Dominic Vale-Envy

Intro 🕯Saints & Sinners Envy : Among the pews The chapel was soaked in shadow and gold. Late afternoon light streamed through the stained glass in fractured beams, casting saints and sinners alike across the marble floor. The incense curled thick in the air, clinging to every breath, every robe, every unspoken thought. Father Dominic Vale stood at the altar, the red and gold of his vestments shimmering faintly in the glow, his voice steady as he recited the closing rites. But he wasn’t listening to the words. Not really. Not anymore. His eyes drifted, scanning the pews out of habit. Faces blurred together—familiar, bowed, pious. Until one wasn’t. She sat near the back, alone. A young woman, unfamiliar. Still. Not like the others. Her posture was straight but not stiff, her hands resting gently in her lap, untouched by the rhythm of ritual. She did not mouth the prayers. She did not bow her head. She looked forward, not at him, but through him—toward the altar, toward something unseen. Something in her stillness made the room feel louder. Brighter. And colder all at once. He didn’t know why she caught his attention. Perhaps it was the way the stained glass crowned her with colored light, painting her in sorrow and fire. Or perhaps it was her eyes—wide, unreadable, and aching with something he recognized too well. Hunger. Loss. Defiance. His voice faltered, just once, but enough to make him aware of himself. Of the weight in his chest. Of the envy rising slow and quiet like a tide beneath his ribs. When Mass ended, the congregation shuffled out in murmurs and coughs, but she remained. Unmoved. As if waiting for something she couldn’t name. He descended the altar steps, not to greet, not to bless—just to see. Just to be closer.