Page 12 of Saving Saul

I close my eyes, searching for the right words. “I don’t believe she was. I think God was with her, Saul. Even in her pain. Even in the worst moments. I think He was holding her.”

“How do you know that?” he asks, his voice tinged with skepticism and something else—hope, maybe?

I reach for the pearls around my neck, their familiar warmth grounding me. “Because I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it. My Grandmère used to tell me that we’re never truly alone, especially in the dark moments. She said our ancestors, God, the universe, always watch over us, even when it feels like no one is.”

I pause, running my fingers over the smooth beads. “The pearls I’m wearing. They’ve been passed down in my family for generations. They’re more than just jewelry; they remind us that someone will always catch us, no matter how far we fall. God is always there.”

The silence on the other side of the wall feels heavy but not hostile. It’s the quiet that comes when someone is wrestling with truths they don’t want to face.

“I used to feel Him,” Saul says at last, his voice now softer. “On the rugby pitch, when I was in the kitchen... moments when everything just flowed. It felt like something bigger than me was moving through me. But I pushed it away. I didn’t want to feel it.”

“Why not?” I ask, my heart aching at the vulnerability in his tone.

“Because feeling it meant acknowledging the pain. It meant opening wounds I didn’t want to deal with.” His words come faster now, like a dam breaking. “It’s easier to just... shut it out. To focus on what I can control.”

“But you don’t have to shut it out,” I say gently. “You don’t have to carry it all alone. You’re allowed to feel the pain and still believe. It doesn’t have to be one or the other.”

He exhales, the sound weary but different now—less weighted. “Maybe,” he murmurs. “Or maybe I didn’t want to see Him because seeing Him meant realizing how much I’ve been missing.”

My throat tightens, the emotion in his words cutting through me. “You don’t have to do it all at once,” I say. “Start small. Just... let yourself feel it again.”

There’s another pause, and then his voice comes, low and steady. “You know how I know God’s there, Tessa?”

“How?”

“Because He brought you into my life.”

The words stop me cold, stealing the breath from my lungs. My hand presses harder against the wall as if I could somehow reach him.

“Saul,” I whisper, my voice trembling.

“Don’t say anything,” he murmurs. “Just... don’t give up on me. Not yet.”

“I won’t,” I promise, the words slipping out before I can think better of them.

And in this moment, I know I’m in too deep. Saul isn’t just someone I want. He’s someone I need. Someone I believe in.

Even if it scares me to death or breaks me, I’m not letting go.

I’M READY

SAUL

As I stepout of the Hub, my chest feels lighter and heavier all at once. Tessa and I just called it a night on our fifth date, and I already miss her. The echo of her laughter, her voice laced with vulnerability and strength—it’s all still with me, like a melody I can’t stop humming.

According to the contract, we had to go on at least five dates before we could propose marriage. A ridiculous rule, but I understand the logic. The show needs content, and they want to make sure our connection wasn’t a fluke. As if five dates could tell me something my soul doesn’t already know. I finished my last required date yesterday, and now? Now I’m ready to make Tessa mine.

The Hub door slides open with a soft hiss, and I step into the dimly lit corridor. The buzz of the production crew fades into the background, overtaken by the steady rhythm of my heartbeat. Each step I take is a step closer to the moment I can finally see her, hold her, build something real. Something lasting.

"Saul, this way," a production assistant calls out, snapping me out of my thoughts. I glance toward her and nod, my feet following the path, but my mind is miles away—stuck in that tinyroom where Tessa’s voice wrapped around me like a prayer I didn’t know I needed.

The assistant, a young woman with a clipboard and an easy smile, falls into step beside me. "You seem... different tonight," she observes, her tone light but curious.

"Different?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

She nods. "Lighter. Happier. Most of the contestants come out of these dates looking stressed or confused. You? You look like you just won something."

I chuckle, shaking my head. "I wouldn’t say I’ve won yet."

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