With a heart filled with tensely anxious emotions, Roland walked into the Prayer Room.
The Prayer Room was Christine's private chamber, and only Roland held the key besides her.
As soon as the key turned in the lock, you knew that Roland had arrived.
Usually, the Holy Father would stand up to greet him; even if he didn't feel like standing, he would at least turn and smile.
But today, Christine was different. She knelt dazedly on the floor, her eyes vacant, devoid of any vitality.
Walking into the Prayer Room, Roland was startled by the sight.
He didn't know what had devastated Christine, but it was surely no minor issue.
He did not hysterically grab Christine's shoulders and shake her vigorously, nor frantically ask her what was wrong.
Christine needed comfort now.
Unable to think of a better approach, he simply held her hand.
It was as cold as snow, with no warmth at all—it seemed her heart was truly hurt.
