The philosophy classroom was unusually quiet that afternoon.
Sunlight filtered through the high windows, falling across rows of wooden desks where the seminarians sat with open notebooks. At the front of the room, the lecturer paced slowly while asking questions about the reading they had been assigned the night before.
"Who can explain the difference between faith and certainty?" the lecturer asked.
The room stayed silent.
A few students glanced at each other but no one spoke.
Then Michael raised his hand.
The lecturer nodded.
"Yes, Michael."
Michael sat up slightly.
"Faith doesn't require absolute proof," he said carefully. "It asks a person to trust even when they don't have certainty."
The lecturer stopped walking and looked at him with interest.
"Continue."
Michael explained further, repeating the interpretation Lucas had helped him understand earlier in the week.
When he finished, the lecturer smiled.
"Excellent answer."
Several seminarians turned slightly to look at him.
Michael lowered his eyes back to his notebook.
Across the room, Lucas was watching him.
There was a quiet pride in his expression.
When the class ended, Lucas caught up with him in the hallway.
"Impressive," Lucas said.
Michael shrugged.
"You explained it to me."
"Still. You said it better than I did."
They walked together toward the refectory as the afternoon bell rang for lunch.
The large dining hall was already filled with seminarians when they arrived. The smell of fresh food drifted through the room as students lined up to collect their trays.
Michael grabbed a tray and stepped forward.
Lucas stood beside him as they began serving themselves rice and stew from the large metal containers.
"You should answer more questions in class," Lucas said casually.
Michael glanced at him.
"I prefer staying quiet."
Lucas shook his head.
"You're not as quiet as you think."
They were about to move toward the tables when someone suddenly bumped into Michael from the side.
The tray slipped from his hands.
Metal clattered loudly as the food spilled across the floor.
Rice scattered everywhere.
The refectory fell silent.
Michael stared down at his shirt.
The stew had splashed across the front of his neatly ironed clothes.
A few seminarians nearby watched the scene with uncomfortable curiosity.
Michael slowly looked up.
The seminarian who had hit him stood there with a faint smirk.
He didn't say anything.
He didn't apologize.
Michael's jaw tightened.
"You could at least say sorry," he said.
The other seminarian shrugged.
"It was an accident."
His tone didn't sound apologetic at all.
Lucas' eyes darkened.
For a moment he said nothing, just staring straight into the boy eyes
Then he remembered.
This was the same boy from minor seminary.
The same one who had once lied about him, causing a fight between them years ago.
Francis
Michael stepped forward.
"You pushed the tray."
"So?" the boy replied.
Lucas immediately stepped between them.
"Michael," he said quietly.
But Michael was already angry.
"You think that's funny?" he asked Francis
Francis leaned back slightly.
"Maybe you should hold your tray better next time."
Michael moved forward again.
Lucas grabbed his arm quickly.
"That's enough," Lucas said firmly
Within minutes, Michael was standing outside the discipline office.
Lucas stood beside him.
Neither of them spoke.
Inside the office, the priest responsible for student discipline looked up from his desk.
"Fighting in the refectory is not acceptable," he said calmly.
Michael tried to explain, but the priest raised a hand.
"I understand what happened. But you should have walked away."
Michael nodded silently.
After a brief warning, he was dismissed.
Michael stepped out of the office door into the quiet corridor.
The evening sun filtered through the tall windows.
Near the wall stood a large statue of Saint Louis, the patron saint often honored in many Catholic schools and seminaries. Beneath the statue hung a wooden notice board covered with announcements and prayer schedules.
Michael stopped walking
Francis was there.
He was kneeling on the floor beside a bucket and cloth, scrubbing the corridor tiles as punishment.
Francis looked up briefly
Their eyes met again.
But Francis quickly looked away and continued cleaning.
Michael then noticed someone else sitting beside the notice board.
Lucas.
He had been waiting.
Lucas stood when he saw Michael.
"You're done?" he asked.
Michael nodded.
Then Lucas said quietly:
"Come with me."
Michael frowned slightly but followed.
The narrow path led them to a small river that flowed quietly beyond the seminary grounds. During the rainy season, fishermen from the nearby village sometimes came there with their small wooden boats.
Two of them were there now, quietly checking their nets near the riverbank.
Michael sat down on a flat stone
The anger inside him still lingered.
Lucas reached into his pocket and pulled out his flute.
Michael looked up.
"You brought that with you?"
Lucas shrugged.
"I like practicing here."
He raised the flute to his lips and began to play.
The soft melody floated gently across the water.
The sound was calm and steady.
Michael watched the slow movement of the river as Lucas played.
After a moment, he spoke quietly.
"Your voice is beautiful."
Lucas lowered the flute slightly.
"You think so?"
Michael nodded.
"It sounds… peaceful."
Lucas smiled faintly.
Then he played a short note on the flute.
"Try singing this."
Michael blinked.
"I told you I can't sing."
"Try."
Michael hesitated, then attempted the note.
It came out completely wrong.
Lucas froze for a second.
Then he burst out laughing.
Michael stared at him.
"That bad?"
Lucas tried to control his laughter.
"I'm sorry," he said between breaths.
Michael shook his head, but a small smile appeared despite himself.
Lucas played the note again.
"Try one more time."
Michael tried.
It was worse.
This time they both started laughing.
The fishermen glanced at them briefly before returning to their work.
Lucas eventually stopped laughing and played a longer melody on the flute.
Michael didn't try to sing again.
He simply listened.
The evening sun reflected across the river, turning the water a deep shade of gold.
The quiet sound of the flute drifted gently through the air.
For the first time since the incident in the refectory, Michael felt the anger inside him slowly fade.
The world felt calm again.
And as Lucas continued playing beside the quiet river, Michael realized something strange.
Being there with him felt… peaceful.