Under the Dome of Truth
At school, James wasn’t the best-behaved student, but he was brilliant academically. Teachers praised him for his top marks but scolded him for his cheeky attitude. Tall, with dark eyes and a charming smile, he easily caught the attention of girls. They flocked around him, and he, taking advantage of their admiration, cycled through girlfriends like changing socks.
Emily had been in his class since year one. By secondary school, she realised her weight wasn’t just a trait but a reason for mockery. Classmates called her “Pudding,” and though she pretended not to care, the taunts stung more as she grew older. Especially when girls whispered about boys—who smiled at whom, who bumped into who in the corridor. No one noticed Emily. The boys just tossed cruel nicknames as they passed. At home, she’d sob into her pillow.
“Mum, why am I like this? Why am I the only one?” she’d ask, swallowing tears.
“Love, don’t cry,” her mother comforted her. “You’ll grow, things will change. You’re still young.”
But her mother knew Emily stood out painfully from her peers. What hurt most was James. In sixth form, he dated Lily—a cold, arrogant beauty who delighted in tormenting Emily. James played along, whether to please Lily or out of teenage cruelty. Their jabs burned, but Emily stayed silent, tears the only evidence of her pain.
School ended. Classmates scattered—James went to university for architecture, Lily to college, Emily to a polytechnic. Their paths never crossed again.
Years later, James was returning from the river behind the town park, celebrating a successful project with friends. His gaze landed on a woman standing alone by the water, feeding ducks. Her blue eyes, warm and clear, drew him in. Without thinking, he broke from the group and approached.
“James,” he introduced himself, offering his hand. “And what’s your name, beautiful stranger? Fancy a walk? Or shall we skip straight to marriage?” He grinned, handing her a business card.
She frowned but took it, then turned and walked away. James hurried after her.
“Sorry if I offended you! Had a few drinks with mates, you know… Call me, I’ll wait, promise!”
The next day, he couldn’t stop checking his phone. By lunch, a message arrived: “Emily.” James felt like he’d won the lottery. He replied, thanking her and asking her out. That evening, he waited nervously with flowers, fearing she wouldn’t come. But she did, and her smile melted his anxiety. The date was perfect.
As days passed, James learned more about Emily—kind, clever, well-read, into embroidery and yoga. At twenty-eight, she looked younger, as if time had spared her. James fell hard, despite his history of flings. Even a two-year relationship had ended because he wasn’t ready for marriage. But with Emily, it was different.
The only thing that puzzled him was her faith. She went to church, prayed, kept fasts. James didn’t pry, afraid to overstep.
“Maybe she’s got scars,” he thought. “A past she won’t talk about. Her socials are private, she avoids couple photos. Maybe she’s shy?”
He respected her privacy, hoping she’d open up in time. Six months flew by. James asked her to move in.
“Jay, I’m not ready,” Emily said gently. “This is already fast for me. And, well—I’m a believer. Living together before marriage isn’t right for me.”
James wasn’t upset. He admired her conviction. Life continued—work, projects, evenings together. One day, after finishing a big job, he suggested a trip to a nearby town.
“Let’s go,” Emily agreed. “About four hours by car?”
“Closer to five, I don’t speed,” he laughed.
The drive passed in laughter and chatter. Over coffee, James suddenly said,
“Em, marry me. Let’s pick a ring right now.”
Her face darkened. After a pause, she replied,
“James, I’m a believer. You’ve never set foot in church. For me, it’s important you understand my faith. Confess, speak to a priest. And… you’d need to meet my parents.”
“But you never wanted me to meet them!” he protested, then noticed a church spire nearby. “Come on!”
He pulled her toward the church. At the entrance, James declared,
“I’ll confess right now. Ask about marrying you.”
Emily barely had time to object. Inside, the priest stood at the altar. James barrelled ahead, mentioning marriage.
“Preparation comes first,” the priest said calmly. “Confession isn’t just for weddings, but I won’t turn you away. Step forward.”
The confession was brief—general questions, five minutes of regrets. The priest spoke of faith, absolved him, and sent him off.
Elated, James proposed again outside. But Emily walked away in silence. He caught up.
“Em, what’s wrong? Why’d you leave?”
“I can’t lie under the dome,” her voice trembled. “James, do you really not recognise me? I’m Emily Carter. Your classmate.”
James froze, face paling. He searched her eyes, trying to remember. Noise drowned his thoughts. He sank onto a bench outside.
“Now I see,” he whispered. “Emily… you were—”
“Forty-five kilograms lighter,” she finished quietly.
Shame crushed him. Memories flooded back—mocking Emily, laughing with Lily. Her tears. One other memory surfaced: year eleven, Emily’s father cornered him after school, gripping his collar.
“Bully my girl again, and you’ll regret it. Understood?”
James had nodded, avoided Emily ever since. But he’d forgotten. Until now.
“I changed,” Emily continued. “Took up fitness, found faith. The priest helped me forgive. He said grudges destroy. I thought I’d moved on. But today, in there—I realised I never forgave you.”
“Emily, please,” James begged. “I was stupid, cruel. Forgive me.”
“You’ve no idea how much it hurt,” her voice broke. “I loved you back then. You and Lily tore me apart. I thought I could be with you now. But I can’t. I haven’t forgiven. Even though I know I should. God forgives… I don’t know if I can.”
She left. James stayed on the bench. An hour later, the priest found him, offered tea in the vestry. James spoke honestly, more than ever before. When he walked out, night had fallen. He looked up at the stars and prayed for the first time:
“Lord, help me. Let Emily forgive me.”
At home, he called, but her phone was off. James knew he had to make amends. Only time—and faith—could help now.
