The Doormat Wife’s Ultimate Glow-Up novel Chapter 190

He hung up and shot one last look at the person lying in the hospital bed before turning and leaving the room in a rush.

Somehow, rain had started falling outside. Fine and steady, it blurred the city lights as his black Bentley disappeared into the night.

By the time the car pulled up outside St. Dominic’s, the air had turned bitter and wet. The church sat there, tall and silent, its spire lost in the mist. Broad stone steps climbed up to the front doors, each one washed dark with rain, fading into the shadows like they led straight into the night.

A young priest stood under the porch, lantern in hand, getting ready to lock up. He glanced over warily as Sebastian approached. “Sorry, sir, the church is closed for the night. If you want to confess or pray, you’ll have to come back in the morning.”

“I’m not here for myself.” Sebastian’s voice was quiet but firm. “I just want to light a candle for two people I owe more than I can ever repay.”

The priest hesitated, polite but still blocking the way. “We can’t have visitors this late. The priests are all resting. If you want to light a candle, please come back for morning prayers.”

“She once kept vigil all night for me. If she could do that back then, why can’t I do this now?” Sebastian took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the heavy doors. “I want to go in. I need to light two candles.”

The lantern’s glow washed his face pale, but his eyes stayed steady and clear.

The priest paused, studying him, taking in his suit d sharp features. Sebastian looked every bit the man used to fighting battles in boardrooms. But the pain and regret in his expression couldn’t be hidden. It was so real, so raw, that the priest finally gave in and nodded.

“I can’t let you into the confessional,” he said softly, “but you can pray and light your candles out front. Come in.”

The doors swung open, and the hush of the empty church closed around them like a blanket.

Under the soaring arches, the statue of the Virgin Mary stood watch, the stained glass windows dull with rain. Sebastian stopped in front of the altar and lit the first candle.

The small flame stood still, stubborn against the darkness.

He whispered, “This one’s for Reese. May she be safe, may pain and sickness never touch her.”

The sound of rain echoed in the high ceiling, swallowing his words. It was like a prayer he’d been holding inside for years, finally let out.

He lit the second candle. The flame flickered, and his eyes shone red in the candlelight, tears threatening.

“Let her be free from pain. Let her always smile.”

His voice was barely a breath. Fingers trembling, he touched the wet, cold stone under the candles. His shirt clung to his back, heavy and soaked, tracing the hard lines of his muscles.

He didn’t linger. Instead, he stepped back out into the rain and knelt on the stone steps. These were the same steps that filled with crowds for weddings and funerals, but now they were empty. The only sound was the rain.

His knees hit the cold, wet stone. The first shock was icy, then it turned to a slow, biting ache. Every time he knelt, bowed, and pressed his forehead down, his body screamed in protest.

But he refused to stop.

Guilt pressed down on him, crushing, leaving no room for weakness. He was terrified that even the smallest pause would make God turn away, would leave Reese and the old man in the hospital without mercy.

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