The afternoon had been peaceful.
After philosophy class, the seminarians gathered on the open field behind the old stone dormitory. The sun hung low above the tall mango trees that bordered the seminary grounds, casting long golden shadows across the dusty football pitch.
Laughter filled the air.
Some seminarians played football. Others sat beneath the trees discussing theology or polishing their cassocks for evening prayers.
Michael stood near the edge of the field, watching the game with mild interest. He wore a neatly ironed white long-sleeved clerical shirt tucked into black trousers, the sleeves rolled slightly at the wrists because of the heat. His black leather sandals kicked lightly at the dust as he watched the ball move across the field.
Lucas was nearby, talking with two choir members, but his eyes occasionally drifted toward Michael.
Sam noticed it and smirked quietly.
Everything felt normal.
Peaceful.
Until the shouting began.
Two seminarians near the goalpost suddenly started arguing. At first it sounded like the usual complaints about fouls and cheating, but the voices quickly grew louder.
"Are you blind?" one of them snapped.
"You pushed me first!"
Within seconds the argument turned physical. One grabbed the other's shirt, and the next moment they were shoving each other violently.
The laughter around the field faded.
"Hey, stop!" someone shouted.
But neither of them listened.
Michael frowned immediately.
"Leave it," Lucas said quietly when he noticed Michael stepping forward.
But Michael was already moving.
He hated seeing fights, especially in a place that was supposed to be peaceful.
He hurried toward them, pushing through the small crowd that had gathered.
"Enough," Michael said firmly, stepping between the two angry seminarians.
One of them tried to shove past him.
Michael raised his hands to keep them apart.
"Stop it," he insisted. "This is stupid."
For a moment it seemed like they might calm down.
Then one of the angry seminarians suddenly pushed hard.
Michael lost his balance.
His foot slipped on the dusty ground.
Before he could recover, he fell sideways, his body hitting the ground hard.
His right hand struck the stone edge of the small walkway beside the field.
A sharp crack echoed.
Pain shot through his arm like lightning.
Michael gasped.
For a second the world spun.
"Michael!"
Lucas's voice cut through the noise.
He rushed forward immediately, dropping to his knees beside him.
Michael was clutching his hand tightly, his face pale.
"What happened?" Lucas asked quickly.
Michael tried to speak but winced as another wave of pain ran through his arm.
Lucas carefully touched his wrist.
Michael sucked in a breath.
Lucas's expression changed instantly.
"Don't move it," he said urgently.
The other seminarians were already gathering around them.
"Call Father Emmanuel," someone said.
Another ran toward the administration block.
Lucas slid an arm behind Michael's shoulders to help him sit up carefully.
"You tried to be a hero again," Lucas muttered, though his voice carried worry more than annoyance.
Michael managed a weak smile.
"Someone had to stop them."
Lucas shook his head.
"You're impossible."
Within minutes, two senior seminarians arrived and helped carry Michael toward the seminary infirmary, a small white building near the chapel where injured students were treated.
The smell of antiseptic greeted them as they entered.
A priest who worked as the seminary nurse examined Michael's swollen hand carefully.
Michael tried not to react, but the pain was obvious.
After a few minutes the priest sighed softly.
"It's fractured."
Lucas folded his arms tightly across his chest.
Michael exhaled slowly.
"Well… that's not ideal."
The priest wrapped Michael's hand in thick bandages and secured it with a sling.
"You'll need to rest it for some time," he said firmly.
Michael nodded.
Soon the other seminarians began leaving.
Even Sam eventually stepped out after promising to bring Michael's things from the dormitory.
The infirmary grew quiet.
Lucas remained sitting beside the bed.
Michael leaned back against the pillow, clearly exhausted.
"Congratulations," Lucas said after a moment.
Michael raised an eyebrow.
"For what?"
"You managed to turn a peaceful afternoon into a hospital visit."
Michael chuckled weakly.
"Not exactly my plan."
Lucas shook his head.
"You always try to fix everything."
Michael closed his eyes briefly, the pain medicine beginning to take effect.
The room grew quiet.
Outside, the distant bell of the chapel rang softly for evening prayer.
Lucas looked at the bandaged hand resting against Michael's chest.
His expression softened.
He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice.
"You scared me today," he whispered.
Michael didn't open his eyes.
But he heard it.
Lucas gently adjusted the blanket over him.
Then he added quietly,
"Please don't make me that scared again."
Michael stayed silent.
But somewhere behind his closed eyes, a small smile appeared.