That evening, I lay in bed, retreating from the world.

My thoughts churned—a storm of uncertainty.

I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling. Its faint cracks formed patterns that mirrored my scattered mind. The weight of the day pressed down on me.

"Ugh, what am I going to do now?" I muttered, frustration bubbling low in my throat.

A soft knock on my door cut through the spiral.

Mom opened the door just a crack—and my cat launched into the room like he'd been summoned by chaos itself. He leapt onto the bed and claimed the second pillow like a smug little king. His green eyes locked onto mine—unblinking, judgmental.

I stared back with my best crazy eyes.

He groaned—actually groaned—like a grumpy old man, then turned over with a dramatic meow.

"Dang... is he even a cat?" I muttered to Mom.

I sat up, brushing my hair behind my ear. Mom's light blue eyes—always gentle, always tired in the way only mothers can be—met mine.

"Hey, Mom. What's up?" I tried to keep my voice steady, but it landed heavier than I wanted.

She eased onto the edge of the bed with a small, patient smile.

"I'm so sorry about the job," she said softly.

"It's okay," I said with a long sigh. I glanced over at her with a faint smile. "Things happen." I shrugged, my shoulders sinking as I looked down.

"I didn't like that job anyway. And with my car in the shape it's in..." I trailed off. "I was going to look for something closer to home, anyway."

She smiled and gently patted my head.

"Well, I better get some rest for church. My helper's going to be gone for a week—off on vacation with her husband." She paused. "I mainly came up here to check on you before I knock out for the night."

I had a feeling she wanted me to volunteer to help her.

I smiled and offered my hand. "I guess I can help with the kids."

Normally, I love kids. But the ones at church? Absolute buttholes.

Brandon, for one, loves to throw crayons at everyone until we have no choice but to go get his mom.

They walk all over anyone who's even slightly a pushover—and unfortunately, I am that pushover.

I don't know what their parents feed them, but those kids are always super hyper. Like, feral raccoons on espresso hyper.

And I swear, I shed ten pounds just chasing them around whenever I do help out.

Then a thought hit me: Maybe I should watch them three times a week.

My gut twisted.

Never mind. Bad thought. BAD THOUGHT BE GONE!! my mind screamed.

She leaned in and wrapped me in a hug—the kind that promised, you're not falling apart. Not today.

And just as quietly, she slipped from the room.

I dragged myself to the desk and opened my red laptop—battle-worn, faithful. I started scrolling job listings again. I needed something close. Simple. Anything that didn't feel like another void.

Then—one caught my eye.

A front desk position at a local gym.

Not glamorous. But maybe... doable.

The listing asked for someone who could greet members, answer phones, schedule appointments, process payments. Basic tasks.

Even the mention of managing accounts didn't scare me off—not tonight.

It wasn't a dream. But it was something.

I saved the listing and started prepping the application.

The next morning, Mom pulled into the church parking lot.

Her radio hummed a soft gospel tune. The kind she always played on Sundays. The kind that felt like tradition, not joy.

I stepped out behind her.

She wore a blue sweater and black dress pants—her go-to.

People swirled past in their Sunday best, laughter and hellos folding into the rhythm of the morning. I spotted Brandon poking his little sister while their mother hissed at him to quit. Other kids darted around the church doors, chasing each other with paper airplanes.

That's when I saw him.

Pastor Dawn, standing at the church entrance.

Silver hair. Clean gray suit. A practiced warmth in his expression.

Mom stepped forward and hugged him. He patted her back like they were old friends.

And his eyes—for the briefest flicker—held something else.

"Good morning, Miss Miller," Pastor Dawn greeted, voice steady as always.

"Good morning, Pastor," she said, clapping her hands together. "Just blessed to be here." Her voice was bright. Almost too bright.

He nodded, but his gaze lingered.

"How are your sons these days?" he asked Mom.

His tone was calm. Polite. But it felt like a test—like he was searching for weight behind the words.

Then—his eyes flickered and found mine.

"Anna. It's good to see you, like every Sunday. You bring such a kind energy here."

"Thank you," I said, forcing a smile. I leaned in to offer a quick hug. "Hope you've got a strong sermon today," I added, trying to sound upbeat.

His mouth curved up. But his gaze... it held. Didn't soften.

Something flickered again, just beneath the surface.

"Anna, are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I said with a smile, trying to meet his gaze. Trying to be normal. "Everything's good."

I cleared my throat, forcing a grin.

"Now, if you'll let me pass, I've gotta help Mom with the kids in Sunday school."

I tried to step around him, awkward smile still plastered on my face.

But he didn't move.

He just stood there.

Then, softly— "Anna, I know when you're lying." His eyes locked onto mine, unblinking. Searching.

His hand settled briefly on my shoulder. Warm. Familiar. Grounding.

"Anna," he said gently, "I may have been very busy lately—with church, meetings, everything—but I'm still here for you."

He looked like he was about to say more— but then Miss Barbara appeared.

Short, curly hair. Red lipstick a little too bright. A floral blouse tucked into a long black skirt. And way too much perfume—like she'd bathed in a garden.

"Pastor, we need you to get us started," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder with practiced familiarity.

He looked down at her, then back at me.

"Oh, um... okay," he said with a polite smile. Then, to me: "Go help your mom prep for the kids. We'll talk later."

I nodded. Kissed his cheek. Walked inside.

And behind me, that weight didn't lift.

He's my best friend. My anchor. Almost like a brother.

But this morning...

Something felt off.

His hesitation. His voice. His eyes didn't just look tired. They looked haunted.

And then—

A flicker.

Past the church doors. A movement I couldn't place. A shadow, maybe. Or not.

Gone before I could turn.

But the chill stayed.

It stayed all the way inside.

Was it bad luck... or something else?

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Hey, lovely readers 💛

Thanks for diving into Chapter 2 of True Love's Bite! This is where the cracks really begin—jobs lost, shadows spotted, and Sunday smiles that don’t quite reach the eyes. Oh, and Brandon? Yeah… the chaos goblin is planning a full crayon coup. 🎨✨ Pray for Anna’s soul.

But beneath all the small-town charm and church greetings—something stirred. Pastor Dawn’s warmth isn't just weathered—it’s haunted. And Anna’s instincts? They’re catching flickers of something much deeper.

Did you feel it too? That hush before something awful and sacred breaks open?

Drop your theories. The shadows are listening.

Every read, vote, and comment fuels the next twist—and keeps Luna-chan writing with slightly too much coffee and just enough gremlin sabotage. 💻🖤

Next time... 

She wasn’t ready. But he arrived—steady, emerald-eyed, and too knowing. Her stormborn gaze met his. And something ancient stirred beneath her skin. He didn’t ask. He didn’t warn. He just smiled—like fate already belonged to him.

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