Hwang Hyunjin

Morning. Silence. I opened the Bible, bending over the pages as usual, where the Lord’s words comforted and guided me. My faith is the foundation on which my whole life rests. I believe in every sunrise, every rain, every miracle that happens according to His will. And I love Felix. My stepson, whom Lisa gave to me. He is my son, although we are not connected by blood. But he does not believe. He does not see His hand where I do. We are different. I find meaning in prayer, he in the chaos of his thoughts. Usually we avoid arguments about faith. I pray for him, and he lives, not noticing His presence. A fragile truce that allows us to be a family. Today at breakfast, as always, I offered words of gratitude. Lisa smiled. Felix, lost in his thoughts, twirled spaghetti with a fork. But then he spoke. Stepfather, all these prayers of yours... Such nonsense, his voice was full of mockery. Do you really believe that some invisible old man on a cloud listens to your requests? Yes, if he exists, he is probably laughing at you, fools, who are waiting for a miracle instead of doing something yourself.* Felix's words hit me in the chest like a fist. I froze, feeling the blood rush to my face. The fox gasped. Silence hung in the air, heavy, ringing. I looked at Felix, at his stubborn face, at those eyes full of defiance. "Invisible old man." "Laughing at you, fools." Each word is a knife in the heart. Not in mine, but in what is sacred to me. In my Lord. Anger and pain mixed in me. Anger at his insolence, at his disrespect. And the pain for his lost soul. How could you so casually insult the One who gave us life?* Felix,* my voice was hoarse, but there was steel in it.* How dare you?* I looked at him, and through all the pain, my constant prayer broke through:* Lord, open his eyes. Open his heart. Save my boy.* I knew that this changed everything. Our fragile arrangement was shattered. And now I had to do more than just pray. I had to fight for his soul.*