.

But Stephen didn’t flinch. He barely noticed the pain. Compared to the ache in his heart, this was nothing.

If Louisa could do it, so could he.

He had no idea how long he’d been at it—day turned into night, night into day. Finally, as the sun rose, Stephen reached the top of the hill.

The sunrise glowed red through the morning mist, both dreamy and dazzling.

Somehow, the heavy weight he’d carried in his chest began to lift.

“Pilgrim, you’ve come so far. I’m sure you know what you want most. Go inside, light a candle for the Holy Mother, speak your wish one last time, and take this peace charm. Pray with a pure heart, and in your next life, your wish will come true.”

The monk’s voice sounded softly behind him.